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caffeineivore · 1 year

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Send Whiskey, A Prequel

For my R/J peeps.

May need to read the other Send Whiskey snippets (tagged “writing”) for this to make sense. Rated a high PG13 for mentions of violence and drug use.

Winter is a silent killer in the projects. Jaime—named after a probable father who overdosed in an alley eight months after his birth—huddles in front of a rickety space heater and eats a cold and bland dinner—white bread and a slice of American cheese. The space heater was a definite fire hazard in the cramped, dirty room, but as the gas bill hadn’t been paid since October, one did what one had to. Jaime’s mother was working and had not been home since sometime last night, but the money would go towards drugs first and foremost before the gas company would see a dime.

The sound of someone knocking on the door draws his attention, but Jaime stays still and keeps quiet. There were no such thing as friendly neighbours in a building such as theirs, and his mother’s associates would know that she wasn’t home. He’s about to finish his sandwich when the door bangs open on its hinges, and before he can react, a sweaty man in gang colours bursts into the room and he’s lifted off his feet, the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against his jaw. “Come any closer and the brat buys it!” The voice is vaguely familiar, likely one of his mother’s paramours. Jaime drops the remnants of his sandwich and watches, wide-eyed, as a woman in a black trench coat comes to a halt in the doorway, her eyes hard as the pistol she kept trained on her quarry.

“This will not end well for you.” Her voice is mellifluous, bearing none of the harsh consonants of the locals or the rasp from his mother’s that came from long-term smoking. “You won’t find a hole deep enough to hide in if you hurt a child, Craig. You know this.”

“I don’t give a shit! That bastard set me up!” Spittle flies from Craig’s mouth and lands on Jaime’s face, but he’s too scared to do anything but wince. “You’re going to drop that gun and back the fuck up, bitch!”

“As you wish.” Her voice is calm, almost bored, as she lowers her gun and takes a step back. Craig keeps his own gun pressed to Jaime’s face, and doesn’t move it away until the woman lays her pistol on the floor, about a foot away from the ancient space heater. She makes a show of standing up slowly and taking another step back, and then the next few moments are a blur.

A knife, thin as one of Jaime's fingers, whizzes through the air to embed itself in Craig’s throat. His arms slacken and he falls to the ground with a sickening gurgle of blood, and Jaime runs towards the doorway. The woman catches him by the upper arms, her hands firm but gentle, and frightened blue eyes meet amethyst ones. “It’s all right, honey. You’re safe now.” A faint, slightly careworn smile crosses her lips. “What’s your name?”

“Jaime.”

“Well, Jaime, I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I’m sure you’re scared. Probably hungry, too. You can call me Abby.”

The woman named Abby takes him out of the cold, dirty apartment and buys him a burger and fries. Her car is black and spotlessly neat, with a booster seat in the back and tinted windows. It smells pleasantly of some floral air freshener and the radio plays soft music heavy on violins. Jaime is almost afraid of dirtying the car with his food or the blood staining his ragged sweatshirt, but hunger eventually wins out and he inhales the meal.

“I have a daughter about your age,” Abby tells him, her eyes kind as they glance into the rearview mirror. “Probably a bit younger. I’d set up a play date, but I don’t think your mother would like that. Maybe someday.”

She takes him to a cozy little house at the outskirts of town, where he gets a change of clothes and a shower with hot water and bubbles, and he falls asleep on a soft couch, watching cartoons on a big TV in a nice living room. When he wakes up, he’s at a police precinct, an exhausted-looking social worker with dark circles under her eyes and caffeine jitters in her hands asking questions about his home life and the horrific scene with Craig. The social worker makes mention of Abby, but calls her Absinthe for some reason. He answers the questions as best as he can, but at ten years of age, he isn’t deemed a reliable witness, and he’s returned to the tenement building where his mother lives and a drug dealer held a gun to his head. Strangely, though, the gas bill is paid, and every week, a load of groceries gets dropped off on the stoop. It’s cans of soup and pre-sliced fruit and sandwich fixings at first—easy enough for even a little boy to make by himself without adult help. By the time Jaime turns thirteen, though, it has shifted to food that requires a skillet or an oven. He burns a few things, over-seasons a few other things at first, but gradually learns.

Life takes another turn for the bizarre when he’s on the cusp of seventeen. As the years went by, the sightings of the woman who’d birthed him become increasingly rare. The work comes less these days, as her looks and health deteriorates with the years of hard living, but she benefits from the mysteriously paid bills and groceries just as he does, and finds herself at liberty to spend all of her earnings on the pills and heroin. Jaime comes home one day from school to find her on the floor, a band still wrapped around her forearm, already room-temperature and stiff.

It's a different social worker who talks to him at the same police precinct, but the dark circles and caffeine jitters are familiar. Jaime has no relatives on record, but there is paperwork stating that a benefactor has set aside money to provide for him, including a trust fund to be paid out upon his twenty-fifth birthday. The social worker gives him a business card bearing an address downtown, and Jaime takes the bus down to the commercial district, finds himself standing in front of what looks like a bar called “The Distillery”, all but deserted in the light of day.

He half expects some burly staff member to kick him out for being underage as he pulls open the heavy wooden doors, and wonders if the address was a misprint. The Distillery is dimly lit but clean, all dark wood panels and moody lighting. The Barkeep is a grizzled man of perhaps sixty, whose diminutive stature nonetheless gave an impression of hidden reserves of strength, and Jaime feels pinned by the rheumy eyes under the cap of iron-grey hair. “Is there something I can help you with, son?” The voice, too, is deceptively genial, and something about the question feels off.

“My name is Jaime Bradley. I got a card with this address,” Jaime comes to a stop at the bar, but doesn’t take a seat on one of the stools. “Supposedly someone here has been paying my bills, setting aside money for me. I don’t have any idea what that’s about.”

The Barkeep holds out a hand to take the card, and just as Jamie slides it across the bar top, the swinging doors to the kitchen open, and a young girl walks out, fine-boned and lovely, unbound hair a raven waterfall flowing to her waist. Jaime’s breath catches in his throat as his eyes lock with her amethyst ones. She’s perhaps his age, perhaps a year younger, but the features are unmistakable, and he remembers a burger and a booster seat in a black car, a gunman felled with a knife thrown so fast he didn’t even see her move. “Abby. She told me her name was Abby.”

The old man’s lips curve up in a sad sort of smile even as he scans the business card, which under the dim lighting shows a peculiar watermark in the paper. “She would have, sonny. I daresay you were too young to remember a name like Absinthe. She did tell me about you, all those years ago.” He lays a broad hand on the slim shoulder of the girl. “I tried to encourage her to take over for me in here after Ruth was born, instead of handling orders and shipments, but she was a bit of a chip off the old block. Stubborn. She didn’t like leaving a loose end, especially with a child.”

The past tense in reference to Abby doesn’t escape Jaime’s attention, and the Barkeep reads the question in the younger man’s eyes. “Cape Town, five years ago. She had already made arrangements for you, though.” The old man wipes down the already-clean bar top with a white towel, and meets Jaime’s eyes. “It’s up to you, son. If you have an idea of where you want to stay, what you want to do, I’ll have my accountant write you a check.” The towel gets put away, and the old man sets a bowl of beer nuts on the bar top, surveying Jaime shrewdly. “If you’re not sure yet, maybe we could talk.”

The girl named Ruth scowls up at the old man, and she’s even prettier when she’s angry. Jaime is also almost positive that if he were to say so, she’d eviscerate him. “We don’t know him, Grandpa.”

“Absinthe never missed, little one,” the Barkeep admonishes. “And I could use a strong back, an extra pair of hands.”

“I’ll do it.” Jaime’s decision is made on an impulse, but then again, having some semblance of a home and a job seems wiser than being given a lump sum of money that he had no idea how to manage. “She saved my life, after all.”

He has no idea exactly what “it” entails, but the Barkeep’s lips quirk up in a smile. “All right. I’ll show you the ropes. You’ll be a decent Barback, I daresay, after a bit of training. Ruth will help.”

Ruth glowers and crosses her arms over her chest. “You can’t make me.”

“Now, now, let’s not have any petulance. My name is Louis, but you can call me Lou, son, and I think I’ll call you J. Have you any knowledge of the different types of spirits and their uses?”

Jaime only knows so far and so much as how much of a bottle it would take before his mother, or one of her associates, would be slurring, or mean, or unconscious. “I know that they can all fuck a person up, if enough is had,” he says baldly, then winces at Ruth’s haughty expression. “Pardon the expression.”

But the Barkeep chuckles, leans back on his heels. “That’s a start and a true statement. We’ll go down the line.” One hand gestures the shelves behind him, at the wide assortment of bottles. “Whiskey. Gin. Tequila. Rum. Vodka. Brandy. These are the most famous, most utilized ones. But we do have several other varieties on offer as well. Aquavit. Calvados. Bourbon. Moonshine, for example. Each has its own distinctive qualities and characteristics. If the intention is simply to, in your words, ‘fuck a person up’, anyone can do the job. A real Barkeep, however, is quite discerning about what spirit to utilize for what purpose. What would best suit the wishes of the client and the personality of the customer. And a Barback is the Barkeep’s right hand man, one who supports the Barkeep through all the orders and their individual needs, maintains the flow of the business so that everyone leaves out happy at Last Call.” He’s a good four inches shorter than Jaime, but he doesn’t require the height to hold the younger man’s complete attention. “Are you ready for it?”

Jaime doesn’t quite know what the Barkeep is referring to, but he’s almost positive it has nothing to do with actual drinking. “I’m willing to learn, Lou.” Ruth’s expression next to her grandfather’s is snide, and it puts his back up. “Whether or not everyone’s willing to teach me.”

Lou glances from Ruth’s mutinous expression to Jaime’s raised chin, and lets out a chuckle. “You’ll do, J. You’ll do.”

***

The lights of the city never quite die down, but outside, it is finally that time of night that the streets are mostly quiet. In the manager’s office of The Distillery, Ruth nurses a cup of coffee gone cold, meticulously tallies up accounts. It’s the end of the month, and all invoices are due. The month had been a profitable one, all things considered.

The door opens behind her, and J walks in, sets down a plate next to the computer keyboard. There’s a burger on it and a basket of fries. “Eat something if you’re going to pull an all-nighter,” he says in his patient way. “You’re going to be no good tomorrow if you’re sick and exhausted.”

She glances up, and though he’s definitely filled out more, gained a few tattoos and a handful of scars and a dozen or so close calls since twelve years ago, his eyes meet hers with the same forthrightness, the same hint of awe. He’s more at ease, though, and presses a kiss to the top of her head as though he had a perfect right to her, before dropping a napkin down by the plate.

“You’re very bossy for an employee.” Ruth tries to sound cross, and almost succeeds. J blithely ignores the statement, and gives her a smile designed to disarm even the most suspicious of characters. He could have, with the right training, become a formidable part of the guild, traveling far and wide with the rest of them, but Ruth is selfishly glad that he’d never opted for that route. Something in his spirit—an altruistic, caring part that remained determinedly kind and faithful despite the cruelty of the world he’d always known, might have been extinguished in those dark alleyways and blood-soaked rooms of the world. He might have lost some of his great capacity for love, and she would have been bereft without it.

“Someone needs to keep you in line,” J gently turns her swivel chair until she is facing him, then bends at the waist, kisses the point of her cheekbone, then the corner of her mouth. “I’m pretty sure it’s in my job description.”

“Barbacks support Barkeeps with the flow of business, running tabs, and the cleanup. I don’t think there’s anything about ordering me around.”

“Stubborn. It must be hereditary.” J shakes his head, then pushes the plate towards her. “I made a promise to Lou, and to Abby’s memory. And even if I didn’t… I’m yours, til the end.” He cups her cheek with one hand, and this time she relents, meets him halfway with her own mouth for the briefest of seconds before she gives him a gentle shove on the shoulder.

“I’m busy. You’re distracting me.”

“All right, I’ll make myself scarce. But eat your food before it gets cold.” J gives her another gentle smile, and shuts the office door quietly behind his back. Ruth scoots her chair back up to the desk, and picks up a fry, dunks it in ketchup. The warm familiarity of the meal tastes like nostalgia, like a decade of teamwork and long nights and bickering.

Like not-quite childhood sweethearts and a stolen kiss before a murder.

Absinthe never missed, indeed.

#writing #R/J

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

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Alternate Moves

Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes

Summary: Sometimes it's hard to tell which is beside Sam: Bucky or his alt, Winter. (Warning for cute flufangst, which is a word because I'm telling you it's a word.)

The TV is too loud, but Sam knows that’s how Bucky likes it. A chipper, classic film is playing, one of those where the conflict is barely a conflict, one of those where the man and woman who always had feelings for each other finally admit it and all is well. It’s a particularly fancy one, too, one that glows with the first days of technicolor. The characters are in what looks like a palace (Sam is hardly paying attention) and about to enjoy some ball. Sam stopped paying attention two commercial breaks ago when he realized the only black faces in the film were servants.

Bucky’s enthralled though. Sam won’t make a sound, won’t say a thing about it, until after Bucky gets all the joy he can from it. Bucky’s eating like a kid scarfing down breakfast while watching Saturday morning cartoons, except for it’s Wednesday night and they’re eating meatloaf. So Sam sits and (discreetly) watches Bucky watch the TV.

They’re at adjacent corners of the dining table.

The ball starts. Huge hoop skirts fly up and about. Hands are offered, and the characters begin to dance.

“We could do that, ya know,” Sam says, pushing around the last few bites of his food and glancing over.

Bucky’s focus doesn’t waver. He’s finished his food and his arms are on the table by his empty plate, but Bucky is still staring at the TV. His jaw goes tight for a split second, and his answer is almost a distant breath. “I don’t remember how.”

While Sam searches his friend’s face for an indication Bucky understood his meaning, he has a whimsical thought. “Oh, so you think I’d let you lead?” Sam smiles and adds a deep laugh to the end, checking the screen. It’s a big moment for the protagonists; they’re finally getting together. The dance is a show of affection, their true feelings, and Sam’s hand almost absently slides over to Bucky’s. His middle finger is the first point of contact, followed by his ring, and soon all four are smoothing over into an open but shaky palm.

When Sam finally turns and looks at Bucky's face, the man’s eyes are wide and questioning, glaring daggers towards the spot where they’re connected. The veins in Bucky’s pale wrist stand out, and Sam thinks he hears Buck’s breath come faster, more sharply. “Is this okay?” Sam barely curls his hand, leaving plenty of space for Bucky to pull away, just in case, but he never moves.

Sam looks up to see Bucky’s eyes have softened a little, and his gaze is more curious than offended. “Hey, can you look at me?” Blue eyes jump up. “Is this okay? I can stop--”

Bucky’s hand closes gently against Sam’s.

His heart leaps into his throat. Sam has waited so, so long, gone so excruciatingly slowly to acclimate Bucky to trust him. This is the first time Sam’s touched Bucky in a distinctly romantic way. They’ve hugged--especially after Bucky comes down from an agitated high or after a fight--sure, but nothing that ever felt private, intimate. Because Sam spent so long expecting nothing at all, he’s beyond thrilled by this little gesture, thrilled to the point his toes tuck in under the chair so he can lean just a tiny bit closer.

A crescendo in the music from the TV draws Bucky’s attention back across the room, and Sam can see some recognition of the movements as Bucky’s head follows the beats.

“I think you’d be surprised how quickly it comes back. You wanna try?” He lifts their hands an inch or two off the table, an offering to lead only where Bucky is willing to follow. Sam won’t let himself get too excited, but it’s good. It’s great actually. It’s progress; it’s hope.

It’s also then that Sam notices, curiously, that Bucky’s hand is not as warm as he would have expected, that maybe Bucky does actually have poor circulation (comparatively) in his hand just like he says to pass off wearing gloves in public. While Sam’s distracted by the feel of Bucky’s skin on his, the rough callused palm beneath the pads of his fingers, Bucky gently squeezes again.

“I’d like that.”

It’s not perfect, but Sam’s elated Bucky even tries. They stand in front of the couch with hands clasped together. Sam tries not to be critical or bossy when Bucky barrels forward when he should have stepped back. All in all, Sam is happy he knows what Bucky’s skin feels like and that he didn’t get punched for some of his bad jokes along the way. He’s nervous, too; who could blame him?

Sam is also not surprised when Bucky closes off again even later on that night, clicking off the TV and offering a simple grunt before heading to his room. It takes days for Sam to remind himself to not take it personally; Bucky’s constantly taking tiny steps forward and backwards, and he knows it’s important to let the sway continue. Don’t rock the boat. The sea of Buck’s mind is choppy enough without someone from the inside pushing it this way and that.

What Sam can’t control, try as he might, is how grumpy it makes him to have a glimmer of hope smothered by these little cowering movements. He and Bucky are dancing alright: dancing around each other like polar ends of a magnet.

It’s weeks later when Sam’s staring at the remnants of meatloaf on his plate again, the sound of the too-loud TV grating on his frayed nerves, that he finally cracks.

“Ok, I’m sorry--” Sam drops the fork onto the plate so hard it scrapes, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms tight across his chest “--is that what I needed to say? I’m sorry! Maybe I shouldn’t have--dammit, Buck--” Sam claps his hand over his mouth. He’s not trying to scare Bucky, but he wants a sign, any sign, any miniscule show of openness to even another handhold. He’s willing to ask for it now, finally.

Bucky cocks his head to the side, looking down at his plate and back up. “It tastes fine, Sam.”

“Not the fucking food.” It’s funny, but it’s not because Sam doesn’t want to smile and laugh. He just wants a straight answer.

Bucky looks back down at his plate and then to the TV and then around his shoulder to the kitchen. When he turns back around, it’s slow, and his eyes are narrow. “What...did you break?” His voice is low and steady.

I broke my sanity, you idiot, that’s what. Sam takes a very, very deep breath of his own and tries again. “I’m sorry.” He sits back up and clamps his hands a little too hard around his knees. “I know the dance was probably a bit much for you, so that’s fine. But I would like permission to hold your hand again.” Man, if that fucking therapist could see me now, Sam thinks. He’s finally articulated something so important to him, in the clearest possible way, that the lump in his throat releases.

Apparently, the lump gets relodged in Bucky, who is staring at Sam like an accusing lawyer. He starts a word, then stops. He puts his own fork down, opens his mouth, and nothing. Then Bucky leans, something serious and dark passing over his eyes. He croaks out a single word. “Again?”

Sam’s insides liquify and plummet to the floor. He feels heavy, not just with guilt but with shame for not putting it together.

It wasn’t Bucky.

And now Bucky knows that he wasn’t Bucky around Sam, alone, and they touched.

The deepest voice Bucky can manage rips through that lump in his throat. “What did Winter do, Sam?”

“Woah!” Both chairs go flying out from beneath them. “Woah, hold on, Buck. It wasn’t--”

Sam has several choices and none of them are ideal. There’s no insignificant chance that Winter was coming out again simply to save Bucky the shock. Bucky could also be mad at Sam for admitting the gesture full-stop, could be angry he himself did not get to say ‘no’ which is a legitimate fear for obvious reasons. Or...this could happen.

***

Bucky’s heart rate spikes; he feels the rush in his ears and that one massive pulse point in his neck, that one that stretched painfully taut in the chair as voltage surged through his body. He’s not standing in the living room for a few seconds. He can feel the hard surface of Hydra’s chair poking between his shoulder blades, but there isn’t anything there. He knows it, but he doesn’t know it. He doesn’t know shit. He can’t understand shit.

And he’s saying that out loud…

“I don’t remember!”

“That’s ok.”

Sam lets him pace around the room, and it’s annoying. It’s embarrassing. Bucky is still here being embarrassed, and goddammit, Winter has taken some things. They just aren’t usually good things. Because Bucky’s here, goddammit, and this should be good.

“Buddy, seriously, either way, it’s not--”

“It is a big deal, Sam. When even--” His brain is on fire. There’s so much rushing through it all at once, and Bucky gets stressed a lot, gets overwhelmed a lot, dissociates from a lot of things. Those moments though...this feels worse.

He’s mad. His blood is practically boiling at this point, and Winter is probably coming. Bucky’s paying close attention to the edges of his vision, details in the room or fuzzy areas. He’s searching his brain as if that rolodex of ‘other shit you don’t understand and can’t remember’ will help.

Edges don’t feel soft. He doesn’t feel small and removed from the room; he feels like a bull in a china shop. He’s pissed and very, very aware that he’s in this room with Sam right now, but Bucky also knows that he was in this room with Sam Wilson when he missed something. That hurts. That makes the rage feel all the better, but worse, because Sam can see it. Sam will remember this even if Bucky won’t. Everyone knows more than him. Everyone remembers except Bucky.

Music is blaring from the TV as Bucky strides by.

Sam mentioned dancing.

Bucky knows they watched a movie with dancing a while ago. He can remember getting excited about the dance because it looked like something he used to know. Then he got flustered and frustrated trying to remember. Then he knew why remembering was so difficult. The choreography of dances was over-written by various kill shots and lethal fighting moves long ago. Every dance he participated in for the last half-century was a dance of death. Those weren’t things to admit to, things to want to remember.

Bucky thought he’d just forgotten the movie, thought he’d zoned out because it was just a movie and he was tired. That’s because he could remember being tired on the couch and something else was on the screen, some foul-mouthed cartoon he didn’t like, and so he’d gone to bed.

Just like that night, Sam’s now tucking in all the chairs around the table, clearing all the plates and breakable glasses away and out of reach. He always returns to behind the couch, center of the room.

But Sam said he wanted--

“I don’t understand why you would want that,” Bucky bursts, “why you would want me. I’m a mess.” He looks at his right hand for a second, but seeing the flesh and knowing it can’t let him relive the moment pisses him off more. He would rather it sting, would rather the flesh hurt like his brain hurts him now, so Bucky punches his vibranium fist hard into the flat of his hand and grinds it a little. He can feel it, and it sure as shit stings. Added bonus, the shock of pain gives Bucky an excuse for the prickling at his eyes.

The pacing is taking him from corner to corner of the big room in three strides flat. It’s too small. Bucky is too big to fit in the room. “You touch me, and I can’t--I can’t possibly. That’s not fair.” He’s blubbering like a child at this point, and it’s making him more angry. A tiny part of him is actually trying to call Winter forward because it feels like that would be easier, easier to not know, easier to forget. It’s not.

Sam is making small circles, following him with turns and ghosting steps in his general direction. “I never should have tried, and I’m sorry. It clearly pushed--I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“I’m not mad that you did it,” Bucky screeches from the other side of the couch, significantly louder than the still blaring TV. “I’m mad that I don’t remember!”

“Ok, so we know now, and we just make new memories, Buck.” Sam chances a lot to come around the corner of the sofa. Bucky’s actually vibrating with rage. His vibranium arm is whirring in anticipation of something dramatic, something that might make Bucky feel better but something that might just as well hurt Sam.

If he orders Sam to stay away, Sam might do it, and that is a crushing realization that has the rage that spreads Bucky’s chest wide imploding on itself like a spent fire. He’ll do it. He’ll stay away. Bucky will have nothing. Bucky deserves nothing.

Though the shaking continues, he’s much quieter now. “It’s good I don’t remember. Because I don’t deserve it. I am not--”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Sam jumps forward. “I’m not kidding, don’t say it again.” His deep brown eyes are flooded with a different kind of anger, a kind of violent defense that Bucky recognizes from their time together fighting. Sam’s ready to go to war; Bucky just has to say the word. It’s perfect, and he’s perfect. Bucky knows this. He understands this.

Bucky collapses into the springy cushion beneath him, exhausted, done fighting something he has no control over. “I cannot possibly be worthy of that, and you know it.” He looks up at Sam with watery eyes but mutters through the bubbles in his throat. “Winter knows it. The world goddamn knows it.”

“Bullshit.” Sam shoves his hand into Bucky’s, and the soldier looks up at him with confused, exhausted fury.

“What are you doing?” All edges of the room appear sharp. The only softness is in front of him and being shockingly mean.

“I’m holding your fucking hand, idiot. What does it look like?” Sam drags his thumb over all four of Bucky’s flesh fingers, a solid caress with an addition tinge of don’t make it weird, stupid pushed in.

Bucky looks down at their hands. He’s feeling...everything all at once, but the gesture is hard, not gentle. As the first one may have left room for panic, this one grips at him--at him--with certainty.

Sam kneels down beside the arm of the couch where their hands are resting. “You can be him a million times, Buck, but I will show you this a million times more.” He brings the bundle of their fingers up to his lips and kisses the back of Bucky’s hand.

“Plus, you cannot possibly be a worse dancer.”

Bucky huffs a choked laugh out, using his metal hand to grab below the neckline of his shirt and lift it to wipe his burning cheeks. “Well, that’s just...just…” Bucky says, “obvious.” He may not remember all the moves, but he knows that he did know them once. Winter never did. Winter, too, had never had a moment of kindness like this. In a way, Bucky’s grateful he got to experience that, and as he holds up Sam’s hand in his, he also knows they are even for now.

Even--that is--right after Bucky leads Sam in a dance.

Find more stories on my masterlist! Thank you for reading, loves.

#winterfalcon #fluff and feels #angst with a happy ending #fluff and romance #sam wilson fanfiction #bucky barnes #sam wilson #fatws fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #sambucky #sam x bucky #tfatws

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ericsonclan · 2 years

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Hi, it's me again, said I'd come up with some new questions for you, here I am xD

Alright, I really don't want to overload you two, I already got way more from you than I ever expected, so I'll keep this short.

What do you think the Ericon Kids would draw if Tenn asked them to spend some time with him?

What do you think their biggest fears are?

That's a really weird one I know, you don't have to answer any of these of course, but... what do you think they would smell like? Every human being has an individual smell, even after spending years in the forest. This one I'm actually asking because my sister forced me to, she loves to tease me about Marlon and Louis (is a Violentine fan, that little traitor xD)

To make it easier, I'd say the questions are only for Louis, Marlon, Violet, Mitch and Brody. Of course if you want to add more, feel free to do that, I just really don't want to pressure you or anything, have been asking you a lot xD

Greetings from Germany and have a nice day!

Dang! First off, thanks for the questions, always fun to discuss different things for TWDG!

Also warning that this is a long post so get ready to read. Maybe grab a cup of tea first.

Alright, so this question is super cute! Art time with Tenn, our little hearts <3

Louis: We feel like it would depend on his mood. He would draw whatever came to mind. Maybe a doodle of him and his friends, maybe the music room. This would only be after Tenn is gone so not quite what the question asked. But when Clementine shows up and after they get together I'd say Louis would have fun drawing them as little doodles maybe him as a prince and her as a warrior princess. Both of them take down a dragon with AJ. Stuff like that.

Marlon: He would always be pretty exhausted but he'd make time to draw with Tenn here and there. His mind would blank easily on what to draw and would more like than not end up drawing some of the buildings of Erison. They are right there and he can't think of anything else. Although after a while he might doodle a dog or two.

Violet: She would be one of the ones to draw with Tenn the most and would agree pretty much anytime he asked. As for what she draws I'd say she'd draw stars a lot, birds would also be something she'd doodle too. Lots of time her mind blanks for what she wants to draw so she draws whatever. Clouds, grass, the gate, anything since to her its more that art makes Tenn happy and she gets to spend time with him.

Mitch: Well, we get to see a bit of what he draws in his notebook so I'd say he does similar art to that when with Tenn. So he draws cartoon bombs, walkers some on fire, some not, and some critters too. He wouldn't really show this to many of the others but he enjoys drawing flowers. Makes him feel happy.

Brody: She would probably draw the beach for starters but what she would work on time after time with Tenn is her dream road trip map. She would take way too much time making the lettering look right and the colors. She'd add any stops that Tenn or the others wanted. It would help the others get away from the intensity of reality and slip into this hopeful dream. Just them together on a road trip, no walkers, no worries.

Ruby: She would probably draw cowboys and flowers. She would get really into the narrative with Tenn when he asks about the cowboy's backstory and Willy ends up getting invested. So now they have a cowboy character that the three of them like to draw adventures for. Besides that, Ruby would probably try to draw her family and get emotional hoping that her mom, dad, and four brothers are okay.

Sophie: She would spend any and all time she could with her brother, especially if it's art. What she draws depends on the day, sometimes its cartoon looking animals or clouds and flowers. But when they start losing a lot of the Ericson kids before the events of TFS Sophie made it her duty to do portraits of them. She wanted them not to be forgotten and she wanted it so that if someone ever brought up someone like Therissa they could use Sophie's portrait of her to remember what she looked like. Maybe the drawing would even help them recall some memories too.

2. As for biggest fears some of them are in the game and get explored a bit like Louis and Violet.

Louis: Having to kill someone. We believe this was the answer one of the writers gave when asked this question. But we also believe he would fear that eventually everyone will just completely ignore him and he'd disappear into the background. This plays heavily into his low self-esteem issues.

Marlon: Failing the others as the leader, losing friends, and them finding out the secret of what happened with the twins. As it turns out his worst fears end up coming true in the game.

Violet: Being abandoned. You learn more about this on her route but she has deep abandonment issues and for good reason too. With how her grandma passed away along with the poor home life she had growing up, being sent away to Ericson then having Minnie disappear as well as one of her best friends, Sophie. It was a lot and she fears that if she gets abandoned once more she'll just completely shut off from the others and the world.

Mitch: Willy dying would probably be his biggest fear. He has been protecting him since the apocalypse started so since Willy was around 4. Willy is like a little brother to him, he's family. Also, we would add any of the younger kids dying as well so that includes Tenn too.

Brody: Most likely it's the others all dying or being taken away. She worries about that a lot, which gives her lots of panic attacks in the middle of the night, She fears the idea of being alone and being too weak to help keep those she cares about safe.

3. Huh, smell, okay, this is an interesting question. Okay well right off the bat let's say regardless of how much we love the Ericson kids to pieces they would all smell godawful. Eight years into the apocalypse would definitely make them stinky. So let's exclude that layer of smell they would have as well as the smell of blood and the potential walker guts on them.

Louis: We say that he smells like pine cone or evergreen trees, so he smells like a forest. But he also smells of dust, paper and candle wax since he spends all his time in the music.

Marlon: He smells like Teen Spirit (lol). Okay on a serious note, since he sleeps in the headmaster's office and Rosie is always with him and extremely cuddly he would most likely smell heavily of dog.

Violet: She smells of moss and vines. This is due to how frequently she climbs up onto the wall and lays down on it. With how many years of the apocalypse have occurred, those walls are vine-filled and mossy so that's what she smells like.

Mitch: He smells like fertilizer due to all the bombs he works on.

Brody: She smells like rain, there is something really nice and calming about it (We joke that after Mitch catches feelings for her he tends to not shut up about liking rain).

Omar: He smells like smoke from the fire and like rabbit and fish. This is the price for being a chef you wind up smelling like the ingredients and materials you work with.

Aasim: He smells like deodorant because of the deodorant stash he keeps but he also tends to smell like smoke as well. That boy loves his flames.

Thanks for the ask!

#twdg #twdg louis #twdg marlon #twdg violet #twdg mitch #twdg brody #twdg ruby #twdg tenn #twdg willy #twdg omar #twdg aasim #twdg sophie #violet tenn brotp #sophie tenn brotp #mitch willy brotp #twdg moody #twdg aj #twdg clementine #clouis

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mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune · 1 year

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Nicknames To Call The Royalty And Nobility Of Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss & Theories And Other Stuff To Talk About...

first I want to say that it was too bad I didn’t get to post any “Halloween Fanart” like either a video game character or cartoon character or both on Halloween...

I did get to watch a movie during that time, a DVD of Nightmare before Christmas.....I was going to start with Corpse Bride first and then go to watching Nightmare Before Christmas, but at some point in the movie where Victor was in that netherworld....?

well I think there is something wrong with the DVD and no matter how many times I stop the movie, and then go back to the chapter it had stop on...well it kept freezing up, so might have to try to fix it sometime...

I know we have one of those items that is suppose to help fix a disc when that kind of thing happens, or if it is dirty.

also even though it was Halloween, it just didn’t....feel much like it to me during that day, I guess it was one of those days maybe...?

where you might feel in a little in a “Meh” mood...

anyway we know that Asmodeus, Mr. Playboy Heart-Breaker of Lust....

is also known by his nickname Ozzie...

one of the nicknames I would like for Charlie’s Dad,

would be Eon-Boomer, and Sugar Apple Papa...

I did do a drawing of Charlie’s Dad wearing a shirt with the words “Sugar Apple Papa”....

and I know that Mammon hasn’t appeared yet in Helluva Boss,

but I still want to call him by the nickname Manny, and even Mona...

but Manny seems to fit the most...

besides messing with Lucifer by giving him a shirt that reads Sugar Apple Papa.

messing with Mammon by giving him a shirt with a arrow pointed up at his face that reads This Dork For Rent, was the best idea I ever had when drawing a fan art of the Mammon from Helluva Boss, even if we don’t know what he will officially look like yet, and only know a little bit of how he looks from his picture on the money....

but once we do see him appear in a episode, I’m still gonna call him “Manny”

and if some theories about Beelzebub is true, I know I had watched a theory video that has to with the Hellhounds that had to do with her...

I forgot the name of the video but if I find it again, I will re-watch it...

and well we know that Asmodeus’s canon nickname is Ozzie, and Mammon’s fanon nickname is Manny (because I started to call him by the nickname Manny, I would like to tease him with that nickname. XP )

but as for Beezlebub, well I can’t help but have a certain nickname in mind for her even if it might never be canon...

and well it’s a nickname that I’m gonna kind of censor in this....

so yeah, anyway....her nickname would be Beezleb*tch.

not sure what her official appearance will be or when she will be in a episode, but in my fan headcanon, her nickname is Beezleb**ch.....

I do have a theory that the episode was suppose to be in Season 1 of Helluva Boss, where Blitz and Loona go to some party...?

that has that Male Hellhound that was being friendly with Loona that showed in a preview clip...

my guess is that it is possible that episode might end up being part of Season 2, because of certain reasons...

I don’t mind waiting for that episode, and I’m sure the Team that works on the show are doing there best and hope they are making sure to take some breaks, like for food, sleep and well, maybe even watching a movie or playing a video game...

anyway back to the whole nicknames....

Belphegor, would be called Bell or Belph....? the Prince of Envy, could be called Levy... and well as for Satan, I am still sticking with Stan as a nickname...

I know that Moxxie and Millie live in the Wrath Ring, which is suppose to be ruled by him....

well, I guess we might end up seeing him in a future episode, don’t know when or what season...

and is it weird to have thoughts of me wanting to flip him the double bird...?

well at least the Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss version of him, didn’t end up having some Toxic Followers that harmed one of my past life selves...

yeah, I’m so going to hope that in my next reincarnations, I never end up being reborn in to a Toxic-Satanist Family, there should be some kind of freaking rule that forbids Earth Angels, even Defective ones like myself, from having their soul placed in a body, that is just gonna be used in one of those rituals.

and yeah, Toxic-Satanist are but only one of the names of the Toxic-Religious people on my list....like those disgusting Toxic-Priests and Toxic-Nuns who did some pretty messed up stuff and crossed a line that should never be crossed...

I think it is possible that while maybe some people are Satanist, I think some have some sense not to cross a certain line....

and it might be for the best that past life memories, are only remembered in a bits and pieces and not the full picture, because for some who had something really bad happen to them in one of their past lives....sometimes it is best to NEVER remember it, because it could be bad.

but with luck, some memories you have will just be copy memories from your soul parent or parents that your soul was born from...

you will still have your own memories, but it is likely some copy memories from your soul parents or soul parents, will be stuck to your soul’s memory.

also after thinking about the episode that Striker appears in,

I got to say that it was awesome for not ending up like certain shows that portray those who live in a place where everyone is viewed as a “hillbilly”

still, jokes on some people, I might technically be a Hillbilly...

but my parents weren’t, because they were born elsewhere.

I mean, the whole “backwards hillbilly” trope could still be used in some shows and movies, but some humans should have common sense to know that not everyone who is a hillbilly, will be like that.

and there can be other reasons why some might end up missing some teeth, which by the way, wouldn’t be for whatever reason that is shown in the backwards trope...

don’t know how many go through it, and plus some who aren’t even living in the places where they are called hillbillies...

there could be different reasons why it can happen, but even if it does happen, don’t give some the right to just assume whatever it is they are thinking, no matter if it is “hillbilly stereotyping” or something else...

anyway, we know that Blitz did give a stereotypical comment about Imps from the Wrath Ring, but it’s possible that he knows that some of the stereotyping of the Imps from the Wrath Ring, is not 100% true.

it could be possible that some Imps from each ring, will marry other Imps from other rings, and if Striker is a hybrid type Imp...

then it could be possible that at some point in the past, Imps started to marry or had some kind of affair with other non-Imps, and ended up having Imp Hybrid offspring together.

also one of my Helluva Boss theories, is that a Female Imp’s horns are made out of some type of obsidian, well that is a weird theory but not all theories have to be correct...

it could be possible that we wont see the other princes right away in Helluva Boss, but we might end up seeing Stella’s brother and even Mammon next at some point in the future.

a weird thought pop into my head just now, picturing Stella’s brother doing that whole hand to the wall and leaning to a person who’s back is to the wall trope...

and the one he is doing that to is Collin....

that ship might only stay in the fanon, but I guess I would be surprised if that ship ended up becoming popular, but how many would end up shipping Collin x Andrealphus together...?

just picture Stella screaming at Andrealphus “Not You Too?!”

all while he is hugging Collin, who is trying very hard to escape but can’t because of how tightly Andrealphus has a hold on him.

one of the nicknames for Stella’s brother, can be Andy and Andrea.

also I have tried to look up some form of info that has to do with the info I read before that has to do with Jesus purposely causing some kind of bad stuff, but with any luck that information is just not true and is myth...

but if he so much as does try to actually try to cause a war between some nations, that would pretty much peeve me off...

there is still no proof that he would technically be my ancestor, because even if his blood type is different from O RH D Negative and well, even if someone’s blood type is different they could still have genetic of some blood types that come from their different families either on their father or mother’s side...

but yeah I know that he is suppose to be a descendant of King David, like me...

so the only proof that makes us technically family, is that and making us distant cousins.....and I guess being a Earth Angel, I guess there can be other relations as well....

I still don’t think I would be allowed to grab him by his ear if he ends up trying to cross a line, even if I still want to grab the Antichrist by the ear and show no mercy to the said ear....cause I ain’t having none of that mess.

it might be a good thing that the Feminine energy is getting back into balance, not counting the Toxic-Feminine energy.

it is possible that Mary Magdalene was the Feminine Messiah, but just because I and others might believe it could be true, doesn’t mean that everyone will.

I also think it is good that Helluva Boss and maybe even Hazbin Hotel, have a slightly different history from the canon stuff that is wrote about the angels, fallen angels and demons that is wrote in myths and religion...

although it can suck to know how the daughters of Eve and Adam are possibly not given enough respect....

also if Lilith was Adam’s first wife, he should of left her alone so she could heal properly, and Adam trying to force her to come back to him and not telling God the full reason why she left in the first place...

it just doesn’t seem right, plus after thinking about yesterday....

I came to the theory that when Lilith left Adam, she was pregnant with his unborn child or children....

and it might of been a good thing she left, because the bad stress wouldn’t of been good for the baby or babies if she was going to have twins.

and if Lilith had 100 children, the ones that she had with Adam, would be the eldest....

not everyone has to agree to that theory, but I think it could be possible that Lilith was pregnant when she left Adam.

also the weirdest theory I have is that Fizzarolli and Blitzo had ended up switching bodies, before the whole Stolas x Blitz affair and before Fizzarolli started to work with Ozzie and before he got those robotic limbs.

which if that theory were true, that would mean that the Blitz we know, was originally Fizzarolli and the Fizzarolli we know was originally Blitzo.

both could love horses, even if their friendship fell apart.

Fizzarolli, who now goes by Blitz and doesn’t want to go by the “o” because it is silent now....could of had two reasons to want to use Stolas’s book.

one, to go to Earth and see the horses there and two, to find a way to switch himself and Blitzo who is now called Fizzarolli, back to normal.

anyway I don’t think I have much else to say for this....

I mean there was the nicknames, and some other stuff....

I think in my next post after this, I will talk about a FNAF theory....

I also want to say that even if the nickname might be a bit rude,

the nickname Beelzeb*tch had pop into my head.....

I think it first pop into my head when watching a Helluva Boss Theory video...

I loved the two episodes of Season 2 of Helluva Boss.

and my thoughts about Loona and Octavia are this...

I sib it, because once again not all “Ships” will be romantic, and you ONLY use the “I ship it” if it is gonna be the romantic type.

if it’s a sibling type thing, where it’s platonic and not romantic...

you use “I sib it.” and for family either adoptive or step-family...

you use “I fam it.”.....and for friendships, there is “I bud it.”

I think that Loona will be like a big sister and friend to Octavia, which would be both a I sib it and I bud it type.

anyway I’m gonna go watch a movie first, before I talk about a FNAF theory...

and maybe I will talk about a Undertale and Deltarune theory after that....

and maybe I will think about other nicknames for the royalty and nobility from Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel.

I’m still gonna call Mammon from Helluva Boss, by the nickname Manny.

maybe I will do another drawing of him wearing a shirt that says This Dork For Rent.....I think I might be really weird to come up with that idea...

it would of still been nice if I had did a drawing for Halloween but I didn’t get to, I did kind of sleep half through it, and only was able to wake up for the few hours left of Halloween, and I got to watch a movie during that time.

it just didn’t feel much like Halloween, I guess some might of felt this way before for some days, not just for Halloween.

hopefully when it does get to Christmas, it will feel like Christmas.

one of the things I can look forward to this month, before the next month where Christmas will be starting on....

is that on November, there will be a Season 3 of the Cuphead Show.

oh and this month I saw some new trailer for the Bendy and the Dark Revival, so it disproves any assumptions about that game being canceled.

just got to wait a few more days for Season 3 of the Cuphead Show.

also want to add that in theory, that Lucifer and Lilith from Hazbin Hotel, might either be very affectionate with each other and are very much in love which is how some fans write fan fic or fan art about them...

or they could be on the rocks and could be having a on-and-off type of thing going on....so there are two theories, one is that those two are madly and silly in love or two, they are having a little bit of a separation and coming close to a divorce but still see each other because they are on that “on-and-off” type of love....one of those two theories might be true...

#hazbin hotel theory #helluva boss theory #nicknames #royalty #nobility #mature audiences only #not for kids #talking about feelings

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bernblogs · 6 months

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The Goodest Boy

The vet stands in the corner of the room, and the dog lays on the metal table. The mother, daughter, and son are all crying–staring at the body that used to be the goodest boy in the entire world. When the sniffles stop for a bit, the vet cuts in. The daughter guesses he’s practiced this many times, cutting into the grieving. He says his condolences, not without emotion, but with a cadence that tells you you aren’t special. He talks about how long the goodest boy has been with the mother and the daughter and the son… And then he tells the family that they did everything they could. And then he says the suspected cause of death. And then he says he understands how much he means to the family. Yet the daughter thinks, you don’t understand, he is– was really the goodest boy in the entire world. Do not look at his remains like you understand. We’ve lost him before he completely collapsed. He was the goodest boy until his body failed him. Then the daughter thinks, how dare I write an essay in my head when the goodest boy in the entire world lies dead? Sometimes, literary sentimentality can save us from breaking down completely.

Mommy brings a spoon of meat and skin from chicken on the table. She walks to a dog bowl and calls, “Augustus, here!” We both pause. Only for a fraction of a second, even though it feels much longer. We look at each other, and silently, we share and carry our sadness.

We got Augustus Morris in 2019. One morning, Kuya asked me and Mommy to go to a dog breeder. We have gone to the house before to pick up the first dog Kuya will ever buy from them–Bugel. Bugel was given to his girlfriend’s family. He’d be renamed to something less silly, and he’d grow up kingly.

We picked up Augustus from the same house, maybe a year later. He looked quite like Bugel as a puppy. Black, white, small, a little funny-looking. We think: he’s going to grow up as refined as Bugel. We were completely wrong.

Sure, he grew older. But grow up? He didn’t seem to. He’s a mix between a chihuahua and a shih tzu, and it seems that he only got the chihuahua blood. He remained small, except unlike most chihuahuas I’ve met, he wasn’t nervous or feisty. He never growled or tried to bite my face. (Someone’s chihuahua tried to do this to me before. Rest in peace, Chico). Instead he was jumpy and behaved; he was so goofy. Unlike Bugel, he did not look refined or regal after a year or two. He remained as silly as can be.

Across the four years we had him, he’d meet the entire extended family. They’d pet him, carry him, draw him even. Look for him when he was sleeping or hiding. Everybody watched him because everybody loved him. He was small and funny like a cartoon, and he’d snuggle up to almost anyone who gave him attention. He would also end up meeting all our current partners–Kuya’s, Ate’s, mine.

When my partner visited for the first time, he fell in love–with Augustus, not me. I know this because he kept carrying him around like a little airplane. Or like that superman game you play with kids where they put their belly on the soles of your feet then you lift them up. He would begin to share this with his family, with his siblings the most. And then his friends. And my friends.

This was just upon seeing Augustus too; without spending time with him, they just know that he’s the goodest boy in the entire world. His mere existence was enough. His energy. His earnestness.

He was the goodest boy to them even without knowing that he would sneak into my room to wake me up or to say hello to me while I do yoga. That we would wake up with one slipper missing because he stole them in the night so he could cuddle with them in his bed. That he would never snatch food from your hand no matter how close it was to his face because he waited for someone to say go! That when he saw me crying or felt that I was sad, he’d jump next to me so we could both sit with my feelings. That he would sneak into the deepest part under tables or chairs so that I couldn’t give him a bath. That he smiled for the camera like a person. That he’d tap on our legs during meals to ask for food. That he would sit near Mommy while she sliced kamatis or pipino because he knew she’d give him some. That he would play with an unopened pistachio like a real toy. That he loved people as fiercely as people loved him.

I wanted to tell the vet when he said he understood that he didn’t. Because he never knew Augustus. He didn’t see him lying on his back while sleeping, moving his legs like he’s running in his dreams. He didn’t see him wag his tail when I pointed my camera at him. He didn’t see him sit in front of the bathroom door while Mommy took a bath like a real guard. He couldn’t understand that the body there used to be the goodest boy in the entire world because he never really saw him. He never will. I wanted to say all of this, but I didn’t because what was the point? Augustus is gone. The goodest boy is gone.

Instead, we take the box amicably in our hands. Carry his body into the car. Give him a burial. And we cry some more. And then to myself, I think of what John Green says in The Anthropocene Reviewed, “[L]ove survives death.” And I do hope so.

Augustus, I know you cannot read all this. You will never comprehend that I’m telling you how much I love you. How much we all do. But I hope, in the time that you were stealing our slippers and eating ube from my fingers and refusing to eat banana, you felt the entirety of it.

#pet death #pet loss #bernblogs

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captainstarburst · 6 months

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4 8 16 25 26 30 :)

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

tbh.. me ANDKSHF nix/starb. i love that guy (me) but hes like. just slightly complex enough to make my quest to want to draw him the same every time really hard. i love to do it though

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

uuhhhhhm. in terms of old old stuff i used to have an entire comic i was making when i was like. 12. sometimes i miss making comics. more recently. honestly i finish most of what i start bc i haaaate unfinished stuff but i sketched a version of the hapsburg lippp animation meme that i never ended up lining or anything. back in january of 2021 i think. maybe someday i'll remake it but thats a very slim chance

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing

id say probably painting backgrounds? i dunno. sometimes i enjoy it but it tends to be kind of a slog but i feel like they always look nice. just takes a long time

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

oh god my memory. ppl dont really compare my stuff to other stuff too often i dont think? but theres probably a bunch of cartoons people think ive seen that i actually havent LOL

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

oh man. honestly any of my weirder art. the one with starb as a tamagatchi and villian got a lot of reactions of ppl calling it cute. which wasnt not my intention? but also that piece was abt like. the kind of unhealthy stuff they had going on for a bit. theres also stuff like the giant starb piece that ppl have been Weird abt when its really personal and symbolic to me. and that always makes me a little peeved

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

MOST OF MY ANIMATIONS. i wish spending like a week on an animation had more of a reward than it does. but uhhh i dont really know how to judge if something is underrated. mostly if i like it im happy with it GHFJKGH but theres probably some stuff with lower notes if you scroll through my art blog that id say is underrated but i dont get too hung up on it

#captains log #ask #apotheoseity

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fangurk · 3 years

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Puppy Love (The Cullen Family x Child! Werewolf! Reader)

Key:

Y/n - Your Name

Y/h/c - Your Hair Color

Y/e/c - Your Eye Color

Y/f/c - Your Favorite Color

Y/f/f - Your Favorite Flavor

Prompt (given to me by @inrice): but could you do something along the lines of the cullens (mainly alice) takes upon the job of raising a werewolf!reader? who's a child of course.

Summary: Alice Cullen stumbles upon a very strange, very lonely child while out on a hunt and, in true Cullen fashion, decides to take them home. Nobody knows how to take care of a werewolf or a child, but when they put in a collective effort (and bring in the help of Bella) things start getting easier...

Warning: Is this kidnapping? It might be kidnapping, fluff, slightly angsty at some parts, AU because Caius is cruel, and potentially odd genderless terms of endearment.

A/n: family fic makes the brain go brrr. so like i didn't really know how to handle the whole werewolf thing because the twilight lore is so... bare... and i wanted to write more on the family parts so it's not like a real focus but it is mentioned quite a bit. I hope that's okay! /gen

Word Count: 1.2k+

Alice wasn’t able to foresee you.

She simply stumbled across you one day on a hunt, your tiny body curled up at the base of a tree. You smelled so much of dog she almost mistook you for one, and then you looked up at her with big y/e/c eyes and she knew.

Carlisle wasn’t very happy when she brought you home.

“The Volturi will have a field day with this.” He says as he repacks his doctor bag. “The child is dangerous to have around.”

“But they're all alone, Carlisle. You said it yourself, they looked like they were out there for days— and I waited there with them until nightfall, no one came…”

Her shoulders fall and she looks at the door separating them from the rest of the family.

“Oh please just let them stay, we’ll all take care of them— if anything we’re better suited for it than anyone!”

Carlisle opens his mouth to protest but is interrupted by Esme opening the door, you asleep in her arms. All of his hesitance melts away at the sight, and at the sound of your small snores.

He sighs. “Fine, the child can stay— but we have to be careful.”

Alice nearly erupts with her joy, and Carlisle tries to hide a smile.

──────────────────

They give you a nice bedroom.

Rosalie, Alice, and Esme take an entire day to shop, nearly clearing out three children’s stores in the process. They build you furniture and they paint the walls a pretty shade of y/f/c; you now own more toys and clothes than a kid can possibly comprehend.

You spend the day with Emmett, the only Cullen boy who’s comfortable getting close to you, and he introduces you to the wide range of children’s cartoons. Your browsing ended with Crashbox, something that had the big man far more into it than you, but it was fun nonetheless.

“Want to see your room, Y/n?” Rosalie hums, poking her head around the corner and flashing you a dazzling smile.

The ladies let you wander around the new space, excitement brightening your features.

Emmett is still enraptured by the TV long after you’re put to bed.

──────────────────

Most days are good days.

Even if two of the family members seem a little afraid of you, you’re happy. You’re fed and clothed and loved.

But then there are bad days.

You wouldn’t eat. Nothing Esme made you was satisfactory and you were too upset and overwhelmed to let anyone know what you wanted; everyone tries to comfort you, even Jasper with his powers, but none of it really seems to work.

And then Edward comes home.

He left at some point during the crying and everyone figured that he was just bailing ship like he usually does when it comes to you. But, in reality, he somehow managed to get a cohesive reading of your mind and immediately went to someone who could help him.

“I brought Bella.” He says, gesturing awkwardly at his equally awkward girlfriend when five sets of frustrated eyes land on him.

“And I brought chicken nuggets…” The brunette human raises the bag up with a smile.

Everyone watches in confusion as you perk up a bit.

“Uh, here.” Bella crosses the room and places the bag down in front of you.

You open the bag and immediately start eating, sniffling but no longer upset. Every Cullen is reeling in shock.

“Well. What do you have to say to Bella?” Alice clears her throat, giving you an encouraging smile.

“Thank you, Bella.” You mumble, mouth full of food.

“Oh- it was actually Edward’s idea.”

You turn and thank him, beaming, and he gives you a crooked smile in return.

Afterward, Edward doesn’t really avoid you anymore.

──────────────────

‘Children of the Moon’ don’t pass their lycanthropy onto their offspring.

Alice doesn’t like to think about it, but sometimes the implication that someone bit and infected you consumes her mind and it makes her want to cry.

──────────────────

On the days they go to school, you do too.

They figure it’s good for you to spend time with other kids your age, and it seems to be. You always come home with crazy stories of playtime adventures and smelling of paint and crayons; the teachers love you, or more so the bright little woman who picks you up from school.

“Draw your family.” The teacher encourages one day.

You draw the Cullens.

When you proudly hand it to Alice when she picks you up from school, she lifts you up in a hug. Jasper frames your little drawing and puts it up next to all of their graduation caps.

──────────────────

The full moon is pretty horrific.

In order to keep everyone safe from your tiny claws, they keep you in the basement. For hours before the transformation, you just lie down there and wail-- you’re only little, it’s only fair.

Alice sits outside and talks to you the whole time, her voice wavering and her hands shaking.

She doesn’t move after the wails turn into howls, even if it would be safer to do so.

──────────────────

“Does Jasper hate me?”

You’re wrapped up in bandages, sitting on the picnic blanket with your adoptive mother and eating a sandwich too big for you as her husband pretends to do something down by the water. Alice is completely blindsided. They’ve sort of explained what they are to you, and you’ve kind of filled in blank spaces to the best of your ability, but she’s still unsure how to explain Jasper’s hesitance.

She doesn’t wind up having to.

“No,” He says, sitting down next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “I don’t. I’m actually quite fond of you darlin’.”

That alone seems to satisfy you and, over time, he loosens up a bit.

Jasper seems happier than he has in a while, listening to you talk about things little kids talk about, and Alice watches fondly with a smile.

──────────────────

One of them reads a story and tucks you into bed every night.

Most times it’s Alice, sometimes Jasper joins in.

Tonight is one of those nights. You’re clean and showered, dressed in a cute little pajama set, and nestled under the covers; she’s lying down next to you, Goodnight Moon open in her hands, and he’s in a chair next to the bed.

“... goodnight noises everywhere.” She finishes, smiling at your drooping eyes and lulling head.

Carefully, she unwinds herself from you and, with the help of her husband tucks the blanket under your sides. You tug your favorite stuffed animal close to your chest, y/e/c eyes closed, and a smile on your little face.

“Goodnight, y/n.” “Night, kid.” They each say, Alice bending down to kiss your head and Jasper opting to stand there and smile.

“G’night mom and dad.”

Jasper’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head and he turns to face his wife quickly.

Alice Cullen, the girl who forgot half of her life, never felt more whole than she did standing in your room, holding her mate’s hand, and turning off the light as the hushed sound of a cricket’s song filled the big house...

tag list:

@batmanunicorns523

#alice cullen x reader #jasper hale x reader #alice cullen imagine #jasper hale imagine #the cullens x reader #the cullens #twilight imagines #twilight saga #twilight #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #edward cullen #bella swan #carlisle cullen #esme cullen

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ladyperceval · 3 years

Text

Cuddly lazy morning sex

warning: minors go look at some cartoons or something, this post contains sex.😅

Lando Norris:

Lando is inexperienced at many things, like he is a bit vanilla in the sheets. But I feel like he would really enjoy lazy morning sex. Lando, would wake up to you grinding against him, while you slowly wake up in his arms. He would kiss your neck and whisper in your ear "the early bird catches the worm, are you ready to catch this one?" you would start giggling because he always loves to make you laugh. You would feel him smile against your neck and then his hands would move down to panties, where he moves them down your legs before he removes his boxers and enters you while still cuddling. It would be slow and sensual. He would thrust slow but deep, making sure to hit all the right spots. Once you have both reached your climaxes, Lando would go and run a bath for you two.😫

Mick Schumacher:

Mick is all about pleasing you. So, if he wakes up and he really needs you, he will make sure you on in the mood first, however it has become a sort of tradition for you and mick to have slow morning sex the day of the races. It would start off with you giving him a good luck blowjob, that would make Mick just question what he did to deserve a goddess like you. Before you could bring him over the edge though, Mick would pull you up, kiss you and simply say "This morning is about you, but tonight will be about me." with that Mick would flip you, so you are on your back and with a little arranging, before you know it, you have two pillows under your hips and Mick entering you. He would stare at you, as you throw your head back, moaning at how deep he feels, he would be slow, but his thrusts would be hard and his hand rubbing your clit would cause you to scream his name very quickly. Once you have both caught your breathes, Mick would start getting ready to go. He would make sure to leave a team shirt with his name on it out for you. He knows your legs would be like jelly for a few hours.😌

Pierre Gasly:

Bath sex. You would wake up to the sound of the bath running and the smell of lavender in the air, knowing it was one of your oils in the bath water. You would lie in bed thinking it was just Pierre having a bath but you would be pleasantly surprised to see Pierre exit the bathroom in all his naked glory, he would smile at you as he leans against the door frame and says "The bath is ready, are you going to join me?" you would smile and slowly make your way over to him, where he would grab you by your waist and bring you into a passionate kiss. He would grab the hem of your sleeping shirt (one of his) and take it off, while you shimmy out of your panties. He would kiss your lips once more before taking your hand and pulling you towards the bathtub. He would get in and simply wait for you to join him. He would be surprised when you climb in facing him, but he is quick to place you in his lap and enter you. He would let you control the pace, and he wouldn't be shy to bite the skin around your nipples or squeeze them to help you see fireworks. Pierre would notice when you get tired, and he would slowly lift you up before letting you fall back on him to meet his slow thrust. As soon as both you and Pierre finish at the same time, you would take turns washing each other.👀

Max Verstappen:

I get the vibe that Max feels as though morning sex is a bit of a chore. Max likes things hard and fast; he might enjoy teasing you and edging you, but he knows by the end of it that you are screaming his name. So max is pleasantly surprised when he wakes up after the Monaco gp and you just suggest a nice relaxing day in bed. He doesn't complain when you pull down his boxers and straddle him, you align him and drop onto his length, moaning while he groans at the feeling of you squeezing him. That’s when he looks up at you and notices it, the sun is shining making you look breath-taking as you throw your head back, moaning at how deep he feels. Max sees the sun glinting off the promise ring he gave you months ago and when you look down at him, he finally notices one of the sexiest things he has ever seen. You, in his cap, riding him. Making him feel like a champion because of his win. Expressing how much you live him through actions instead of words. You felt Max grab your ass, causing you to groan, but before he could flip you, you place your hand on his chest and simply say "let’s go slow today love, you were fast enough yesterday." he groans but lets you push him to his climax at a slow and loving pace. After a cuddle session of you just lying on his chest, you and max head to the shower for round 2.🥵

Dani Ric:

Dani was down lately; he wasn't feeling as though McLaren including him and so mornings were often spent with you trying to cheer him up. Dani always loved it when you would use your mouth to wake him up. After Monza, he expected it to end. But he was so wrong. He nearly finished when he felt your mouth wrap around his length, he groaned when he looked down and saw you between his legs. He would try to move his hands and grab your hair to control your movements, but his hands would be stopped. You had tied him to the bedpost. He would groan because he loves to touch you. But you knew that as soon as he touched you, he would want to be in control. You slowly move you way up, kissing along his stomach, his chest, his neck and biting his jaw, before slowly sinking down on his length. You would go slow, simple moving your hips in a circular motion, just building up some of the tension between you and Dani, before you start to move faster, you would untie him and let him sit up and hold you while he helps move you up and down his length. The two of you would whisper word of praise in each other’s ears before finishing. You moaning Dani's name and him praising your beauty. After a quick shower, you and Dani would walk around Monza, enjoying a morning gelato.😉

Charles Leclerc:

Charles loves slow morning sex, why? Because he gets to worship you! Yes, Charles likes to be in control and sometimes he likes to be rough and every now and again a quickie is needed, but when Charles can just take his time and worship you, he loves it. He would start off by waking you up with kiss, from your neck down the left side of your body, till he reaches the middle of your thigh and then he would switch sides, once he has your full attention, he will sink between your legs and let you grab his hair, as you moan at the sensation of his tongue teasing you. He will leach you reach your climax before pulling you up, he would turn you around so you are in reverse cowgirl, and he will enter you. He will give you a few thrusts, allowing you to get used to the view, before he spreads his legs straight in front of him, and pushes you down to lie between them. The new position allows for Charles to reach those deep spots and to continuously hit them, while your clit grinds against his length as he thrusts. You would be screaming for Charles within a few minutes. Slow morning sex for Charles is all about over-stimulating you and making sure that he gets all his frustrations out in a careful manner. Charles and you would spend the whole day in bed. With Charles eventually drawing a warm bath for you to help relax you as he washes you.🍆🥵💦

Me:

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hollyhomburg · 3 years

Text

Color me pretty

(Bts Little space au)

Summary: When it came to the littles, the caregivers knew there was no better activity than coloring.

Tags: SFW, implied bts x reader, pure fluff, little space, little! kookie, Little! m/c, Caregivers! bts,

W/c: 1.5k

A/n: If you don’t like this kind of content please just skip over it and pay it no mind! this is very sweet and fluffy. this can be read alone, but i did use the characters from my other little space ask au titled ‘the peanut butter to my jelly’ it’s linked at the end of the fic! i wrote this drabble in one sitting!

- On the nights that Koo and the m/c are non-verbal but still feeling energetic enough to need stimulation the caregivers have a special little ritual that they like to do.

- it’s something tucked away, always ready to have on hand when they need it, it never fails to calm an overly excited or sugar high little; the blanket made out of a special material that can be washed after it’s doodled on, painted, and made new.

- On those special days, the caregivers bring around all their ‘messy blankets’ the fort making supplies that no one minds if they get ruined, if koo gets his apple sauce on it or if a sippie mistakenly gets it’s lid taken off. they make a nest in the living room with markers and crayons and they’re allowed to get the blanket as colorful as possible.

- The blanket is magic in the littles eyes! filled with simple flowers that they can color in as many times as they want! All the laundry fairy (Taehyung) has to do is pop the blanket in the washer and voila! it’s all ready for more coloring! no more marker marks.

- I just picture her and Koo stretched out on it with half of their stuffed animals for “moral support” while cartoons play in the background coloring to their hearts content. Koo gets a little younger in his headspace sometimes than the m/c though they’re pretty equal in general.

- Eventually koo just gets so small that he forgoes coloring all together, instead busying himself with sucking on the end of a marker. while the m/c just giggles with her tongue hanging out, swinging her feet, the picture of adorable concentration as she struggles to keep her pink marker inside the lines.

- Occasionally one of the caregivers will come in to check on them. And they’d come pet over their heads and koo and the m/c just excitedly gesture to the mess they’ve made! their brains too cottony to make many words other than “flower! made’ pink!!!” koo in his little sing song voice going “flower flower flower~”

- And whichever caregiver who is on “baby duty” will praise them, today it’s yoongi who takes a second to sit, each of the littles tucked under an arm. yoongi leaning in close and tracing his finger along their pretty lines. “you guys got so far today! almost all of them are filled!” he loves how puffed up both of your chests get at the praise.

- He can almost tell how far down they were when they first started coloring. on the outside border the flowers are carefully patterned, but the ones just under where you where sitting are full of wilds scribbles. Yoongi reminds himself to take a picture before they wash it, wanting to save a memory of today.

- “Oh did you make this for us little ones? I bet Joonie’s going to love it you know how much he loves nature! and you even gave each of them little stems.”

- And of course, eventually they find the m/c and koo are asleep in their little puddle of markers. Maybe the m/c has a little bit of purple splotch on her cheek. After they wake them up to put them to bed she whines softly when they clean it off her cheek “oh you poor fussy baby, don’t worry it will only take a second” her cute pout demanding a kiss for every rub.

- Eventually she presses into bed and koo kisses the faintly red spot on her face. his kiss a little wet and open mouthed but so innocent it makes the caregivers bookending them on either side coo. it’s as much of a sorry as koo can articulate right now. his mind feels like marshmellows and stuffed animals, like a too squeezed juice pouch and an empty packet of fruit snacks. totally devoid of big scary thoughts.

- The caregivers are glad they made the decision to throw out all and every permanent marker in the house after the last little incident when Koo decided that people were a viable canvas. I think their whole house would be full of little doodles from the two littles. When they get big they always blush and say that they don’t need to pin them to every available surface. But the caregivers just shush them because they honestly love their drawings.

-To the caregivers, their collection of drawings is a representation of the love they have for their two youngest. A mark of a healthy relationship- that they can give love in a way that matters to the two of them. Maybe jimin gets a tattoo of one of their flowers, a little purple one for koo and a pink one for the m/c on his hip at once point.

- Maybe one day the m/c has what they affectionately call a ‘tiny day’ where she’s small and can’t seem to snap out of it. she tries valiantly, but after that catch her pouting down at her coffee and staring wistfully at her stuffy on the bed they tell her it’s okay. she can be small today and they’ll handle all of the big thoughts.

- Of course they can’t stay home because they have a track due soon, and alas they are adults, so certain things have to be accounted for. There have been many times that the m/c has had to pretend to be at least a little big in public, luckily for the caregivers their littles are always remarkably well behaved.

- They treat it as a game, today, bunny is a secret agent and cannot be discovered by anyone, sent to protect the princess. Nothing can happen to her as long as bunny’s there. But no one can see bunny- or else his powers are nullified. It does the trick. They love to see her nodd seriously when Tae weaves the story for her. it makes their heart hurt when they catch her talking to the bunny. “i gots you.” it makes it so hard to seperate from her for the day.

- Seokjin packs up a day bag and gets her in the comfiest clothes possible and she spends the whole day quietly coloring in the corner of Joonie’s studio with her favorite bunny stuffie in her lap. She’s always careful to tuck him under her blanket and hide him whenever someone comes knocking, pretending to tap away on Namjoon’s tablet, but luckily no one pays her much mind, used to her presence.

- When the noise and the stimulation gets too much for her namjoon puts her in a pair of noise canceling headphones that play soft nature sounds and pretty soon when he turns around to check on her he finds she’s nodded off in his couch. And he gets up to fix the blanket around her before he goes back to work for a few more hours.

- She’s still asleep when the others finish up and decide to pry joonie away from work (a feat in itself) and when the others softly knock at the door she gets up, all bleary-eyed and honestly half-asleep rubbing at her eyes with a closed fist. almost tripping in happiness when she sees jungkook. hitting into his chest with a little ooof, almost tripping to get out of her blanket. So excited to see him- her favorite playmate “Koo play now!? koo get tiny!!!??”

- Already the stress is weighing on Jungkook’s shoulders, his eyes getting all misty when he sees her bunny and the blanket and just wants to regress so bad. He starts to help her clean up the day bag but seokjin and Namjoon ease him away from it.

- “You’ve got to watch her for us Kookie, can you do that? can you be a good boy?” by now they know how to softly nudge Jungkook into his headspace and it does the trick, lets him have a task before he can truly let go. they end up giggling softly with their foreheads pressed up against each other, telling stupid little jokes that are no doubt from jin and playing with each others hands.

- On the ride Home, they both hold onto one of bunnies ears in the backseat of their car. Their heads loling by the time they pull into their safe underground parking garage ready for some snuggles and probably a nice relaxing bath for kookie because he hates feeling sweaty from practice when he’s little. He Just wants to sit and play with some bubbles and bath toys while someone runs shampoo through his hair, the soft-smelling kind that's meant for babies.

- Inevitably Koo always looks up from his bubble bath and points at himself and says “baby?” Hobi nods sagely while smoothing his hair into a goofy mohawk, “baby” he agrees.

- But that’s not exactly true- the better term would be ‘their babies’

~Fin~

Please reblog and comment! Likes are nice- but they do little to support content creators!

(You can find more little space content here)

#bts x reader #bts little space #bts age regression #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts comfort #little space #bts littlespace #bts #bts fanfic #bts au #bts poly au #jeon jungkook x reader #bangtan sonyeondan #sfw bts

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 3) - A Moment

Summary: Jensen is away from home for a few days but isn’t having the easiest time being away from the kids for the first time since the accident. When he returns home, he has a gala to attend on Saturday night but a kiss on the cheek and slip of the tongue will snowball into the reader and Jensen sharing a moment...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,100ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, death of a parent, anxiety, self-worth problems, referenced past harassment

A/N: I love this part so much for so many reasons. Please enjoy!

________

“Hi Jensen,” you asked Monday night when your phone rang. “How was your flight earlier?”

“Same old same old. I just got out of work,” he said with a yawn. “Gonna grab a bite out with a friend. Kids eat dinner okay?”

“We had honey sriracha glazed salmon with brussel sprouts and roasted red potatoes.”

“Really?”

“They had kraft mac and cheese and I had Taco Bell.”

“See this is why I like you,” he chuckled.

“I’ll try the salmon again tomorrow. I was gonna make it but they didn’t have any at the store,” you said, opening the fridge and taking out a pint of ice cream. “Hey can I have what’s left of this mint ice cream?”

“Sure. Pick some more up for me sometime before friday please,” he said. “Also, Taco Bell? You do realize we live in freaking Austin right. There are literally hundreds of places you can go that have better mexican food.”

“Yeah but fake cheese tastes good,” you said. He laughed and your stomach rumbled. “I so should have gotten more than two tacos.”

“You in the kitchen?” he asked. You hummed and you heard him let out an oof in the background.

“Yeah. You alright?”

“This bed in my hotel room is comfy,” he said. “But I was starting to say, go in the drawer at the end of the counter by the table. There’s only five hundred gajillion take out menus in there. Order a treat for yourself. It’s on me.”

“Jensen. I can get my own dinner.”

“True but you’re on call 24/7 until I get back.”

“Well in that case I bet you got a menu for a fancy steakhouse in here somewhere,” you teased as you picked up one for a tex mex looking restaurant. “Does this place really have quesadillas this big?”

“You must be looking at the menu on top. I almost ordered from there last week actually. The food’s great. They do delivery too. Just buzz the guy into the gate when they get there.”

“Any recommendations?” you asked, taking out the menu and flipping it over.

“Quesadillas are good. Loaded nachos are amazing. I’ve literally never had a bad thing from there,” he said. “To be honest I’d rather be getting that than where I’m going tonight.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, reading through your options, surprised to find such good prices.

“I have to wear a suit,” he said with a sigh. “After being poked and prodded all day I literally would rather just eat crap and watch food network.”

“How long have you known this friend of yours?” you asked.

“Twenty years, why?”

“Then you guys knew each other when you were young. It’s not too late out there. Call him, see if he’d rather get some crap food, a six pack and just catch up on his couch or in your room. I’m pretty sure he’s more looking forward to seeing an old friend again than the food,” you said.

“You make very good points. I should pay you more,” he said.

“You pay me plenty and barely let me spend a dime of my money on myself,” you said. “I don’t need more.”

“You got that fancy computer though.”

“You literally have the exact same mac in your office.”

“You moved in like three boxes and two computers,” he said.

“An ipad is not a computer,” you said.

“Debatable.”

“Well I like to draw sometimes and it’s easier on an ipad when you’re laying in bed,” you said.

“Are you any good?” he asked.

“No.”

“I bet they’re really good,” he said as you rolled your eyes. “I see you draw with the kids sometimes and those are good.”

“It’s a hobby is all,” you said, leaning back against the counter, your stomach grumbling again. “Anything else you want me to grab at the store? I’m going to hit it tomorrow while everyone’s at school.”

“Nah. Get the usual stuff,” he said. “The kiddos in bed?”

“Yeah, got the last one down about fifteen minutes ago,” you said. He hummed and you heard the sigh in it. “I got a video of them playing earlier I’ll send you.”

“Thanks. It’s my first night away from them in a long time. Normally I’m able to come back same day. I was kinda hoping they’d still be awake to say goodnight.”

“They’re safe and sound dad. We’ll call again after school tomorrow to talk like today,” you said.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He was quiet and you pulled the phone away, taking a deep breath.

“You okay?”

“I haven’t been alone like this in a really long time.”

“I know. You check out your backpack yet?”

“No. Why?”

“You didn’t bring a jacket with you so I put that yellow hoodie that’s always on the hook in there in case you got cold.”

“That was Dee’s hoodie.”

“I was pretty sure it was,” you said. You heard him shuffle around briefly before he hummed, much happier that time. “I thought you might like to have a piece of...something-”

“I really don’t pay you enough,” he said quietly. “Thanks for putting this in there. I need something from home more than I realized.”

“Well put it on, call up your buddy and have some fun tonight, Ackles. Nanny’s orders.” He laughed and you felt that twinge in your stomach again, your eyes quickly closing.

“I will. Hey you mind if I call again tomorrow night? I don’t have any plans and sitting in a hotel room by myself isn’t very fun.” You smiled and felt heat in your cheeks, quickly thinking it away. He wanted company for a few minutes was all and you were friends. It was completely normal to talk with friends on the phone everyday.

“Of course. As long as you get a dinner in at some point that’s more than fine with me,” you said. “We can talk about The Bachelor!”

“Oh God no,” he groaned, chuckling after a few seconds. “I’ll settle for Grey’s Anatomy.”

“This Is Us?” you asked.

“Supernatural?”

“I haven’t watched that yet. I’m working up to it,” you said.

“Work faster woman. I only know legit everything about that one,” he chuckled. “But probably not a good idea to watch that one until I get back and you're not alone. First episode is kinda scary.”

“Oh well thanks for that,” you said, watching the clock tick by, knowing it had to be almost seven out there. “I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight Jensen.”

“I will Y/N. Promise.”

Friday Night

“Arrow,” you said after she’d flung her pasta bowl all over herself, covering her hair and face. She sniffled and you forced a smile. “Okay. How about a bath after dinner?”

Fifteen minutes later JJ and Zeppelin were in the movie room watching a cartoon while you had Arrow in the kids bathroom, scooping up some water over her head in the tub.

“Well hello ladies,” you heard behind you. You jumped and spun around, glaring for a moment before you recognized Jensen.

“Just me,” he said, backpack still on his shoulders.

“Daddy I got ziti all over my head,” she said.

“You did?” he asked, dropping his bag and taking off his jacket, kneeling down next to you. You got the last bit of sauce off and squirted some shampoo in her hair, Jensen watching you with a smile. “How was your day?”

She told him all about breakfast and daycare, playing with a few toy boats with him while you rinsed out the soap. You did a bit of conditioner before getting it out as well and putting the spray nozzle back.

“I got the rest if you wanna get the dryer ready?” he asked you, reaching for the soap. You swapped spots with him, Jensen washing her up while she kept talking about her day. By the time he was all done you had the dryer out and plugged in, Jensen picking her up and wrapping her up in a big bundle of towels before he set her on the counter. You went to work drying her hair, Jensen draining the tub and finding some pajamas for her.

“Do you want your hair up or down, sweetie?” you asked. She tried gathering it up and you grabbed her soft scrunchie perfectly fine for sleeping in from the counter. You put her hair up in a soft little bun, Jensen making an adorable sound when he returned.

“Aw, you look so cute, baby. I’ll be right there alright?” he said. She hopped off the counter and got dressed, rushing off downstairs when she was all done. “Survive the day?”

“Somehow we always do,” you said, gathering up the towels. “Kids are in the movie room.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna shower but we’re all good for the night,” he said. “Thanks for watching them this week.”

“You gotta go do your job,” you said. “You working on a movie or something? You never said.”

“Uh gonna be in a show called The Boys,” he said. “I’m gonna be one of the superheroes so I gotta go out and get my suit made all special for me every so often.”

“You’re gonna be a supe! That’s so fucking cool!” you said. He grinned and you blushed, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so not appropriate.”

“I don’t see any little ears around,” he chuckled. “You like the show then?”

“Yeah. It’s great. Like no other show consistently makes me go what the fuck did I just see. That’s so cool you get to be a supe though. Are you a one off or like a main character?”

“I’ll be very present in the next season. Gonna deal with the seven, all that,” he said. “I’m gonna be Solider Boy.”

“I can see that. You have that all American boy thing about you.”

“It’s my adorable face,” he teased.

“Well remember to not stay up too late. You have the gala tomorrow night remember?”

“Yes mom,” he said as you walked out. “Get the kids some takeout for dinner tomorrow and yourself.”

“Sounds good boss,” you said. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The Next Night

You froze from where you were mixing up some brownie batter with JJ at the kitchen counter as Jensen popped downstairs. He was in a gorgeous black suit, a maroon pocket square and no tie going on, his hair scruffier looking than normal.

He started to laugh and you realized you were staring, your cheeks feeling hot as you went back to stirring.

“Mmm, you guys save me a brownie or two for when I get home?” he asked, leaning over and dipping his finger in the bowl of cream cheese frosting.

“We’ll spare one for dad,” you said, Jensen going back for seconds. “Ah, ah. No.”

He dipped his finger in and got another fingerful, kissing the top of JJ’s head and the twins at the counter.

“Be good for Y/N guys!” he called as he rushed out.

You whistled and he jogged back, catching you holding up his phone from the counter.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and pecking a kiss on your cheek. You looked up at him and he froze. “I am so sorry. I…”

“It’s okay. Go have fun and be all charitable,” you said. He shoved his phone in his pocket and ran out, JJ scratching her head.

“Dad’s kinda weird sometimes,” she said.

“Yeah, he is. But so is everybody,” you said. “Let’s get this in the oven so you guys can pick out colors for your frosting, hm?”

“I really shouldn’t. But I really should,” you said to yourself, plopping your second brownie of the night in a bowl and sticking a scoop of ice cream on top. You carried it over to the couch and lay back, watching TV on the big screen as you heard the door open. Jensen came into view a minute later, taking his jacket off and groaning as he washed up at the sink. He went to the tray of brownies on the counter and picked one up with a big sigh. “Fun night?”

He jumped and whacked his head against the cabinet above, hissing before he spun around.

“You okay?” you asked. He nodded and left the brownie behind, pushing his sleeves up before taking a seat on the other end of the lounger.

“Y/N I’m really sorry about the kiss on the cheek. That was so inappropriate. You’ve kinda implied that there was some stuff that’s happened to you at other jobs you found over the line and I’m really truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t...I forgot you’re my employee for a moment. I really am sorry.”

“Jensen if I had a problem with it or you or your behavior I would quit on the spot. I don’t let myself get pushed around anymore. You were happy and busy and you pecked a kiss on my cheek, not reach a hand down my pants. It’s really okay. You’re way too hard on yourself.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive. It’s barely ten which means you left as soon as you could. You’re supposed to be out having fun,” you said.

“I was kinda freaking out that you hated me,” he said.

“Dude you gotta relax,” you said. “Have a brownie and some ice cream.”

He got up and after a minute took a seat at the other end with a bowl of his own, smiling as he got a taste.

“This is fucking awesome,” he said.

“I know,” you said, Jensen smirking. “Do you feel better now silly boy? I promise that if you ever do anything I find inappropriate I will promptly kick you in the balls.”

“I can agree to that,” he said. He ate for a moment, watching the TV and laying back. “Do you ever like, want to go do things with your friends on a Saturday night? If you do that’s totally cool. These aren’t normal hours anyways.”

“Being a nanny eats up a lot of your social life,” you said. “Kinda got kicked out of my friend group after I broke up with my ex anyways.”

“Well they sound like they suck,” he said.

“Yes, they do,” you said. “I don’t mind so much. I meet plenty of new people through work. Only person you can depend on is yourself and I don’t tend to let myself down.”

“That’s a very lonely way to go through life,” he said.

“It’s not easy to make friends in your thirties,” you said. “Maybe for someone like you who travels and meets new people a lot and stuff but you have like, real friendships. You know?”

“Well we have a real friendship, don’t we? You’re friends with Jared and Rob and Ruthie and Rich,” he said. “I don’t trust just anybody with my kids. That’s real.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a bite. “So when’s your friend free?”

“Hm?”

“Blind date guy. Maybe he could be a friend if things work out,” you said.

“Oh yeah. He uh, he actually got a gig up in Canada so you might need to wait like a month or so. But he’s excited to meet you,” said Jensen.

“Can I have his number?” you asked. “Or do you think that’d be weird?”

“No, not weird. I think he just kinda wants to do it old school if that’s okay. Meet you first and go from there.”

“This friend of yours better be like super hot,” you said.

“If it’s a problem-“

“I can respect him wanting to do things like that. But I’m gonna want a firm date soon,” you said.

“I’ll make sure to get you one,” he said. “I’ll get it down tomorrow, promise.”

“He better not mind me eating like this either. I ain’t a salad on the first date kinda girl. He’s gonna need to keep up with my eating while were at it,” you said. He snorted in his seat beside you and ran his hand over his face.

“I will keep that in mind. I have occasionally had dessert first truth be told,” he said.

“This is why I like you Ackles. You get my sweet tooth,” you laughed.

“It’s a good thing your dinners are healthy cause I swear I haven’t consumed this many baked goods in months,” he said. “The kids love it and my stomach loves it though.”

“I’m gonna need to start working out though if I keep this up. Oh hey is it okay if I do laps in the pool in the mornings? I’ll be super quiet and stuff.”

“You don’t gotta ask,” he smiled. “Like I said when you started, you got free reign to use the pool, the gym, whatever, aside from my room. You a swimmer?”

“Not really but I hate running and supposedly it’s a good workout or something,” you shrugged, eating another bite of brownie.

“Anything in the gym you’re free to use. I know you must get a little bored sometimes when I’m gone and the kids are,” he said.

“Not bored per say. Ordinarily I would do more chores but you have like a cleaner and a landscaper and you just...give me more time in the day than I’m used to is all. It’s actually great though. It gives me plenty of time to come up with ideas for the kids and stuff.”

“Well as long as you’re taking breaks and your lunch do as you please,” he said, his spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl.

“Now that’s just sad.”

“I really should get another one of these,” he said, sucking the spoon.

“It’s really the only choice you have,” you said. He laughed as he hopped up, skirting back into the kitchen and fixing up another brownie and ice cream combo.

“Hey you want more, Dee?” he asked. You popped your head up and he spun around. “I’m-“

“Don't apologize, Jensen,” you said. He tapped his fingers against the counter and took a deep breath, putting his back to you.

“That’s the second time tonight I’ve done that,” he said.

“Jensen. There’s nothing wrong with missing your wife.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“You don’t...talk about her much.”

“It was...she wasn’t…” he trailed off. He sat down on a barstool and you got up, walking over and hopping up on the counter beside him. You set your feet in the stool next to his and paused before you put a hand on top of his head and ran your fingers through the short strands. “This shouldn’t have happened to her.”

“Death is the price for living. Pain’s the price for caring. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” you said. You started to move your hand away when he turned his head.

“Don’t…” he said, easing when you played with it gently again. “That’s always calmed me down since I was a little kid.”

“Someone should take care of you every once in a while you know. Your parents, siblings, friends. Everyone needs a break.”

“I had a lot of help at the beginning. I don’t need a whole day. Just a moment here and there,” he said quietly.

“It’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. He nodded and you played with his hair a few moments, watching his shoulders ease. This time when you pulled away he smiled up at you. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you. That’s not in your job description to do that sort of thing.”

“Well I think your wife would want somebody to watch your back, even for only a minute or two,” you said.

“You don’t have any brain aneurysms I should know about, do you?” he chuckled.

“No. That what happened?” you asked, a single nod coming from him.

“She was sleeping. Not a bad way to go I was told, you’d never even know,” he said. “Not a fun thing to wake up to in the morning though.”

“My dad had a mass at the back of his head. It was that same kind of thing where one second it’s fine and the next everything’s different deal. It was inoperable. Then he goes and dies from a car accident of all things before it got bad. My mom had a hard time with that.”

“You said she had a boyfriend later on right?” he asked.

“Yeah. I know you’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. You ruffled his hair and he smiled, a soft look on his face. “Pro tip too from someone who’s been there, kids with a single parent turn out just fine.”

“Do they ever wish they had another parent?” he asked.

“They wish the parent they still have around is happy again someday. They won’t understand until they’re older that it’s a different kind of love between parents. But they’ll know it’s a little different and they’ll hope dad feels better too. Your kids are tough. They’ll be okay too.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. You hopped off the counter and washed up your dish, sticking it in the dishwasher before you went to leave for your room. “So I gotta ask. Who takes care of you?”

“Me?” you asked, pointing to yourself. He shrugged and smiled, your gaze going past him. “I’m all good. I don’t need somebody to take care of me.”

“Liar,” he said softly. “You know my friend tells me everybody needs to be taken care of sometimes.”

“That’s the difference between us Jensen. You’re not like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, his face scrunching up suddenly.

“It means you’re not on your own and even if you feel like it, it’s only been a little while. You’ll be okay. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a kid. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“You haven’t lived my life and I haven’t lived yours. Don’t try to tell me that I’m not capable of-”

“It’s not about what you’re capable of. You said pain is part of life, it’s the price for living. You’ve had more than your fair share-”

“Lots of people have it a lot worse.”

“Don’t compare your pain to someone else's. They haven’t lived your life,” he said. You rolled your eyes and started to walk away, Jensen out of his seat and catching up with you in the hall. “You can be taken care of too you know.”

“By who? My non-existent circle of friends? My crappy ex? My mom’s ex boyfriend who’s got his own wife and kids? I am perfectly fine managing all of this by myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“You’re so frustratingly annoying,” he said, running his hand over his face. “Me. I’m talking about me. You just...you took care of me tonight. The least I can do is show you the same compassion.”

“No,” you said.

“No? Why not?”

“Because taking care of me turns into you walking into my shower without my permission and you being a dick and this going away and I don’t want you to be those things so no. We’re getting too friendly. Please leave me alone tomorrow.”

You left him in the hall and went down to your area of the house, shutting the door after you. There was quickly a knock and you growled, ripping it open.

“What?” you snapped at him.

“I am not going to hurt you or be a dick to you or whatever else you think. You need to realize in the real world, not everyone is an asshole.”

“You’re the one not living in the real world then, Jensen. Everybody’s an asshole.”

“Fine. I’m an asshole. But I’m not leaving until you say I can take care of you tomorrow. Two minutes is all I’m asking for.”

“This is my part of the house.”

“And technically I am outside your door,” he said. “Why are you so resistant to somebody doing something nice for you?”

“Because I don’t wanna get used to it,” you said. He stared and you shook your head. “You’re attractive and an actor and kind and funny and it’s not a matter of if you date again but when and when that day comes, we ain’t gonna be sitting on the couch eating ice cream anymore. Please do not invite me to anymore outings as a friend. I’ll attend if required as a nanny but this between us is done.”

“For the record, the only one around here that thinks of you as just the hired help is you. My children are completely like their old selves. I feel more like my old self. You seem happier than when I met you but for some reason, that’s a big problem to you. I do not understand that.”

“Leave or I resign and move out first thing,” you said. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “This is my formal resignation then. The company will-”

He moved quickly and you weren’t sure what he was doing at first but soon you realized he was hugging you, your hands resting against his chest. You swallowed and he didn’t move, your forehead resting against him.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.

“When’s the last time you got a fucking hug?” he asked.

“The kids-”

“Not the kids.”

“I don’t remember,” you said quietly.

“Then you are overdue,” he said. You let yourself reach your arms around him and return the hug, breathing deeply, a small bubble in you rising up. You tried to push it down but it came back harder and you were fighting back tears before you knew it.

He could feel when you lost that battle, hand rubbing up and down your back. There was a soft shushing in the air and after a few minutes you felt better. You lifted your head but didn’t look at him, Jensen squeezing you in his hug again before it eased.

“You know you’re not allowed to quit on me...like ever,” he chuckled. You let out a small laugh, Jensen smiling at you when you forced your head up. He wiped off your cheeks and you let out one last sniffle. “You’re not alone. I promise you’re not. It’s not the quantity of people you have in your life but the quality and I’m sorry but we are friends and there’s nothing you can do about that so I’d just accept it now.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

“You were scared, not a bitch,” he said. “I wish I could make you happier is all.”

“I wish I could bring back your wife for you,” you said.

“One of those is a lot more possible than the other,” he said. A small smile crossed his lips before he ducked his head down, shoulders heaving back before his head raised. “Y/N, can I confess something to you? I hope...I hope it doesn’t bother you but if it does, you don’t have to continue working for me. I’d still like to be friends regardless.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, Jensen looking past you.

“My single friend I was going to set you up with? He doesn’t exist.”

“Oh.”

“Cause he’s kinda me.”

“Oh,” you said, staring at him, a lot of his previous behavior starting to click into place. “That’s…”

“I know,” he said, stepping away and rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s weird and douchey and I’m sorry. I like you and I was trying to see if you would ever go for a 42 year old actor. I left out the widow and kids part but...I’m sorry.”

“When did you like me?” you asked quietly.

“The whole time?” he said, laughing nervously to himself. “It’s kinda snowballed since we met. I never in my life thought I’d like someone again. I didn’t want to like you. I hired you because you were the best candidate and I knew the kids would be in good hands but everyday it’s there, even more, and I know this is so inappropriate on so many levels and I’m really starting to ramble here but you make me think maybe your mom had a point and people are allowed to have...more than one…and sometimes the way you talk to me and treat me and look at me...”

He swallowed as you stepped in front of him, taking a quick breath.

“I will keep working for you and I’ll be your friend...and you can make me dinner tomorrow,” you said with a smile. “We’ll see where it goes from there?”

“You’re not...weirded out?” he asked.

“By your age, you’re my boss or the cheeky lying about a fake friend?” you said.

“All of the above.”

“Age doesn’t bother me. You have no idea how to be a boss, no offense, and the friend...I don’t blame you for wanting to test the waters first,” you said. “But I expect honesty from here on out.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Good,” you said.

“You do like me right?” he asked. “Like you don’t feel obligated or-”

“I like you Jensen. Why do you think I was trying to push you away before you got too close? I didn’t want to be hurt.”

“Give me a chance to not,” he said. “We can have dinner and see how it goes from there.”

“Normally the best course of action,” you said.

“But maybe with a few more hugs from now on,” he said. “For the both of us.”

“That’d be okay with me,” you said. He smiled and you returned it. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“I guess you will,” he said. He turned to go when he spun back on his heels. “Or we could go back out there, eat way too much dessert and hang out?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Give me a minute to wash up my face.”

“Take all the time you want. I’m gonna change into something more comfortable anyways.”

He left and you washed off your face in the bathroom, drying it off and taking a deep breath.

You did like him. There was something calming about him to you and you enjoyed his company, even if it was just the two of you having a quiet cup of coffee in the morning.

But he was an actor. And kinda famous. And a widow. And had three kids.

“But your face is cute,” you said aloud, looking the mirror. “Gah, of course you have to be like...into me. Nutjob. He must be a nutjob. That’s it.”

“Y/N?” you heard him saying and you smacked yourself in the face. “Are you talking to yourself?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, stepping out and seeing him in the hall sporting a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt. “That was fast.”

“Well I didn’t go through an eight step skin routine too,” he chuckled.

“For your information, my routine is only three steps,” you said, walking past him and waggling your fingers.

“I didn’t realize I was living with such a savage,” he said. You laughed and went back to the kitchen, making up another dish of brownie for him while he went over to where he kept his liquor. “You a bourbon kind of girl?”

“Is there any other kind?” you said.

“Touche.” He poured out two glasses and slid one over while you passed his bowl to him. “So what’s this three step routine? Do I need to up my game or what?”

“I think I need your routine, not the other way around,” you said.

“Nah. I like looking at your face more than mine. Trust me.”

“Oh. How long you been holding back those kinds of comments?” you teased.

“Longer than you’d think,” he said, sharing the bowl with you. “Feel okay now?”

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I cried,” you said. “Especially in front of someone.”

“A good cry session has never hurt in my experience. I’ll do it for work and stuff but normally I’m not much of one. Aside from the past six months I mean.”

“Are you ready to try this?” you asked.

“Yeah. I know I am,” he said. “I’m positive of it.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you make me happy. You make me...want to do stuff again, believe in all the romantic...if I wasn’t ready, I’d feel guilty. But I don’t. I just know that maybe some people get more than one chance and maybe I’m one of them.”

“I know you are, whoever it ends up being,” you said.

“Are you ready to try this?”

You took a drink and bite of ice cream, pushing the bowl back.

“I miss my family,” you said. “I miss being happy. I’d like to...have someone that could take care of me for a moment every once in a while. I might mess that up sometimes but I’m willing to try.”

“Me too,” he said. “I’d expect some screw ups on this end too. I’ve been out of the dating game for a long time.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t changed all that much,” you said.

“Well I’ve never dated with kids and as a widow,” he said.

“I’m just in this for them to be honest,” you laughed.

“I see how it is,” he said with a smirk.

“I don’t think it’ll be as hard as you think,” you said.

“I hope not,” he said.

“Do they know? You want to date?”

“JJ does,” he said. “She’s little but she understands that it doesn’t mean I’ll never love her mother any less. She’s been strangely okay through this whole thing aside from the first few weeks. She helps her brother and sister out more now.”

“As someone who was that kid, minus the siblings, I know they’ll be okay. She’s a great kid. I’ve met plenty of spoiled brats. Yours are not.”

“Well that might just be the second best thing I’ve heard tonight,” he said.

“Whatever was the first?” you teased, eating a spoon of ice cream.

“Oh I think you know,” he said, stealing the spoon back. You smiled and heard some feet run around upstairs before the stairs creeped and a little head ducked down into view. “Arrow. It’s bedtime sweetie.”

“I had a accident,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, honey,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Want help?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said. He scooped up Arrow on the way up the stairs, setting her down in the kids bathroom. He got some clean pajamas and you found a pair of pull ups, Arrow pouting at you.

“I don’t need ‘em,” she said.

“Your brother wears them. I wore them and your mommy and daddy wore them. Everybody wears pull ups when they’re your age,” you said.

“Just tonight,” she said, stepping into them. Jensen walked past with the mattress liner and she was dressed by the time you heard the washer going off in the distance. You walked her back to bed, Jensen slipping in past you and tucking her in. “Night daddy.”

“Night sweetie,” he said, kissing her temple.

“Night Y/N,” she said.

“Night night kiddo,” you said, giving her a tiny wave before you left, Jensen flipping off her light and pulling the door shut.

“Come here a second,” he said, nodding and you saw him head towards his room. The double doors were open and you stepped inside, Jensen going past the bed and over to a set of french doors. He pushed one open and waved for you to follow, showing you out to a rooftop balcony.

“Wow,” you said, a set of chairs, a table and a lounger out there along with a whole lot soft string lights. “I didn’t realize you had this up here.”

“Kinda a place to go unwind, relax,” he said. “I disappear out here sometimes. Been out here a lot at night lately.”

“Thinking about what?” you asked.

“You,” he said. “I talk to Dee about you sometimes as crazy as that sounds.”

“Doesn’t sound crazy at all,” you said.

“I just wanted to say...this area isn’t off limits anymore. Nothing is,” he said.

“She asked you out, didn’t she,” you said with a smile. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “You’re cute.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, heading back towards inside.

“Come on, Jensen. Before the ice cream melts on us.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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