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nevada-wrytes · 1 year

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Chapter 3 - When the Ocean Starts Retreating (And You Don't Run Away)

Content warnings: Underage drinking, alcohol, kissing

Here's the link to the previous chapter and here's the link to the next one!

Birds of a feather flock together- or however the saying goes- was entirely based on falsehoods. Raven could name many birds that would like to never see his face again— and it’s not like he didn’t mirror the same sentiment.

“What do you think of this dress?” Dahlia held out a thrifted nightgown with all the toppings: ruffles and lace and buttons where they do not need to be.

Raven, from where he was belly-flopped over a cushiony ottoman, craned his neck to look. You’d look like a pearl. “It’s too cold,” he huffed, collapsing limply back to his default pose.

“Well obviously I’d layer! But anyways, do you think this would match my Docs better than the green maxi dress..”

Raven turned off the part of him that could process speech. His mind felt stuffy after so long at the he-should-really-stop-calling-this-a-pep-rally-funeral. Not to mention his stomach was rumbling. Damn, when was the last time he ate?

Dahlia, having sensed his unwillingness to be of any fashion help, had gone to pester her siblings for advice, which left him the rest of the room to mope around.

He got up from the low ottoman with an intake of breath and a good stretch, enough to hear his spine snap and pop pleasantly. Then he gleefully jumped on to Dahlia’s bed and burrowed into the thick duvet and blankets. They still smelled like her, and for once he allowed himself to devour- taking deep, greedy breaths.

Once he had assembled himself a little nest, he poked his head out and almost knocked over a framed photo on the nightstand. He caught it with his fast reflexes (not bragging or anything) and gingerly set it back.

Something about the photo caught his attention. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before, or like it was revolutionary photography skills- it was just a selfie of Dahlia in between an older frowning man with a bushy mustache and a tiny woman. He’d seen her parents before (kind of had to as her would-be sort of boyfriend) but- this time it felt different.

The people in the photo seemed so- genuine. Nice. They seem like the kind of family who would be upset if something happened to their own.

Raven thought about his own family. He hadn’t seen them in a while- did he miss them? Would they be upset if something happened to him- wait- no, what was he thinking?

Raven got up and shook those thoughts away as if he was putting a giant cotton swab in his brain and swishing it around.

“Raveeeen~” Dahlia’s voice floated through the hallway. She was already fully dressed in a cute outfit and braids that made her look like a Studio Ghibli character. She slung a tote bag over her arm. “Ready to go?”

Raven gave her his best bright smile. “Yup!”

He took her by the arm and together they walked out.

“I like your hair, did Aspen braid it?

“Yeah! He said two braids would look the best.”

“It frames your face nicely. I want to grow my hair out so I can braid it too..”

There was no keg-standing at the party— and for that, Raven was immensely disappointed. He wanted to have a true American highschool experience. Dahlia told him he should’ve gone to a frat house rather than a quaint New England town.

Besides that, the party seemed alright. Some rich kid was hosting it at his ski lodge— which was just a revamped log cabin in the middle of the woods equipped with a tennis court and swimming pool. Oh, and a jacuzzi— although it was unfortunately being occupied by couples who forgot social distancing was a thing. They did not seem in a hurry— Raven was never getting a turn in that hot tub.

Dahlia steered him away. “Oh, I think I see my friend’s over there- I’m gonna go say hi-” She let go of his arm to wave, “-hey! Girlies!”

Raven felt a fond smile grow on his face as he watched her run off. He mosied on back to a snacks table— someone had put a framed photo of the dead girl from the funeral next to the red solo cups. What a harsh reminder of what they were all supposed to be doing there.

He took a cup, weighed the pros and cons of drinking tonight, and then deemed that all irrelevant. In went two full ladles of whatever hard liquor x everything else in your pantry concoction something had made. He was pretty sure he saw a gummy worm bobbing in his cup. It tasted like burnt sugar going down, but brought back a pleasant warmth in his fingers.

Idly, he milled over to the dance floor. Someone had hung up fairy lights and lanterns around the patio, and with the canopy of trees in the background, it almost looked like the fortune teller’s tent.

He was sick of those stupid fairy lights.

Before he could leave, Raven felt rather than saw the stranger come up to him. His body stiffened on its own accord, but he willed himself to chill.

"Hey." Raven turned around, all nonchalant, and his eyes widened.

The stranger— an absolute Beast of a man— was taller than him (and he was almost six foot) and had an impressive amount of piercings dotting his face. Dark shaggy hair fell into his eyes from his wolf cut. He wore jeans so ripped you could practically see his thighs- and so many chains- he must have spent years harvesting them from prisoners. It was agonizing looking at him— how could someone be cooler than Raven, the coolest guy ever??

"I like your shirt." He had a deep, smooth voice, too. He didn't fail to notice Raven's staring, in fact, the corner of his mouth curved upwards around his lip piercing. Raven felt his face grow hot. Any self-respect he had sank to the floor.

"My- my shirt?" He looked down to see what he was wearing. It was an old rock band t-shirt from a group long disbanded. "Oh- er- thank you?"

"It's vintage, right? Which thrift store did ya get it at? I work at one, you know, so if you ever wanted a discount-"

"What? Oh, no, I got this shirt while they were on tour."

"What?"

He spotted Dahlia in the crowd by herself. "'Scuse me-"

Raven surprised her from behind with a hug, "Guess who!"

Dahlia jumped, nearly spilling her drink. "Raven!" She settled back in his arms. He smiled and began to sway to the beat of the music. Dahlia said nothing.

Raven cursed himself for how awkward his next words were going to be. "Hey- ugh, what's wrong?"

Dahlia hummed. "It's nothing. My friends were just saying some mean shit about the girl who died. I mean- I didn't really care about her either but- it's not nice to spread rumors when she's gone and all that-" Dahlia turned to face him, "Raven, if something happened to me, would you be upset?"

"I- What?"

The music stopped. "Hey, hey, hey, party people!" Someone had commandeered the mic from the karaoke machine, "This is your host, Ronnie speaking! I know some of you've been rumbling about bad weather- but don't worry, Ron's got you all covered. If this place goes south we still have the whole basement- and there's a pool table!- So don't fret, just enjoy the music, alcohol, and party as if we're gonna die tomorrow!!" He chuckled. "I mean you never know, one of us could be next!" His eyes shot directly to Raven.

The music continued shortly after, seemingly no one had heard the last part of Ronnie's speech. Raven looked back at Dahlia but she wasn't there. Panic surged through him.

"Dahlia?" He looked over the heads on the dance floor but couldn't see the familiar brown locks.

"Dahlia?" He found a group of girls huddled by the drinks table, but they shot him a weird look.

"Dahlia?" His voice was a whisper. He had somehow made it to the edge of the backyard, right by the woods.

The overcast sky was pitch black at this hour, so the forest seemed even darker than usual. A cool wind rustled the dry branches. As he looked up, he saw dozens of beady eyes staring at him.

"Raven?" He willed himself to turn around. Dahlia stood on the last step of the deck, two drinks in her hands.

"What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't find you."

"I just went to get some drinks. Come on, these are hot."

ˇˇ

They found a quiet corner away from the noise of the central party. Raven cupped a steamy drink in his hand. He took a sip and was delighted to find out it tasted exactly like Autumn. And cinnamon.

"What is this?"

"Cider. There's alcohol in it too, so it'll warm you right up."

"Hmp. Nice."

They quietly drank. Dahlia was first to speak up.

"Do you want to go home?"

Raven took a second to answer. "I don't want to leave you here alone."

"I'd go with you."

"What? But you were the one who wanted to come here."

Dahlia shrugged. "Yeah, and now I'm here. I had a fun time, it's probably late, I wouldn't mind leaving. Besides-" She got closer, "I don't want to force you to do anything you're uncomfy with.

She was staring right at him. Raven felt lost in her large eyes. He swallowed and set down his drink. "You didn't force me- I don't do anything I don't want to do regardless-"

"Hmp." Dahlia smiled. She was getting really close. Her breath smelled like alcohol and fruit.

"So this is okay?" Her lips were right next to his ear. His face went red- and he wasn't sure if it was just from the alcohol or not.

"Yes, yes it's fine."

"And this?" She kissed his neck, right underneath his jaw.

"MHM! YUP!" He shut his eyes. Let her pull him close. Found where his hands slot around her waist. Where his lips fit around hers. Where their breaths merged into one.

It was drunken revelry at its finest. One last hoorah.

Tag list: (ask to be added/removed) @thebonecarver @victorfrankingstein @confused-as-all-hell @iambecomeyourvillain @brekkercookie @fallen-from-olympus @purpl-cryptid @reyyya @thecurlychameleon @naz-yalensky @thesexypanda-boo @kazoo-the-demjin @twelve-kinds-of-trouble @robbiinn

#nevada writes #raven nv #this chapter is entirely fan service for me btw. the calm before the storm #also for those who don't understand the reference in the title: it's a tsunami warning #if the water starts disappearing really fast all the way to the horizon. run.

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holly-fixation · 2 years

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Angelic Aid: Chapter 4

Summary of this chapter: The Prince of Jenova finally showed his skills both in training and in battle, the last retaliation the Cetra can give. If it fails, the planet and their race are doomed. The Princess tries to understand the prince better, by learning the history of his planet. Maybe then he will be willing to spend 'time' with her, the deal Jenova made with the Cetra upon exchange of her warrior: her son.

Inspired by this art by @tannarys on twitter and follow up art that is absolutely adorable

Please Enjoy!

Chapter 4: War Room and War

Sephiroth woke up groggy the next morning, the pillow somewhere on the floor, his hair an absolute bird’s nest, his shirt and pants untidy, and his skin temporarily conforming to the pattern of the fabric below with soft lines imprinted on his skin, yet somehow the covers below didn’t take any damage. He forced himself to shake off the lingering thoughts of the previous night as he pressured a hand through his currently knotty hair, tearing some of the strands free of their knots. Tonight was the night, his first attack of three, and he honestly could not wait for the chance to do what he did best. It didn’t matter how many or few he killed. A massacre was not necessary. He enjoyed battle as a place to test his skills, each bout of training pushing him further for the next conquest. That’s how angels prepared. That’s what his mother taught him.

He winced as he slammed away the memory that threatened to enter. There’d be time for that later, when he returned to his comet. His home. There was no reason for any of the emotions he felt on this planet. It was a conquest, nothing more. He was a weapon, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The sky was even darker than when the princess woke him in the middle of the night, he noticed through a window in the hallway. The small, quiet hour before dawn broke and the light of the sun bathed the city blanketed the streets. It was absolutely earlier than most of the inhabitants of this planet roused, judging by the nearly silent atmosphere outside the small window. Not a single Cetra appeared on the streets, only the occasional cat running around for a final catch of the day, or night.

Then there was a crash from the floor below, metallic but not sword like. He closed his eyes and exhaled in frustration, an annoyed feeling that whatever caused that sound wasn’t a threat. The same way it wasn’t last night. Before any more disturbances hit, he pushed himself out of the bed, slipped on his coat, boots, and sword, and left for the kitchen.

Maybe once he wanted to be wrong. Yet when he entered the kitchen, he proved his assumption correct.

It was a nightmare. Dishes, utensils, towels, some kind of white shells, everything was everywhere and nothing was where it was supposed to be, all surrounding the center of the storm: the princess in her pink dress, who tried to clean something black and smokey off the side of their stove. Although he entered with cat-like silence, she somehow noticed him and looked up with wide eyes, surprised, excited, and clearly fearful of the possibility of getting caught.

“Prince Sephiroth!” She lit up with the kindest smile that one cringing at their own mistake could make, slightly shying away as she offered a plate with a perfectly yellow meal. “I made you eggs?” Her words curled up from a statement to a question at her own embarrassment and the expected negating of her offer.

He could not explain how thankful he was for the battle today, if only to get some space from this clingy little girl.

* * *

From dawn to noon, Sephiroth spent his time both assessing and training the most viable of the Cetra sword fighters, which struck him as the biggest oxymoron. They clearly desired to learn, for the sake of themselves and their people, but only a fool would put them out into battle. Even the most talented soldier struggled to reach the peaks of the basic techniques. Their greatest downfall: they didn’t think like sword fighters. They thought like mages. Mages he could work with, sure, they know how to attack, but of the five he was tasked with training, two of them thought like healers: how far back in the battle could they stay while protecting others, how much space could they keep between them and their enemy, could they persuade them from afar.

None of this would do.

Every hour covered two tasks simultaneously: running through basics like proper footing and slashing techniques, and that their weapons were extensions of themselves. No healer understood the importance of their staff the way a swordsman attached their soul to their blade. Only the simplest thought pierced them today: if their blade fell, they died. Guaranteed. Even though it was the simplest lesson, they needed it more than anything. The only solace in this week off his world was their skill in magic. Each soldier understood the importance of separating offensive and defensive materia, all but one offensive limited to the blade, while the few that decorated armor included barriers, healing, and the last case scenario of sealing.

Still, he gladly took training these infants in combat over his mother’s punishment of ‘time’ with these people. Hopefully the hours he spent training them counted as his half of teaching these people his ways. Now it was back to their small war room to inform each other of the resources gained for the battle tonight.

The same people stood at the edge of the map: Claudia Strife, Reeve Tuesti in that odd cat-like machine, the Captain, their queen, and unfortunately their tiny princess. At first, his own presence there felt unnecessary, as they talked about supplies of ethers and potions for the people and the army, ration preparations, et cetera. More and more updates and plans for situations that did not concern him in the slightest.

“Prince Sephiroth,” the queen called, gaining his attention immediately. “Let’s discuss the plan for tonight.”

He nodded before addressing the table. “What’re the latest updates?”

“I got a friend to lend us his boat,” Claudia explained simply, before scrunching her face. “A small one. Not a lot of fuel either, but it should be enough to reach Junon’s shores and back.”

“That’s more than enough. Your healers will not stay anywhere near me at the battle,” Sephiroth stated simply. “If you move the boat here,” he pointed to the map, miles west of Junon, “It will convince them I came from the west, and not the north. They might delay their next attempt north to search for me.”

The Captain seemed to hold his tongue before adjusting his thoughts. “What…advantage does leaving you out to dry give us?”

Throughout the day, the Captain finally accepted the truth of his skills and knowledge. He welcomed that. “I can fly a minimum of twenty miles. Even when injured.” His eyes darted to the map and he pointed to a location a bit off from the battle, but invisible to the people in the port town. “It’s north, so it’s closer to here. It will keep your people out of the line of fire without negating their purpose completely.”

“How injured should they expect you?” The blonde woman asked.

He turned to her, before glancing at the captain. “Anywhere from nothing to three broken limbs. Maximum. That depends on their fire power.”

“Which sadly, we can't prepare for thanks to their mechs’ auto self-destruct at high damage.” The Captain mentioned with a disappointed hand on his forehead, frustrated at their own lack of ability to properly train for the threat.

“It scares me how large of a window you may take,” Claudia mentioned, eyeing the angel curiously.

“I’m only preparing you for the worst case scenario.” He met her worried blue gaze. “But from what I know of your planet, they can only break a single bone of mine with a miracle.”

“You seem extremely confident,” came the voice out of the mog suit, suspicion growing on the creature’s face.

He stared at it blankly, shoulders and arms dropping. How many times did they need him to explain his strength? “I could claim your planet on my own.” The gravity of the threat shuttered through everyone’s eyes except his own. This was not a threat. It was simply a reminder of their situation. “The largest disadvantage here is keeping people alive. Burning the base down is a lot faster and a lot easier.” His eyes hardened, the creature barely listening to his words. “The more I keep alive, the larger chance someone will stab me in the back. That’s the only reason I’m preparing for injury.”

“Your Majesty,” this time Reeve turned to the Cetra Queen, a clear new goal in his words. “I must ask, how did your people gain power over Jenova?”

Sephiroth stared daggers at the hologram, at the audacity for the accusation alone.

“We never have,” Ifalna stated simply, truthfully, allowing the angel to loosen his glare, before looking down at the map and circling the north. “This crater is proof of that.”

“The Cetra developed summoning materia they did not understand, with the goal of summoning one of your ‘gods’.” The prince explained sharply, knowing that giving the tale would silence the spy’s questioning. “When my mother appeared instead, she brought a meteor to claim this planet in retaliation. But, Her meteor, was too large. Its size was a mistake, capable of total annihilation instead of mass extinction. However, Cetra barrier spells prevented incurable damage. She was impressed by the feat, and made a deal with your people to use us as summons in dire situations. But when your materia breaks, we will claim this planet.”

The spy swallowed, even though it was only a machine controlled by a human, mimicking its user’s behavior. “...Then,” He hesitated, “did your people actually find this planet?”

He scowled at the lack of knowledge clearly portrayed before him and glanced at the queen out of the corner of his eyes. “Did you explain anything to them?”

She bit her tongue against the display of teenage attitude and took a short answer before she answered, “Prince Sephiroth, I explained the benefits and the risks of requesting help from your mother. Our entire history was not important for this decision.”

His turned sigh clearly hid a groan.

“I know the story,” the princess’s voice rang lightly, like a tiny bell. She may have thought her interruption was a request, the rest of the war room clearly believed so, but the prince only saw a challenge. This little girl, who couldn’t say his mother’s name in her presence, suddenly knew enough to quell a war room.

Though every eye on her jabbed for silence and obedience in the young girl, Sephiroth burned his challenge in his inhuman eyes, his cat-like slits captivating her attention, giving her the slightest taste of what she felt when they first summoned him. He gave her the opportunity to share the information she claimed to have. “Enlighten us.” Not a hint of sarcasm bled through his words, for he had none to give. What was this girl truly good for? How much ‘time’?

“After Queen Jenova returned to her comet, we changed part of the white materia to not only protect the planet, but send an angel back by force if they attacked too much,” The little girl explained, folding her hands behind her back and shifting awkwardly from side to side. “Not long after, her planet-comet, also called Jenova, but spelled with dashes between the letters for some reason, flew across the sky at night. Only once, but she saw us. She knows exactly where we are, and how to move the comet to get here if needed.”

Sephiroth, though surprised, found himself nodding in confirmation at her words. However, to his frustration, the human questions only increased.

“Hold on a minute,” The blonde woman held a hand up in wait with a confused daze on her face, the crater still on her mind. “Your mother is over two thousand years old?”

The prince and princess nodded again before he answered. “We do not age the same as your people. After twenty years, our appearances barely change with time. You may think it odd, but I assure you, it’s expected.”

“Is she the oldest on your planet?”

“Yes, but that is not why she still rules,” Aerith explained. “She’s still the strongest. And even when she wasn’t, she won anyway.”

Sephiroth closed his eyes in silent annoyance. This absolutely is not how you prepare for an attack. He hated this treatment as a walking history lesson. If this princess knew, then they all clearly had access to whatever answers they wanted if they would just pick up a book. Apparently, this annoyed look on his face silenced their historical questions for now. They returned to topics or sections of failed battle and future preparation that did not concern him, so he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the room, away from the map.

* * *

He hated those meetings, at no fault of their own. The few details that mattered to him could easily be sent on a single piece of paper, or a single message. He sighed in relief at the final dismissal. The last detail that mattered to him, and the only one after their unnecessary exposition, was the location of their vessel for departure: through the woods and past the village of archeology, which they had to avoid any kind of contact with the human residents before reaching the shore. Stealth mission. Understandable, simple, inconvenient but doable nonetheless. Still, he preferred the slightly organized war meetings over dealing with the little girl that ran towards him a minute after dismissal.

Why couldn’t he have a single moment to himself on this planet?

“Prince Sephiroth, wait!” Despite his movement slowing down, the princess still jogged after him, and eventually she kept up with his adjusted pace. “I have a quick question.”

He nearly groaned, turning to her with small contempt. “I’m not-”

“It’s not about your history,” She explained quickly, and he let out a soft sigh. “It’s about your allure.”

Allure? Why would that interest her? He never voiced the question, but his eyes reflected his curiosity. He figured she’d ask about his power, or speed, or something meaningless, or for his damn wing again.

“Why doesn’t it work?” She tilted her head.

He glared, answering after a pause, “It does work.”

“It does?”

“Yes,” He spat. “Why wouldn’t it?”

Aerith glanced away. “Well…” Her hands twitched from her own unfounded anxiety, “When we first met, it was so strong I could barely talk. But then I didn’t feel it until the meeting. Do you have to activate it?” Now her planet-green eyes met his.

He took a breath. “You felt my mother’s allure when we first met. I don’t project mine constantly.” It was true. He enjoyed the fight rather than diplomacy, but he quickly realized he gave the wrong description to the young girl. “Well,” He crunched the corner of his lip in thought, “consciously. We all have it to some level. I see it with some of the animals here, but not your people.”

“Does it feel weird when you project it?”

Why was she like this? He answered her first question, so why wasn’t this over? He grunted. “No. But I have to actively think about it. I’d rather use my energy elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“Battle. So I don’t get killed.”

“But you’re super strong?”

“And how do you think I got this strong?”

She thought for a moment, a hand on her chin before it came to her. “Not dying?”

“Not dying.”

“Ah,” She nodded in understanding, but she still wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “Where are you going now?”

He flicked his head in gesture. “That mountain. To judge the terrain from here to the shore.”

“It’s just a lot of forest. Lots of trees. It'll be really hard to see the path.”

“It can’t hurt,” he brushed her off before glancing in her direction. “Where are you supposed to be?”

“Mama said I should stay with you until dinner time,” She stated simply, innocently, tugging softly at her own dress. “So I thought I’d ask a few questions…”

“Aerith,” He stared at her, not completely lying with his answer. He was just…tired. “I’m fighting. Tonight. I need to think.”

She pursed her lips, but nodded before meeting his eyes. Then she looked down, away from the strength of his gaze. “I can be quiet, if that helps…” She sounded heartbroken.

He felt a slight ting at her tone and sighed softly. “...Just for an hour, okay?”

Aerith nodded again, but she stayed by his side until the accursed time arrived, through the mountain and the last minute training of soldiers. She remained through the final meal before the battle. The step off to the mission. Their kind’s last and only chance to advance against humanity. Humanity did not need to die. They only needed to understand the threat they forced the Cetra to summon. Yet if they, for some reason, decided to be hopeful for a chance to win against this angel, the days of Cetra were still limited.

* * *

The princess absolutely knew she should not be awake. The entire mission required the cover of night, which made sense for stealth. They had healing materia. They had wind materia, gods forbid they ran out of gas or time. Sephiroth was on his own for the battle itself. She knew he could handle it, judging by the fear of the planet, but she wanted them all to get back safely, uninjured. It was childish, but she was, in fact, a child. With over eight hours of sleep, because she went to bed as early as possible, she sat awake in her room, at four in the morning.

It didn’t take long to find out her mother was awake too, a door squeaking below her and footsteps tapping along the floor. Well, shoot. Now she couldn’t leave. She reached for the book on her nightstand and adjusted toward the window above her bed. The book about angels she was more than halfway done with. Moonlight made it slightly difficult to read, but it was better than darkness. The prince always seemed annoyed by her questions, and she believed with more knowledge, she could learn more about topics he enjoyed, and less of what he considered basic.

Time. Why Time? The angelic queen’s request baffled her little mind. The prince took more comfort in solitude than her presence, no matter how much she tried to get him to talk. The queen must have known that when she made the request. Aerith tried to make good on her end of the deal, the white materia resting in her braided hair now. No one would look for it there. Even without understanding, she kept herself busy, waiting for the seconds to tick on and everyone to come back safely. She stuck herself in her book, eyes wide and pupils blown in the dark as she absorbed all the information her little mind could take as quickly as possible.

A knock at the door drew her out of her concentration.

“Aerith,” Her mother’s voice rang from behind. “They’ll be back soon. Would you like to wait with me at the plaza?”

She jumped up and immediately opened the door. She nodded rapidly, and her mother tried to hide a chuckle.

“Okay. Go and get changed. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

Aerith couldn’t close the door fast enough, rushing out of her pajamas and into her proper dress. Her mother didn’t seem worried, so she shouldn’t be either. She practically bounced off the walls as they left through the streets, but considering the hour, she did try to be quiet. They waited on a stone half-wall, watching the roads ahead, past the homes and to the path from the forest. The soldiers had to come through here, no matter the results of the mission.

At first light, it finally happened. Laughter from outside the city, two voices, approaching at a casual but upbeat speed, exhaustion in their voices paired with…victory.

They made it back.

They won.

Thanks for reading!

Author’s Note: I have a few more ideas for this fic, but probably less plot and more Aeriseph to be honest. I planned on having more backstory/history questions about Jenova and company in this chapter but I (honest to God) forgot what questions I was going to ask. So if you’re interested in the lore and have any questions, feel free to leave a comment!

And as always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

#ff7 #final fantasy vii #ffvii #sephiroth #jenova #ff7 aerith #aerith gainsborough #aeriseph #Next update is Tainted Child again #And I can't wait #Hopefully classes will let me #Sorry this one took a while #thanks for reading!! hope you enjoy!!#angelic aid

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sunascumdoll · 3 years

Text

ˢ/ᵒ ᵃˢᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ

pairings: inumaki x gn!reader, junpei x gn!reader, itadori x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader

genre: sfw/fluff

tw: none.

a/n: pls grab your tissues for junpei, that shit made me sob he’s so precious please.

inumaki

he loves giving you kisses

does not matter where you guys are

his baby wants a kiss

a kiss it what they get

attention?

have it all baby

“toogeeee!” you exclaimed while running over to your white haired boyfriend.

toge was standing by a tree, talking (when he could) with maki and panda. hearing his name, toge quickly turns around, eyes widening at your fast-approaching figure. soft hands found their way around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug, and spinning you around.

you pull away from his neck, a grin painted on your face, “how was your mission, toge? all good? everyone okay?”

“shake,” he replied, waving his friends off before walking away with you still in his arms.

“that’s good. i'm glad you're back! i was really missing you."

"konbu," he hums, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze.

you reach up, grabbing the zipper of his hood and pulling it down. violet eyes watch your hands every movement, a slight smirk forming on his face as you lightly trace the markings that stained his face. pouting, your own e/c eyes fall onto his.

"to, honey, can i have a kiss?"

toge stops in the hallway just before his room, his soft chuckle echoing throughout the hall as he nods. you gently press a kiss on the marking on the left side of his mouth, then the right, before pressing your soft lips against his own. humming in satisfaction, you pull away, admiring the pink tint that spread across his cheeks to the tips of ears.

“okaka.”

“no? what do you mean, n-”

you squeal as your back comes into contact with the plush mattress of toge’s bed. slim fingers tickle the sides of your stomach, your laughter projecting into the small room. toge bends down, his fingers still tickling your tummy, as he presses kisses on your face and neck. his hands drift down your body and to the hem of your shirt, a mischievous grin on his face when he pulls your top up a little to expose your stomach. toge fills his lungs with as much air as they can carry before, blowing a raspberry on your belly. his hands hold your squirming frame down by your waist, blowing more raspberries all over your stomach.

Junpei

SWEET SHY BABY BOY

gets so blushy when you ask

trips over his words and stutters

so used to people being mean doesnt know to act when someone shows him genuine love

will cry

you and junpei had finished building a giant blanket fort in the middle of his room a while ago. pillows and blankets of all sizes were strung about, a few stuffed animals, and snacks to hold you both over resting comfortably in your shared nest. you sat at the back of the fort, scrolling through your phone. you had taken your eyes off the tv screen, this particular movie not really interesting you. your focus is purely on your phone until you heard junpei giggle and act out the scene that was playing. you lock your phone, setting it to the side, and crawl to the front of the fort, settling beside him.

“yes! look at what i have created!” he exclaims.

you can’t help but smile at the scene in front of you. seeing genuine happiness and a smile on his face gives you butterflies in the depths of your stomach. it’s not that he hasn’t shared this side of himself with you, but its rare to be able to admire him when he feels the most comfortable. when he’s able to be himself without holding back, when he can truly enjoy being in the present moment without worrying about what the future brings. when he can enjoy being alive.

“i.. have made fi-”

“junpei,” you hum softly.

he jumps, a bit startled by your voice, before turning towards you, “yes, lovely?”

“can i have some sugar?”

“s-sugar? from me?” pale skin rapidly shifts to a deep crimson red. his hands rested in his lap, grabbing onto each ankle and squeezing tenderly, “okay.’

a feverish mewl spills from your lips as you fit yourself in his lap. your legs lazily wrap around his waist, hands resting limply on his shoulders. you place a small kiss on his nose, chuckling as he squirmed a bit underneath you.

“stay still, and let me get my sugar!”

you grab his hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze, before bringing them both up to your lips, kissing each knuckle on his hands. flipping his hands over, you repeat the same process. kissing his wrists all the way to the top of his shoulders. you place his hands back in his lap, before grabbing onto his face, worshipping every feature of his. one kiss on his left cheek, another on the right one. your right hand glides against his supple skin, lifting the bangs that covered the cigarette burns that littered his skin. one by one, you kissed each burn, each kiss lingering a little bit longer than the last. you fix his bang, before cradling his face, cooing as he looks at you with teary eyes. finally, you place a soft kiss on his trembling lip.

breaking away from the kiss, you look back up at junpei, your thumb wiping away a tear that fell from his eye.

“i love you, my pretty boy.”

Itadori

honestly..

you don’t even need to ask for kisses w yuuji

he always has lips on some part of you

forehead, knuckles, lips, cheeks

you are spoiled, and it’s all yuuji’s fault. you two were always glued at the hip, inseparable. you never had time to crave his affection, because he’s always there, unlike now. you lay on his bed, smothered in his hoodie and curled into a ball. two days. two days without his kisses, his touch, his laughter. two whole days without seeing that cheeky grin that could light up an entire room. the hoodie that once carried his scent, now being masked by yours. you climb off of his bed and out of his room.

two days felt like an eternity, and it was starting to take an effect on your personality. the smile that never left your face was now replaced with a pout and furrowed eyebrows. you walk down the hallways, scurrying feet carrying you to your favorite spot on campus; the big tree just before the gates of tokyo jujutsu high.

you slowly approach the tree, before stopping when a tuft of pink hair catches your attention. that same familiar chuckle fills your ears and your feet move towards the sound.

“yuuji! yuuji! yuuji!” you chant as your entire body engulfs him in a tight hug. your hands wrap around his neck and legs planted tightly around his waist. “i missed you! are you okay? did you learn anything? can i have my kisses now?”

you don’t even give him a chance to respond before grabbing his cheeks and pressing soft short kisses on his lips.

yuuji rests his hands underneath your thighs, holding you up and laughing as you bombard him with questions.

“hi, baby. i missed you more. i’m okay. i did learn some things. yes. you. can.” he answered, softly pressing his lips against yours after each word.

megumi

he’s in his room so you can have all the kisses you want

if you were out and about…

no <3

not a fan of pda

but in private… he *guesses* he can give you a few kisses here and there.

megumi was laying on his bed, wrapped tightly in a blanket and napping, just like you expected him to. a few of your texts went unanswered by him, so you decided to sneak in his room. You were feeling rather touch starved, and wanted any form of attention you could get. you sat on the floor beside his bed, head resting on your arm. your free hand gently scratched at his scalp, e/c admiring his softened features as he snored softly.

“gumi?’

long eyelashes fluttered open to reveal dark blue orbs staring up at you.

"hm?"

you felt bad for waking him while he slept. pushing your need for his attention aside, you quickly form an alternative solution.

" 'm sorry for waking you, but could you summon your divine dogs for me, please?"

megumi sleepily nods, clasps his hands together, and summons them for you, closing his eyes as they settle in front of you.

you let out a small huff, really wanting his attention, but deciding to let him rest for now. you reach behind the dogs ears, scratching at that sensitive spot, and giggling to yourself as their hind legs begin kicking.

about 10 minutes have passed, and megumi's dogs have tired themselves out, curled and laying against one another. you sigh and go back to your previous position, sitting at the side of his bed and watching as the blanket rises and falls.

a slight hmmp escapes your pouted lips as you whisper, "i just want a kiss.."

a pair of hands find their way around you, pulling you onto the bed and into the chest of your lover. with his eyes still closed, megumi places a few kisses on your forehead, and pulls the blanket over you.

"i knew there was something you wanted. next time, just ask."

side note: i love inumaki sm but i literally struggled writing him only bc im sTUPID.

taglist: @laudthingcat

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #inumaki to/ge x reader #junpei x reader #itadori x reader #itadori yuji x reader #megumi x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #Jujutsu Kaisen #fushiguro x reader #inumaki x reader #jjk inumaki #jjk junpei #itadori yuji

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moonlight-alphafemale · 2 years

Text

Courting Kagura

(Day one, Monday)

Omega! Kagura x Alpha! Reader

Warning:extremely cute 🥺

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

"I'm gonna do it!" You said, looking at yourself in the mirror.

You had spent the passed hour hyping yourself up to try courting Kagura. He was shy and not many people really talked to him. You thought he was adorable and after 2 years of trying to gain his trust and getting to know, you finally decided to try courting him.

You had found the softest blankets, pillows and other nesting items you could find. With Kagura being the person he was, you knew he loved his nest. He needed it. Kagura's nest and the calming scent of Chojuro were the only two things that could calm him down if he had an episode.

You bought hundreds of nesting items and even set up a schedule for courting him. You wanted him to be yours, you wanted him to trust you, you wanted him to feel comfortable around you.

Kagura always thought he was dangerous but you never thought that of him. After so many years, you wanted to prove him wrong and that people do truly love him.

It wasn't pity, you didn't want to court him because you pitied him. You just wanted to make him happy, you wanted to show him that you truly cared about him.

You didn't know how to explain it. You just really wanted him, to make him happy, you just....

*Knock Knock*

"Hm? I-I'm coming!" You completely lost track of time. You quickly brushed your hair and slapped your shoes onto your feet, running around to quickly clean your room.

*Knock Knock*

"I-I'm COMING!" You shoved everything into the hallway closet and ran to the door, flinging it open.

"H-Hey Kagura!" You panted, opening the door wider and leading him in.

"Hey Y/N...." He said, coming in and taking his shoes off. You closed and locked the door, running over and leading him to your room.

"Woah, Your room looks nice." He said. Hah nailed it, first impression successful. Kagura had never been to your house before so you didn't want him to think you lived like a slob.(Which you did but he'd never know that)

He sat on your bed and you sat beside him, rummage around under your bed.

"So, what do you want to do?" Oh yeah.... You were so frantic trying to get Kagura to agree coming to your house, you didn't think about what to do next.

"I found a beautiful field out in the middle of the woods. No one is ever there so it would be a good place to go" You said. Perfect save!

"That sounds nice...." Kagura said, with a small sparkle in his eye. He didn't seem as happy as usual but, he didn't seem that upset. Maybe he was just tired.

"Hehe! It could be like a picnic!" You said, getting totally (overly) excited. Kagura was always in his house or with Chojuro, so you thought it would be nice to go somewhere quiet.

You grabbed a bag and made sandwiches, packed chips, drinks (and something special) You took a blanket and put it in the bag. Grabbing Kagura's hand, you lead him over to just outside of the woods.

"Sh-Should we really g-go in there....?" Kagura said, shaking and standing closer to you. You just pat his hand.

"It'll be fine, I've come here many times. You're the only one I've told." You said, squeezing his hand.

You lead Kagura into the forest. 20 minutes later, you finally found it!

It was a beautiful, lush green field. There were tons of pink, white and yellow flowers. There, smack in the middle, was a large beautiful cherry blossom tree in the middle of the field.

It looked straight out of a Disney movie

"Woah....!" Kagura said, standing there in shock at the beautiful scenery. You giggled, pulling him over to the cherry blossom tree where you two set up.

"I really like this place...." Kagura said, rubbing his hand against the beautiful grass. You scooted closer to, leaning against him. Kagura seemed pretty content with it.

"Hey Kagura?"

"Yeah?"

"I have something for you...." You said, you sat up and grabbed the bag you took with y'all. You opened the bag and pulled out a small gift bag.

You handed Kagura the small gift bag, blushing furiously. Kagura took the bag and carefully opened it.

There was an adorable pink and white teddy bear inside. Immediately, Kagura grabbed it and hugged it tightly while purring softly. You giggled, sitting even closer to Kagura.

"Would you like me to scent it for you?" You asked, earning a small nod. You gently took the bear and rubbed it against your scent glands, thoroughly scenting it and handing it back to Kagura.

Kagura purred softly, hugging the bear tightly. You gently patted his head and pulled him close to you, gently rubbing his back.

After a few hours you have to take him home. You wave him goodbye and return him to Chojuro.

Day 1: success

#omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha beta omega #alpha beta omega dynamics #omegamale #my writing #whiskers #naruto #kagura boruto #alpha!reader

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leroyzboots · 3 years

Text

you and i are trying, together.

part two.

The amount of unease that can fit into Tommy's more-than-human-less-than-god body is honestly surprising.

Tommy paces back and forth on the floor of the Lambda lab, his Beyblade whirring between his fingers and his precious immortal dog following behind him with love.

They'd arrived at around half past midnight, but it's now early morning and there's been no sign of the other two members of the science team.

Bubby leans back in their chair, crossing his knee-high laced boots over their knee, and bounces the other one out of anxiety.

"Tommy," he barks; "you're scaring the other scientists."

Tommy glances down and realizes that the Beyblade is whizzing madly in the air around his hands, suspended from nothing.

"D-dammit," He mutters, snatching his toy back and returns it to his pocket.

"They sho-should have been back by now."

Tommy stops pacing for a second and stares down the Coomers with his father's intensity.

"Surely, Benrey could have used teleportation?" Harold chimes in, his knuckles bruised slightly from his repeated stims.

"I think that's what he meant, dear," Bubby replies, patting their husband's shoulder affectionately.

"Yes, exactly!"

Tommy throws his hands into his pockets, huffing out his frustration.

"The f-fact that they're not...back yet! Means something has gone-"

A enormous thud echoes from the the floor, a piece of tile juts out slightly and scatters the scientists nearby.

"Wrong," Tommy finishes miserably, drawing his gun and preparing for Xen's creatures.

Beside him, Sunkist snarls, her hackles raised in warning.

The tile cracks and shoots into the air, with accompanying gunfire from below, and a hatch busts open from the hole.

Tommy aims to shoot, but immediately lowers his gun upon seeing Mr. Freeman's tired but happy face, followed closely by Benrey, the bags under his eyes looking darker than usual.

"G-Gordon!!"

Tommy rushes forward, embracing them both, and the knots of tension unravel in his stomach.

Benrey snuggles just a little closer into Tommy's coat, and Tommy releases Gordon to pull Benrey into a full hug.

Tommy planned on never admitting it to himself, but these two were the people he loved the most.

Benrey..he'd known Benrey for years.

It started when Benrey was just out of training, and Tommy had completed his certification to become a top scientist.

Benrey was 19, maybe 20 at the oldest, his hair pulled into a ponytail that ran down his back.

They weren't close, then, Benrey had been assigned to guard the G-Man's adopted son.

Benrey couldn't die, and Tommy's line of work was dangerous enough to need protection.

So it all worked out.

They barely exchanged more than a few words to eachother until that one night, that one fucking night and Benrey is tripping over himself in tears, blood pouring from the wound on his back and he's clutching Tommy, pawing at his shoulders.

Benrey trembled like he's made from glass and will break if he falls, and Tommy gripped the back of the others security vest so tightly the kevlar nearly rips in half.

And that's saying something.

That night they sat together and they're closer in distance than they've ever been, Tommy's warm and gentle hands bandaged the wound above the numbers tattooed onto Benrey's tailbone and Benrey spilled everything.

Between sniffles and the occasional sob, Benrey confessed, about the tools that somehow hurt him beyond regeneration, leaving a scar, about the men and their evil sticks of lightning that would seep into his bones and fill him with pain so intense he felt like he would break in half.

Tommy nearly broke in half himself.

He felt helpless, and so he went to the only person he knew would make the ones who hurt his first and only friend pay dearly-

His father.

Oh, Tommy had never seen the G-man so angry.

Black Mesa was a research facility, for god's sake, dedicated to the study of alien life and the progression of the human body.

So when Tommy's dad realized that the prototype imprisonment he had resolved several years ago had resurfaced with an even uglier face, he sent scientists who had never experienced fear in their lives tripping for the door in yelps of terror.

And that had been the end of it.

Benrey continued his job as a security guard, people who had previously been made in the facility were hired back on as scientists in new departments such as mixology and cybernetics, and Black Mesa cut its ties with the military.

Black Mesa, Benrey explained later in his own broken way to Tommy in the quiet breakroom during lunch hour, had been trying to create the perfect human being.

There were thousands upon thousands of prototypes that had been created, and Benrey had been the last.

But there had always been something wrong with the ones they created, whether it was serious physical or mental deformities, or simply a sense of fucked up little creature that ended up resulting in the insane amount of scientists with the ability to grow in size, and the security guards that always had a few too many rows of teeth or glowing eyes and severe anger issues.

They weren't always grown in tubes, Tommy learned, but they were always branded with their serial number on the base of the spine.

The one before him, Benrey quipped with a mouthful of sandwich, had been born to a prototype and a normal human employee, before they stripped them out with a memory wipe and sent them into normal society.

The anxious feeling that haunted Tommy in the years that followed had something to do with that piece of information in particular.

Something told him that the military and the alien planet they were studying wouldn't let go of Black Mesa kindly.

Mr. Freeman confirmed that.

He's in the hallway, on his way to get a soda, when he's met with a newer employee, only worked here about 4 or so years.

He seemed kind enough, if a little loud and stubborn. And alright, maybe it hurt Tommy's feelings when Gordon called him a freak, but that was pushed aside with the Resonance Cascade.

Tommy knew that this was it, this was the boot boys' revenge for cutting them out of the picture, but there was something else, distinctly and unsettlingly alien about the Cascade.

The whole of Black Mesa fell into shambles, with creatures of Xen integrating into their carefully built walls and lives, and Tommy kinda freaked, okay?

He'd seen Dr. Coomer around, always greeting him with a wonderful "Hello!!", and was met with a thrill in his stomach when he introduced another prototype as his husband.

Those two had been with him, in the observation room when the project exploded around Gordon and Benrey-

he wasn't supposed to be in the test chamber, what if it seriously hurt him?-

And maybe that was when Tommy realized he was in love with Benrey.

Over time, he felt a sense of conflict slowly building as he made friends with Mr. Freeman.

He seemed to hate Benrey, they hated eachother, but Tommy liked one and loved the other so he became their middle ground.

He was convinced to himself that Benrey liked him as well, until that room, that dark, dark room, and suddenly Benrey is kneeling in a puddle of Gordon's blood and Bubby is screaming, sobbing, blubbering his apologies to anyone who is listening as the soldiers drag them away and Benrey-

He says it, he says those words and it breaks Tommy's heart into a billion pieces-

"Because I love him, okay?! I'm fucking- whoop-de-doo, in love with Gordon god. G-goddamn Freeman, okay?..."

And then Benrey teleports, and he's gone, and Bubby is gone and Dr. Coomer leaves him in the cold dark sewer by himself.

Tommy cried.

Burying his head in his coat, he cried hard and long, alone on the rocky floor.

And then Mr. Freeman crawls out of the pipe, and Tommy can't help it, he holds him.

Gordon reeks of sewage and his bloody hand smells of copper but Tommy doesn't care, and alright, maybe that's when Tommy realized he's in love with Gordon too.

Alright, Tommy can deal with that.

Something Tommy can't deal with is the fact that his instincts are going fucking haywire.

Tommy's always been very perceptive when it comes to time, maybe he can't stop time like his father can, but he's definitely got a certain sense of time and reality as it surrounds him.

Being able to reach out and touch and feel certain areas, but not control them, and all of time is wrapped around him like a blanket.

So when the floor crumbles away below them and Benrey and Gordon fall deep into the recesses of Black Mesa's hellscape, Tommy freaks the fuck out.

A deep, inherent concern lays nested in the pit of his mind like a pile of cottonmouth snakes, hissing madly and snarling that something, something, is absolutely wrong with how this is supposed to go.

Tommy has a sinking feeling that something terrible is going to happen.

Man, Benrey really hates this place.

The scientists of the Lambda lab asked a simple request of the Science Team- go through the portal to Xen, get rid of the Nihilanth, bring back some weird space shit.

Easy as pie.

Right?

Wrong.

Benrey feels sick, feverish on this planet.

As he follows behind the group, his legs feel leaden and heavy, and he tugs at the collar of his uniform, which feels uncomfortably tight around his neck.

He's sweating, unusually warm beneath his helmet, but shivering as though chilled to his bones.

There's a tug, deep in his torso, pulling him along, but it's a nasty, oppressive feeling that makes his limbs feel like noodles.

He swallows nervously, eyes darting across the fetid, blood colored planet of Xen.

The sour smell clogs his senses, and as they trudge deeper and deeper through the portals, away from the floating rocks with little gravity and past strange barrels of highly toxic looking liquid, the heavy pull in Benrey's chest only grows stronger and more sickly.

They push through a final, puke-green portal, and the feeling inside of Benrey swells to near explosion.

A cave, with jagged and dark stone running up the walls in wicked cracks, a deep red flush to the area.

Water is flooding Benrey's boots, a putrid and decaying smell to the liquid, and it only adds to Benrey's fatigue.

The creature before them could only be the Nihilanth itself, and the very sight sends such a fucking shudder down Benrey's spine.

It's disgusting, twisted and pulsating flesh running down what must be its face, beady eyes in a cadaverous socket.

It looks like a fetus, a failed attempt of termination long after the allotted time.

It speaks, and the chorus of voices that accompanies it gives away the fact that Xen isn't just the planet-

It's the entire race.

"So. The humans have finally decided to be rid of us."

Gordon looks tired, beaten, but pulls himself upward and grunts through the pain of his broken shin.

"Get your video game dialogue out of the way," he says, with a dismissive wave of his gun-hand.

"I'm about done with this alien shit."

The Nihilanth laughs, a hideous and painful sound, and tilts its head in curiosity towards the little group of vagabonds.

"But you have brought us the very thing we need, Mr. Freeman."

Gordon groans in frustration, turning back to his friends with his teeth grinding against eachother.

"Why does it know my name?"

Xens' audience shrieks with delight, and the Nihilanth's barely feasible mouth twists into what can only be guessed as a grin.

"Xen knows everything about you, Mr. Freeman."

Benrey sways on the spot, his boots splashing the strange water, and the scene before him blurs.

"Whadda....what the hell are you..talking about, man?"

Xen's creatures seem to roar with laughter, and beside Benrey, Dr. Coomer throws up his fists protestingly.

"Xen has been all knowing, all seeing since time begun. As we grow, so do our minds, until we are forced to repopulate. Regrow."

Beneath their feet, headcrabs scuttle ominously, causing Tommy to jump backward with surprise.

"But human beings became a problem for Xen. Their flimsy bodies failed, burst open upon integration."

Benrey is only just awake enough to process this.

"The scientists of Black Mesa were so eager to learn of a new planet. So Xen took influence, and under the guise of building a perfect human being, created what Xen needed."

Gordon scoffs, his shoulders shaking as he laughs scornfully.

Xen reacts strongly, a collective hiss rising around them.

"Do not laugh at us, human."

The headcrabs stay at a distance, but raise their pincers and click them menacingly as the Nihilanth's speech continues.

"Xen required a human being who could withstand radiation, a being who could lose blood en mass and not perish."

A sense of dread washes over the Science Team, and Tommy instinctively puts himself in front of Gordon.

Bubby ignites his arms protectively.

"Let me guess," Gordon growls, revving up his minigun limb; "you needed me?"

Xen's creatures wail in joy, and Benrey takes that as a yes, and reaches for his gun, when something big and poisonous and slimy wraps around his ankle.

"Xen requires Benrey."

Benrey yelps as the Nihilanth drags him underneath the water, bubbles of Sweet Voice trailing from his mouth as his back bounces on the cragged floor beneath the surface.

The Nihilanth swings him into the air, and Benrey splutters, ears waterlogged under his helmet, which slips from his head and falls to the ground with a splash, Benrey's short black hair now dripping wet.

"Look at you, our once perfect vessel- a mewling, pathetic dog."

Hung upside down by his ankle, Benrey gasps in pain as Xen shakes him repeatedly, and for a brief, sickening moment, Benrey is forcibly reminded of the Finding Nemo movie Tommy showed him-

He feels like a fish in Darla's little bag.

"Bark, bark, bark but no bite. You were made with Xen's own blood and yet you cannot even protect those you are infatuated with."

With that, the Nihilanth throws him to the far wall, and his skull cracks on the rock.

It doesn't heal, and Benrey slumps down, struggling to stand, his eyesight swimming with tears.

"You think the Freeman human loves you? You cost him a limb. You would be perfect save for your one flaw- you kneel before a man you could kill with no effort, and you beg him to love you as you love him."

Benrey shakes, kneeling, and whimpers as he chokes out a sob, not trying to disguise his tears.

"You truly are nothing."

"No."

The word is tiny, barely audible.

Then again, louder, with a crack of his voice but more than enough power-

"No. You're wrong."

Gordon pulls himself to full height, scowling so deeply the age shows on his face.

"Benrey is everything to us. To all of us, but especially me."

"Y-yeah! We're not afraid of you!" Tommy chimes, and Sunkist howls with approval.

"If you or your alien bitches thought we'd just leave him here, you're just as stupid as you look."

Bubby grins wildly, cracking their neck from side to side, his bright and eager eyes flashing beneath their glasses.

"Don't fuck with the Science Team!" Coomer bellows, and Bubby cheers beside him.

"Now I'm only gonna tell you once," Gordon beams, turning away from his family to draw his gun-hand and point it at Xen's Nihilanth.

"Piss off."

Gordon fires, and the accompanying screams of headcrabs and peeper puppies echo across the cave, and Benrey is overtaken with an aching, sweet feeling he usually associates with Gordon.

It's love.

Benrey smiles fondly as his knees buckle and he falls to the ground and submerges in the murky waters.

Benrey wakes up and immediately is struck with a massive goddamn headache.

He closes his eyes and pulls the pillow over his ears, but the pain is there and clearly is not going anywhere, so he's going to have to ask for an aspirin or some shit.

Sitting up makes him so nauseous it's not even funny, so he decides it's not worth it to stand.

A loud snore startles Benrey enough to yelp, and he glances around for the source of the noise.

Sitting hand in hand on the floor, against the wall opposite his bed, are Gordon and Tommy, both bearing signs of wear and both dead asleep.

Gordon is clutching Benrey's helmet so tightly to his shirt it looks uncomfortable, and Tommy is curled protectively around Gordon's shoulders.

They're half dressed, like Black Mesa decided that the HEV suit and a bloody lab coat was not appropriate clothing but also did not have a whole lot of options for back up wear.

Benrey guesses this based on the fact that Gordon's not really wearing pants and Tommy's wearing a t-shirt that says "Birthday Girl".

Something about the fact that they're holding hands hurts Benrey, just a little.

His heart aches for a moment as he remembers the warmth of Gordon's hand and the feeling of a hug from the Beyblade enthusiast who was his best and only friend for a very long time.

Benrey shakes his head, decides he's going to repress it, and yawns.

God, his head hurts.

Benrey figures that if he stands, he's going to trip and probably break something, and since he doesn't trust his regeneration ability right now, he's not risking it.

Instead, he picks up his pillow and heaves it at the two scientists as hard as he can.

Tommy jolts awake, blinking, then smiles widely upon sighting the guard.

"Benrey!!"

Tommy shoots upward, and makes the distance between the wall and the hospital bed in one step, leaving Gordon to slump over and yell in surprise as he hits the floor.

Benrey's pulled into a crushing hug, and he wheezes for Tommy to be gentle.

"S-sorry!" Tommy cries happily, pulling back to take in Benrey's face.

"It's..it's g-good to see you awake."

Gordon stands, still holding the helmet, and wanders over to where Tommy is perched on the edge of the bed.

"You've been out for hours," Gordon adds, gently reaching out with his left hand to ruffle Benrey's hair.

"We were starting to get worried."

Benrey swallows his funny retort for once, instead choosing to spit out some clear blue song in response.

Tommy reads it almost immediately, and excuses himself to get medicine.

Gordon takes his spot on the bed, and just looks over Benrey.

Benrey feels like he's being scrutinized, with Gordon's soft green eyes just roaming over his face.

"Alright. Fucking. Get the questions outta the way," Benrey mumbles irritably, sticking out his tongue.

"I know you're fuckin. Curious about the shit Xen said."

Gordon laughs sweetly, setting the helmet down on the bed next to him and runs his fingers over it fondly.

Benrey takes a note of his new right hand, a grey-black prosthetic that clicks when Gordon moves his knuckles.

"I don't really have any questions," Gordon grins, adjusting his shirt.

"Other than, are you okay?"

Benrey's taken back by this one.

Not only did he cost Gordon his hand and almost his life about thirty billion times, but everyone (including him!) also just found out that Benrey was made with Xen DNA.

He's essentially Gordon's enemy in every sense of the word, and Gordon is asking if he's okay?

"....did the Nihilanth hit your head or somethin', man?? What the hell kinda. Question is that one??"

Gordon's smile softens massively, and it makes Benrey's heart melt into a little puddle in his stomach.

"Benrey, you saved my life a whole shit ton of times back there."

"Yeah, I also almost got you killed," Benrey interrupts, but Gordon doesn't pause.

"I've been thinking about a lot of things while you've been asleep, and I've been talking with Tommy a lot too."

Benrey's happy puddle evaporates into a heavy leaden ball inside of his chest.

"I don't need to hear this, dude."

Gordon looks a little confused, so Benrey keeps going.

"You're. I know you heard the shit Xen said about...."

Benrey pauses, unsure if he wants to say it out loud.

That'll finalize it, forever.

He takes a breath, then with a great effort, says it out loud.

"I love you. Have since we were kids, have since I first met you. Xen was...right. They were fucking right, you're happier with Tommy because he's never hurt you or..fuck. Fuck, man, you don't feel the same and I'm done pushin' it on you. We uhh, clear?"

Gordon covers his mouth with his hand, and for a split second Benrey thinks he's made him cry, but Gordon bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach and snorting in between giggles.

"B-Benny, you idiot, I am in love with you."

Maybe it's the sudden affectionate nickname, or the fact that Gordon said he loves him.

But Benrey blushes, hard, and pink-to-blue sweet voice bubbles out of his mouth in surprise.

"Whuh?"

Tommy walks back into the room, bottle in hand, and pauses at the sight in front of him.

"Oh, are w-we doing conf-confessions now?!"

Before Benrey can even speak, Tommy drops down beside him and kisses him on the cheek, putting him and Gordon's hands in his own.

Tommy doesn't say it, but Benrey gets the point.

"Fucking- FINALLY!!"

Benrey just might die for real.

Bubby leans in the doorway, a smug grin on his face, elbow resting on Dr. Coomer's shoulder.

"Ah, young love is beautiful!"

Tommy and Gordon laugh cheerfully at Dr. Coomer, and Benrey buries his face sheepishly in the blankets.

It takes a few days, but Benrey recovers pretty well from the Nihilanth.

He's thought a lot about what Xen said.

And he's decided that they were very wrong about him.

His love for other people isn't a flaw, it's his best quality.

He can and will protect the people he loves with his life, no matter what.

And he knows that the people he loves will do the same for him.

With time, Gordon learns not to flinch at the sight of his right hand, or gag when he drinks a soda.

Benrey learns to accept hugs and snuggles from Tommy, and figures out the jokes that Gordon likes and doesn't like.

Tommy is always there to patch up Benrey's injuries, and learns better responses that don't involve soda when Gordon needs to vent.

So Benrey feels safe, and knows that he's not the only one who's trying to be better.

Benrey and them are trying, together.

#hlvrai #frenrey #tomrey #freelatta #frenreylatta #leafy fics

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blonde-in-charge · 3 years

Text

Wildcard Chapter Two

Hello! Kat here! Anyways here is chapter two of Wildcard, I hope you guys like it. Please remember to like, repost, and comment if you enjoyed it! Please comment or message me if you would like to be apart of the taglist for this series, anyways enjoy!

Summary: Steve Rogers found you on the side of the road after a mission involving Hydra and convinced the Avengers to take you in. You have no name, no memories, and no idea of what you are capable of. All you know is that you are a super soldier with more hidden abilities than you care to admit. The first step to finding answers was to train you. Nobody, including you, knows what is up your sleeve.

Characters: Bucky x reader, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Random Hydra guy

Warnings: blood/violence and ass kicking, mentions of suicide, worried!bucky, maybe a lil bit of fluff, Bucky’s POV

Words: 2.6k

The elevator ride was silent on the way back to your floor. You were just so angry with yourself, you had no stamina when it came to your powers, even after training all day with Natasha and Tony. God forbid you joined in on missions, you would be killed on sight. You sighed loudly, your head was pounding. You checked your watch and realized it was past dinner time, fantastic. You couldn't wait to skip eating and go straight to bed. The elevator reached it destination and the doors slide open to reveal the floor you lived on to be completely dark and empty. You heard shuffling down the hallways and you had the urge to call out to Steve or Bucky. You remained silent and started to quietly make your way down the hallway. You heard shuffling and then felt a presence behind you. Before you knew what was happening, you had spun around to a looming figure over you and saw a glint of light in one of their hands. Knife.

It all happened so fast you barely registered that your body swung into action. You grabbed the assailant's arm and twisted the knife out of their hand before jumping up and wrapping your thighs around their neck. The man struggled clutching at your thighs, he slammed his back against the wall in an attempt to break your grip. Your head was pounding and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You used all the momentum you had to swing your body downwards with the man wrapped in between your legs to slam him into the ground. The assailant was unphased and finally managed to rip you off of his back and neck. You fell to the ground but scrambled to get up as quickly as possible. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see the outline of the man as he stalked around you. You turned and sprinted down the hallway into the living area and kitchen and heard the man follow close behind. You ran full speed at one of the support beams and kicked off of it to throw yourself at him. The man grabbed your throat out of mid air and threw you to the ground, knocking the air from your lungs. You were being held by your throat against the cold tile, your vision slowly slipping away to black. You heard metal being ripped apart from down the hallway and the sound of heavy running. The air rushed back into your lungs as the man was thrown off of you and you rolled over automatically to suck in the most painful breath of air. You looked up to see who had joined you and saw Bucky standing over the limp man who just spit at him.

“Hello Soldat.” The man grinned up at Bucky in the dark. Bucky remained deathly still upon hearing the name, “It is good to see you are alive.”

You heard the door to the stairway slam open and looked down the hall to see two more figures run towards you, Bucky, and the man. You squinted and saw Steve standing next to Natasha, both ready to hurl themselves into the fight. The lights switched on and you looked over to see the man had managed to stand up and move towards the window. He was covered in blood and gave you a sickening smile with his yellow teeth, “Hail Hydra.” Your heart dropped as you picked yourself up and watched him break the glass of the window and jump. You ran forward stopping at the edge of the glass to peer over. The man had fallen almost 35 stories and was now limp and bleeding out against the pavement below. Your mouth was hanging open in a silent scream as you felt someone tug you back from the window. You gripped at the metal arm holding your waist as they pulled you away towards your own room. You were half dragged half carried to your room and when your eyes laid upon it, it had been ransacked and torn apart. Before you could process the situation, Bucky turned around and headed towards his own room. He set you gently upon the bed and you studied the dents in the door from when he forced it open. Bucky did not make eye contact with you as he started arranging the pillows around you to try and make you comfortable.

“Bucky.” You said quietly as you watched him, waiting for him to look at you.

Bucky ignored you and continued his fret around the room, trying hard to clean and make it comfortable for you. He set up a singular pillow and blanket on the ground and you watched him, realizing he was going to let you stay in his room, “Buck, look at me.” He stopped for a moment before turning around and meeting your eye.

Your face was tinted pink from the fight and your eyes were set in dark circles. The braid your hair was in originally was coming undone from the middle, with pieces of hair standing up in every direction. The sweatshirt you wore was torn under your left arm, leaving a huge hole that exposed your ribs. His eyes trailed down and rested at your neck and you felt yourself immediately ghosting your hand over what felt to be a huge bruise covering your neck from the assault. You knew the bruise would fade quickly, so did Bucky, but that did not stop the worried look in his eyes. You wouldn't admit to him you were traumatized, you knew he was too. The place you thought would be safe was broken into by the same people who destroyed the light in you both. You searched Bucky’s face and then he turned around to rummage through his drawers. He pulled out a long sleeve burgundy shirt and handed it to you without saying a word. You took the shirt in your hands and looked up at him to thank him but he had already made his way to the door, presumably to talk to Steve about what just happened.

You stood up and pulled your ruined sweatshirt over your head before you threw it into the corner of Bucky’s room, along with the sports bra you were wearing. You pulled the soft shirt over your head and stuck your arms into the sleeve holes. You pushed down and kicked off the leggings you were wearing and settled for the pair of boyshorts you were wearing underneath before you crawled back into the nest Bucky created around you. You pulled the elastic band out of your hair and ran your fingers through the soft waves the braid had created. The door reopened to Bucky holding a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. You sighed almost forgetting about the throbbing behind your eyes. You nodded him thank you before popping open the bottle and pouring five little pills into your hand, ignoring the hard look the former soldier was giving you. You cupped your hand to your mouth letting the pills fall in before chasing them down with the glass of water in your other.

When the power went out, Bucky thought it was just another storm. He was staring up at the ceiling criticizing the way a storm could take out the power in the Avengers Tower, shouldn't there be a backup generator in this place? Bucky ignored the familiar click of the door as it locked him into his own room, a safety precaution he was well aware of. The silence overtook his room, all he could hear was his steady heart beat in his ears, until it wasn't. He could hear the faint sound of struggling outside of his door and he sat himself up to stare at the silver door. His heart beat grew louder in his ears as he pushed himself out of the bed and towards the door to press his ear against it. A loud thump against the wall caused him to flinch and jump back from the door. He ran his fingers through his hair, he couldn't leave this room, surely someone would come up and help whoever was being attacked, right? He racked his brain for answers as soon as he heard the running past his door. Who lived on this floor? Himself, Steve and-

The thumping in Bucky’s ears grew louder, he pressed his ear to the door and heard someone get thrown against the ground, and the sound of them gasping for air. He reeled back and slammed his body against the door over and over again, barely leaving a dent in the thick metal. He took a deep breath and tried wedging the fingers of his left hand into where the door was locked, and he grunted as the door fought him. He opened the door enough to get out, surely leaving a dent in the side of the door where his metal arm had crushed it. He ran towards the noises of struggle and rounded the corner to see you being held to the ground by your throat. Your eyes looked straight through Bucky’s and rage washed over him as he threw himself at the man to tackle him off of you. The sound of you inhaling your first breath was music to Bucky’s ears as he pulled himself up looking at the silhouette of a man against the window.

Bucky’s breath was ragged from the amount of anger that welled up inside of him. He could see the man grin at him before he said, “Hello Soldat,” Bucky’s breath stopped and he remained frozen in place as the man spit blood at him then continued to speak with a thick russian accent that was laced with venom, “It is good to see you are alive.”

The man in front of him glanced behind Bucky, and Bucky realized he didn't register the lights clicking on or the sound of Steve and Natasha's steps behind him. The man grinned wickedly with yellow teeth before making dead eye contact with you, “Hail Hydra.” Was the last thing he said before glass shattered and he was falling towards the ground below. You flew past Bucky to the window sending him into a panic that you would follow the man to the ground. Bucky leaped forward and grabbed you around your waist with his left arm and dragged you back. Steve watched you both with fear and anger swirling in his eyes, made eye contact with Bucky in a silent plea to calm their friend. Bucky turned his attention to you for the first time to see the look of absolut horror written all over your face, he could feel your body shaking against his. He didn't let himself think about it too much as he half dragged you to your room. Bucky saw the absolute chaos of the room before you did and turned around and headed in the direction of his own, praying you didn't see your room in the state it was in. That man wanted something from you or him, Bucky’s mind was reeling as he sat you on his bed, your tired eyes looking up at him. His anxiety was through the roof so he just started moving. He didn't want you leaving his side until it was safe for both of you, Bucky moved around his room picking up pillows and blankets to put near you.

“Bucky.”

He arranged the pillows behind you, careful to keep his distance while working. He turned around and scanned his room before setting up something for him to sleep on, on the ground.

“Buck, look at me.” Bucky stopped completely and slowly turned around to face you. His eyes scanned you up and down before resting on your own eyes. He could tell you were tired, he admired the brave face you were putting on, no doubt for him. His eyes glanced down to see the faded navy blue sweatshirt you wore so often was torn, he turned towards his dresser and pulled out his most comfortable long sleeve shirt. He knew you preferred long sleeves the same way he did, you both had something to hide, a piece of your past written on both of your arms. Bucky remained silent before walking out of the room to give you privacy and he walked straight into the living room where Steve was speaking in hushed tones to Natasha and Tony.

Steve looked up and regarded Bucky with concern, “How is she doing?”

“How the hell did he get into the tower?” Was the first thing Bucky had said in hours.

Tony’s jaw was clenched, “Friday was shut down for updating, it's a monthly thing that leaves our defenses down, I have no idea how he knew exactly when I was going to do it.” Bucky could tell Tony blamed himself, which made him feel slightly better.

“She doesn't feel safe here, and frankly, neither do I.” Bucky said quietly, although you never verbally said it, Bucky could tell by the way you were holding yourself.

Steve looked away from Bucky and nodded with understanding, “We will have a safe house set up for both of you in the next couple hours, it would be best that you leave while it's dark.”

“We are not splitting up.” Bucky said staring into Steves eyes

“Buck-” Steve started but Tony cut him off

Tony started “Look sunshine, it will be too easy to find you if you are both in the same place, Hydra could-”

“I don't care. We aren't splitting up, the last thing she needs is to be alone” He knew you could handle yourself alone he said it mostly for himself, he didn't want to be alone again.

Steve looked at him with knowing eyes, “Alright, fine. I will come get you when the safe house is ready, just go be there for her right now, okay?”

Bucky didn’t even respond to Steve; he just nodded and turned towards the kitchen. He filled a glass up with water and hunted down the bottle of pain relievers to bring to you. Bucky re-entered his own room, ignoring the gap between the center of his door and the wall from when he ripped it open. His eyes fell upon you wearing his shirt and snuggled into his bed when he handed you the items in his hands. You poured a handful of ibuprofen and Bucky gave you a look that said ‘really?’

He realized he hasn't said anything up until this point and then he cleared his throat watching you wash down the pills, “They are moving us into a safe house later tonight, Friday was breached when it- she was down for maintenance,” Bucky caught the flicker of worry in your eyes, “We will be in the safe house together.” He was content as some of the worry dissolved from your face, “For now you should get some rest…”

He started to sit himself on the ground and you reached out to grab his arm, “Will you stay up here with me?” He looked into your eyes at the silent begging which made him nod his head. He has never been this close to you before, he hasn't been this close to anyone since the war. His body was vibrating with anxiety as he climbed into the nest of pillows and blankets on the bed. You threw your legs over his and buried your face into his chest, then sighed into him with contentment. Bucky’s body was extremely tense until he felt you relax into his right side. He stared up at the ceiling and felt your chest rise and fall against the side of his body. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #marvel imagine

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fettsvette · 3 years

Text

Comfort Care

Your monthly visitor has you feeling miserable, and Jango wants to take care of you.

Pairing: Jango Fett x Reader Words: 2.2k Rating: Teen Warnings: Mentions of menstruation and sex

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Mando’a terminology

cyare - beloved

mesh’la - beautiful

keldabe - affectionate headbutt/forehead press

manda - Mandalorian spiritual concept/version of the afterlife, and/or collective soul of the Mandalorian people

“I’m back, cyare. ”

The bedroom door cracked open and whitish light from the hallway flooded in, causing you to wince and hunker down further into the nest of blankets you had built for yourself, the only reprieve from the blast of brightness being the form of your lover standing in the doorway, solid and sure. Jango Fett padded further into your shared bedroom, still in his armor, his head cocked quizzically. This wasn’t your normal reaction to his greeting after being away on so long of a hunt. He’d been anticipating a cry of surprise, followed by you leaping into his arms at a full run to pepper him with kisses. Instead, he’d been hailed with a vague stirring of blankets, and a quiet grunt, although he wasn��t sure if you’d made that noise, or if it had been the door creaking.

“Are you alright, love? I expected a better welcome than that, I’ve been gone for almost a month.” Jango questioned, trying to hide the concern in his voice. He was surprised to find you already in bed at this hour, especially when he’d sent a messenger droid ahead of the Slave I to alert you that he was on his way back to you. His question was met with another grunt - yes, it had definitely been you, not the door - and he stifled a chuckle at the sound as he moved towards you, his helmet tucked under his arm. He suddenly had a feeling of what may be ailing you, based on how long it had been since he’d left, and he had to admit that your theatrics concerning this particular subject always amused him.

“Everything hurts and I’m dying .” You retorted grumpily, gingerly rising to a sitting position in the bed and grimacing as you were hit with another wave of cramps in your lower belly and groin. Your cycle had just started earlier in the evening, and while you had been anticipating Jango’s arrival home from Ord Mantell for some time now, and knew he was due to return thanks to the messenger he had sent, you were exhausted and had wanted nothing more than to curl up in your bed and sleep off the worst of the cramping. Jango would be there when you awoke in the morning, and hopefully you would be feeling better at that point in time. But now here he was, in the middle of the night, bursting into your bedroom and jarring you from your rest. There was no way you could be upset with him, though; you’d missed him dearly while he way away, worried over him constantly while he tracked down his bounty - a Bith musician who’d tried to exit his lifetime performing contract with a Falleen nobleman a bit early - and now, as you gazed pathetically at him from your spot in the bed, the slight quirk of his lips and arch of his eyebrows made your heart ache for him.

Jango’s brows lifted at your whining, and he nodded curtly, almost to himself. You didn’t know how, but sometimes you thought he knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Ah, I see… I had a feeling that an unwelcome visitor had just dropped by. I can assure you that you’re not dying, though. What do you need of me, mesh’la ?” Jango asked, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile even further, and you felt yourself flush at the soft rasp of his voice. You knew he was implying either of two things, perhaps both - a bit of tender care and company in your afflicted state, or something of a more carnal nature. Jango didn’t mind having sex when you had your period - if anything he seemed to enjoy how much more sensitive and hot and slick you were, and he took pride in the fact that he could make you feel so much better just by fucking you - but he’d been gone for so long, and you were grouchy and tired, and all you wanted was to feel safe in his embrace, more than anything else.

“Take care of me?” You asked softly, pulling the blankets up around your chin and giving your lover what you hoped was your best pleading expression. You heard just how pathetic and needy your voice sounded, but you didn’t care - you knew that Jango loved taking care of you, and you adored just how gently he could treat you, especially after having just returned from a hunt. Jango’s expression softened further as soon as the words left your mouth, and your heart skipped a beat. Your begging had the desired effect after all.

“ As you wish . I’ll be right back, darling. Let me get this armor off and jump in the sonic, I don’t think you want me sharing your bed when I’m this sweaty.” He gave you a mock bow that made you giggle, and stepped back out into the hall, looking back over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner to the refresher and giving you a coy wink. You heard the familiar clunking sounds of his Mandalorian armor being deposited on the closet floor shortly afterwards, followed by the soothing vibrations of the sonic shower in the adjacent room. You reclined against the pillows once more, trying to ignore the contracting muscles in your abdomen, and waited for your love to rejoin you, anticipating feeling his arms around you.

This man you had built a life with was one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy, and you couldn’t believe just how threatening and terrifying and downright mean he could appear when he needed to, but the quiet strength he exuded when the two of you were alone was such a comfort. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have this secret side of Jango Fett all to yourself, and you never planned to take it for granted.

“Room service…” You hadn’t even realized you’d dozed off until the call and soft knock came from the doorway, and you sat back up, grinning at your lover’s snide comment. Jango stepped back into your bedroom, nudging the door open with his foot and carrying two clay mugs and a piping hot carafe of something that smelled absolutely delicious. You couldn’t help but perk up when you realized it was your favorite warm drink, Deychin tea. There hadn’t been any in the flat when you’d last checked, and your heart flipped in your chest when you realized he must have picked some up for you while he was away. Jango seemed to be the only one who knew how to prepare it exactly the way you liked it, anyway. You thankfully took the mug after he’d poured some tea for you, blowing on the liquid and taking a small sip, humming delightedly to yourself as you felt the warmth spread down into your belly, and throughout your body. Jango sat on the bed next to you and poured himself a cup, taking several sips himself before placing the carafe and mug on the nightstand. You took a moment to drink him in - his close-cropped curls, those dark eyes, the hard set of his jaw, the scars that freckled his skin. All these years later, and he was still the most ruggedly handsome man you’d ever seen in your life. He was dressed comfortably in a simple woven tunic that dipped to expose his broad chest, and a pair of worn grey sweatpants slung low around his hips, and you shivered from desire despite yourself. You really didn’t know how you’d managed to bag such a gorgeous specimen of a man, yet here he was.

“My poor girl…” Jango cooed softly, the teasing tone in his voice not unnoticed, and you leaned your head down to bump against his shoulder like a felinx desiring a scratch behind the ears from its owner. He laughed at your antics, a low rumble that always sent a delicious chill up your spine, and turned to face you, plucking the mug from your hands and setting it on the table next to his own. Without another word, he pulled back the blankets and settled himself underneath them next to you, and slung one muscular arm around your shoulders, guiding you to lay your head against his chest, which you did gladly. You sighed contentedly at the heat Jango always seemed to radiate, and reached up to intertwine your fingers with his over your shoulder, smiling to yourself at just how small he made you feel, his hand in yours. His fingers were scarred and rough after years of working with weaponry and fixing machinery, but you loved how reassuring they felt against your skin. Jango cupped his other hand against your cheek briefly as you made yourself comfortable against him, then trailed it down to rest against your lower belly, directly over your uterus, and gently kneaded the soft flesh there.

You couldn’t help but let out a satisfied groan at the warmth radiating from his hand through to the cramping muscles, as well as the pressure his deft fingers applied to the aching area, and you relaxed further into him, feeling like putty in his arms. You lifted your chin to look into his eyes, and were met by that same searching, brooding expression, his lips slightly pursed in a quiet smirk, and Jango leaned forward to capture your mouth in his, never once ceasing his ministrations as he kissed you, only breaking away to leave a trail of them against your cheek, the tip of your nose, and your forehead, followed by a proper keldabe that ended too soon for your liking.

Your face felt hot where his stubble had brushed against your skin, and you relished in the knowledge that you’d be able to feel the ghost of his kisses for hours afterwards. Jango released his other hand from your grasp and circled it around your waist, hugging you closer to him and turning you so that you laid on your side, pressed against his abdomen. You winced slightly as the change of position and the absence of his hand against your tummy ignited another volley of cramps, but once you were pressed firmly against his body, the heat coming off him in waves was more than enough to sate your aches and pains.

“That’s my good girl, letting me take care of you like this…” Jango rumbled affectionately, and you whined softly in response at his praise, burying your face against his tunic and wrapping your arm around his waist, hastily throwing one leg over his own for good measure. Jango let out a small ‘ oof ’ at your unexpected cuddle, tensing for a moment as he adjusted to your grip on him, but quickly chuckled and hugged you tighter. He adored just how needy you could be for him sometimes, especially after he’d been away for a lengthy period of time, or when you weren’t feeling well.

“Are you feeling a bit better now that I’m here, my love?” Jango whispered against your hair, and you swore you could feel him smiling against you. His smiles were so rare, so beautiful, and it made your heart ache to know that you were the cause of the sheepish grin you knew crossed his normally stern features. You wanted to sit up, hold that face between your hands and kiss his lips so deeply, so earnestly, but you were much too tired to make the effort, and knew your man would be there in the morning when you woke up. You always stirred after dawn broke to the feeling of Jango’s arms around you, if you were fortunate enough to have him home with you.

“You have no idea, Jango. Thank you…” You murmured sleepily, nuzzling your nose against his collarbone and sighing blissfully as Jango’s long fingers carded through your hair, his free hand smoothing up and down the curve of your back, tracing patterns over the thin material of your sleep shirt. It wasn’t long before the steady, strong rhythm of Jango’s heartbeat, as well as the rise and fall of his chest against your cheek, helped you drift off into a deep sleep, your fist still clutching at the soft material of his shirt, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

As Jango watched you sleep, he felt a surge of affection for you make its way through his body. He didn’t think he would ever truly understand why you loved him so deeply after all he’d done in his career, why you were so comforted by his touch or mere presence alone, but the way you looked now, asleep and completely at peace in his arms after such a fitful start to your evening, offered the realization that maybe he didn’t have to understand. He loved you something fierce, and you loved him desperately in return, despite everything, and perhaps that would always be enough.

Jango Fett leaned his cheek against the crown of your hair and sent a whispered prayer of thanks to the manda for allowing him to come home safely to you, time and time again.

Thank the stars for small favors.

#jango fett #jango fett fanfiction #jango fett x reader

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oneshotnewbie · 3 years

Note

I hope the Danvers sisters are reunited in Chapter 3 of the Missing for A Decade fic. I just finished the 2nd chapter and it was good. I also hope that her sisters give her kidnapper hell.

A/N: Nope, they are not reunited yet. But maybe in the fourth Chapter! ;) --- By the time Maggie pulled up to the street, she saw the two patrol cars and the police tape that kept the onlookers and news people distanced from the house. Inwardly she cursed incessantly; how did they know more quickly than she did? Who or what had told them that they had found the girl who had been missing for several years? She was beside herself with her anger, but quickly evaporated through the lump in her throat and the pounding of her racing heart.

The brown-haired detective got out of her car with shaky legs and, with the request for space, squeezed through the crowd that turned into a thick wall around the house.

She knew she had to hide you as best she could from everyone else so that the press wouldn't have anything to popularize. She wanted to keep it a secret, especially since she didn't know what condition you were in and didn't want Kara and Alex to find out through the screen that you were still alive.

She wanted to tell them herself, she owed them that.

She waved her badge to the two police officers and the young brown-haired rookie pulled the tape up so she crawled underneath and thanked him.

The door was wide open when she came to a standstill in front of it to take another breath. All the years in which you disappeared where pure hell for her too, she lost almost everything.

She lost you and her relationship with Alex broke, through the psychological and physical strain of finding you, she almost broke under the pressure and got fired if she wouldn't have pulled herself together. She had lost herself in alcohol after blaming herself for not finding a single hot trail in the first 48 hours that has since been colder than Antarctica, but she caught herself every moment she thought of you and about that you could never forgive her if she got drunk instead of looking for you.

She pushed her thoughts away and took a step over the threshold. The stench of unventilated space and fermented wood stung her nostrils, but she didn't care, she finally just wanted to be able to hold you in her arms again.

She walked down the long hallway which had old, stale wallpaper that was already hanging down and looked scratched off. On the way, following the voices, she also passed the kitchen and a storage room that contained a mattress and a thin wool blanket.

Images settled in her head and the thought of you lying there, trapped in a less than three square meter room and slowly losing hope that you would ever come out alive again gnawed at her inside and made her eyes water.

Finally she arrived in the living room and stopped at the sight.

A starved body stood with the back to her in the middle of the room, holding a little girl. The clothes were dirty and full of holes, parts of the arms and legs that she could see were covered with bruises, scratches and old scars. Your hair was disheveled like a bird's nest and your skin was paler than she remembered it.

"Y/N.." Maggie whispered, hardly believing that she would ever see you again.

Turned around, you stared at her. While your brain told you to run to her immediately and don't let her go again, your body literally defended itself against it like a protective mechanism, that you actually no longer needed. "Maggie."

Your trembling and slightly scratched voice made her stomach upset and sick. 10 years in which she slowly forgot how you sounded and now she believed that she was completely in a dream because she not only heard your voice again, but you stood in front of her.

As if you had grown into the ground, you didn't move an inch. You couldn't, your body simply didn't respond to anything anymore.

Maggie too, was in a rigidity from which she could only find her way out with great difficulty. She ran up to you and hugged you as tightly as she could without hurting the little brown-haired girl in your arms. "It's you. It's really you!"

Tears formed in your eyes and you digged your fingernails tighter into her sweater with your free hand while you buried your face into her chest.

An insane burden fell from her and she too could no longer keep her emotions under control. You both stood there in the middle of the room and took in this moment to the fullest, as if you could both beathe again and drop a load off your shoulders.

Paramedics and forensics, who were notified before they even entered, stood around you both and applauded. It was not often that a missing person, especially a teenager, could be found after years, at least alive.

"Mommy, who is that?" the little one interrupted this moment and Maggie let you go involuntarily.

Her hand found it's place on one of your shoulder blades, the brunettes confused look always alternating between you and the little girl in your arms while she slowly understood and again tears welled up in her eyes. "Mommy?"

You nodded in confirmation.

"This is my daughter, Grace." you smiled at her before you lowered your head to the little one and smiled at her too. "Grace, this is Maggie. She is the wife of one of your aunts."

"One of the good guys you told about?" she asked while she played with a strand of your hair and stared at Maggie with big, hazelnut brown eyes.

"More than that, my darling." you sobbed. "Family."

"Wow!"

The little childs fearful look turned into shining eyes and a big grin as it conjured one on Maggies lips as well. She still couldn't believe what was going on in front of her. You had a daughter that no one knew about. You had no one to help you raise her. Kara and Alex had no idea about their niece, hell, they didn't even know that you were still alive.

Her thoughts drove her from grief to total anger at the bastard who did this to you and tore you out of your environment and your life. Inwardly she vowed to bring him to the grave by hand.

"Detective Sawyer?" she was torn from her thoughts. "We will bring them both through the back door into the ambulance and then to the NC hospital where they will be checked and treated."

"I come with you. I won't let them out of my sight again." she spoke coldly and shortly before the paramedic nodded and went on with a few other police officers to the back.

She felt a pull on her sides and watched the little girl clasping her tiny little hands at her black leather jacket. She smiled again when she noticed that Grace spread her arms and wanted to being held by her. "C'mere little Y/N."

Despite the fact that she probably had to watch bad things and was also trapped, she was still trusting. Probably because you told her too much good about the world, your family and about strong fighters that the bad couldn't be outweigh.

The brunette took your daughter tightly in her arms and clasped her before you leaned in her side. She out a protective arm around you and accompanied you to the ambulance with the help of a paramedic.

You were a fighter.

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ghostfacesvalentine · 3 years

Text

Ten steps ahead - Scott Lang x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Scott Lang x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of negative body image, sad reader, can get into some touchy subjects but nothing too severe.

Type: One shot

Request: *whispers* can you make a comforting scott lang fic where the reader is on their period and is sad for no reason. Sorry i just want comfort bye!(maybe that one giant ant lays with them on the couch like a dog while they watch sad animal memes)

Word Count: 1,790

Prompt: Scott Lang (baby) Comforts reader that’s on their period

Notes: Girl I feel you, this is actually the cutest request I’ve gotten. I didn’t get to add the big boi but I hope you liked this! I certainly enjoyed writing it. I want me a Scott when I get like this.

This always happens, when the time comes around to this lovely time of the month: mood drops, bloating, stomach aches, body aches really and not to mention, your self esteem seemed to plummet lower than the titanic.

You’ve been spending more and more time with Scott after his run in at the airport. There had been plenty of back and forth with you and him about the whole situation, though you knew the job he took up would endanger him from time to time, the experience still didn’t soothe your nerves. Thankfully after the airport incident Scott decided to stay low and only alternate between Cassie and the studio you were staying at with him and Luis.

Scott has always been great about picking up on small things, making sure you felt at home and cared for. It was no different when you started your period.

The pain at times felt unbearable, your mood definitely changed, you became more sluggish and reserved. Luis even managed to pick up on it. Watching you snuggle up in a few blankets, wearing an oversized sweater, fuzzy socks and avoiding making much movement, he began to familiarize himself with these actions during these few days every month.

“What’s up with Y/N?” He’d ask Scott when you wouldn’t be your usual self, to which Scott would just sigh and roll his eyes at the obliviousness of Luis.

This week was no different, you felt sluggish again, bloated. Passing by the mirror after you showered was no help either. You caught a glimpse of yourself, then stared a bit too long for your liking.

Of course, as it did at times, it sent you down a spiral, you began to overanalyze your body, parts of your body that were normal, stretch marks, bumps, cuts, bruises, discoloration, it seemed you were looking at yourself with a microscope until eventually Scott’s voice snapped you out of it.

“Y/N?” He called out from the hallway, the sound of bags rustling came along with his voice. You looked up frowning not knowing exactly what to say at first. “Yeah? I’m in here.” You tended to take longer showers in hopes of making yourself feel better, the heat of the water relieved some of the muscle ache. There was also hope that after the shower it would alleviate some of the sluggishness and grossness that you’d feel throughout the day.

Scott knew your ritual, he felt the warmth of the now-steaming bathroom from the hallway he stepped through. “I brought take out, I don’t know, I didn’t ask but- what’s wrong?” His smile shifting to a pout as you looked up to him, wrapped in a towel and headed towards the closet.

You didn’t know what was wrong, or more like, you didn’t know how to express it or even process it, but Scott seemed to be ten steps ahead of you.

Your eyes just gloomed over to his for a few seconds, it surely didn’t take longer than three for him to catch on. His pout remained, he always told you he wished he could help you more with the pain and the certain ickiness you tended to feel.

You had to admit, Scott was great, he was the best actually when it came to comforting you. Maybe it was because he had a daughter or maybe this was just second nature to him, either way you tried your best to keep him from feeling your wrath while you were menstruating.

“Oh. Well, get dressed, I know reheated food doesn’t taste the best.” Scott raised the bags gathered at his hands and just like that he disappeared into the living room. You always hated this part, getting ready after a warm shower, everything stuck onto you.

Tonight was no different, there was no way your clothes were going to show you any mercy whether you were bleeding or not. You slipped into a t shirt that fit you two sizes too big and somehow your hair managed to get tangled at the neck part of it. You growled in annoyance, it was no secret you were incredibly fussy, which only opted the men to exchange glances to each other from the living room they all ate at.

Sliding into the piece of clothing eventually, here came the most annoying part, the leggings and the socks. Sometimes they’d have a hard time sliding up when your legs were damp, no matter how many times you dragged the towel across your skin.

After what seemed like twenty attempts, you hissed in annoyance and tossed your socks aside a bit too hard. The sound of the pair of tiny socks hitting the cabinet across from you echoed through the bathroom.

Nobody knew what you were exactly up to, but the sound of something hitting a surface was enough to have everyone look to each other, The apartment wasn’t huge by any means, but when things would fall or hit any surface, sometimes it could be heard down the hall or even at the kitchen. Since there was nothing playing in the background while they inhaled their dinner, your frustration was taken into notice.

It was maybe Luis that was getting worried about you, Scott agreed that you were taking too long but it was obvious no one else was going to go check on you. Scott was the one encouraged to see how you were doing, which he would’ve done even if he wasn’t volunteered to do so.

“Y/n?” He asked as he walked up the hallway toward the bathroom, knocking on the door. You didn’t respond which only left him to worry more. “Y/n? I’m coming in, are you alright?”

You greeted him with watery eyes of frustration, you usually weren’t like this all the time but maybe today was just a really bad day. You made your attempts to have a nice relaxing day, but here you were on the floor, with your underwear holding a sticky pad that felt like a diaper, unable to put your socks and leggings on.

“Oh y/n.” Scott cooed, he tried to suppress his laugh, in hopes of not making worse. Walking over to you as you lowered your head, with hot tears streaming down your face. You couldn’t help it and Scott knew it. Although it was silly, he knew it wasn’t your fault.

There was not a word you could say, you knew your voice would quiver and it would send you down a spiral of emotions. Usually at times like this, one small sad thought would snowball into a bundle of depressing thoughts that maybe hadn’t crossed your mind in a while.

Scott didn’t hesitate to lean down and help you get your socks on, his touch was so gentle it made you want to curl onto him. You looked to him as his face puzzled when it came to your leggings.

“Well no wonder you can’t get them on sweetheart, are these new?” You couldn’t even whimper out a yes, only wiping your face with the back of your arm you nodded when Scott looked to you for a response. “I can’t even tell which one is the backside and which ones the front, it doesn’t even have a tag.”

You couldn’t help but giggle when you gazed into his frustrated look. “I have some shorts that are too small on me, we can figure out this pant situation later, come on.” Scott tossed the pair of leggings over his shoulder. Before he could stand, he looked to you, who although erupted a small laugh, still sat on the bathroom floor sulking.

It was then that you felt his arms slide from under you, hooking you from under your knees and your backside, he lifted you up with a grin in hopes that it would reflect onto you and admittedly it kind of did.

After you changed into the shorts Scott promised you, you were out and into the living room, everyone made the effort to not acknowledge what just happened, instead they focused on their phones, computer, TV or food. It was only Scott that greeted you and made you a spot on the couch.

He even brought you the two fluffiest blankets he could find, enough for you to cocoon yourself if you wanted to. You pulled your legs up towards your chest as you looked to the TV, it was Diehard that was playing on the screen, mostly as background noise to avoid hearing your irritated fit in the bathroom.

“Did you want to change the channel? We’re not really watching that.” Scott scoffed as he looked around the room. “Are there any cartoons we could watch?” You felt like a child, especially in a room full of people who had gotten away with crimes and all sorts of trouble, though you knew they weren’t violent per say.

When you were in pain or in any kind of miserable mood, cartoons, especially from your childhood, seemed to comfort you rather quickly. Scott knew this and it was a form of remedy for him as well, so he didn’t hesitate to fulfill your request.

It didn’t come as a surprise to him, he was happy to oblige, he’d be lying if he said him and Luis didn’t enjoy a few reruns of a few cartoons from their childhood.

You sat there in your cozy nest as Scott changed the channels, you took a few bites from your take out, it was still warm and fresh, just as Scott would hope. He truly was great, even with everything going on in the world and working with the avengers now, he still made the effort to make sure you were okay. Whether you were on your period or not, Scott was super attentive, even that would be an understatement.

He never suffocated you, maybe when you’d have pillow fights, or when he smothered you in blankets, but he wasn’t helicoptering over you.

A few hours passed and you both only shifted around to get into a more comfortable position, but neither of you had stood up since you sat down.

You and Scott didn’t give it much thought, he was sitting there, throughout the cartoon marathon he managed to scoot closer to you and you made your way to lean over towards him. His body was much warmer than the arm of the couch, not to mention more comfortable too.

Scott was even reaching over for your drink, bringing it up to your face so you didn’t have to take your hands out of your blanket, it was really the only time his eyes would leave the screen.

It was an odd site, but cute nevertheless.

#Scott Lang #Antman #Scott Lang x Reader #Marvel one shot #Marvel x reader #Marvel Imagines

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expectingtofly · 4 years

Text

dean/cas fic

~2k

also posted on ao3

How to Say I Love You with Socks

Another movie night in the Dean-Cave. Dean and Castiel took up their usual spaces on the couch, Dean on one end, Castiel on the other. Close, but not close enough. Dean didn’t know how to change that. He was just happy they were together and alive. Their lives had been chaos lately—rushing from hunt to hunt, Castiel running low on grace. This night was their first chance in weeks to take a breath.

Halfway through The Untouchables, though, Dean realized Castiel didn't look quite so relaxed. He had pulled his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs.

“You alright, Cas?” he asked.

Frowning, Castiel pulled his eyes from the TV. “It seems that since my grace is diminished, I can’t regulate my body temperature as well.” A shiver hitched his shoulders.

“You’re cold,” Dean realized. Grabbing a blanket, he slid closer to drape it over Castiel’s shoulders. “Here.”

Contentment spread across Castiel’s face as he wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. His shoulders relaxed and he smiled at Dean. “Thank you.”

Dean realized his hand was still resting on Castiel’s back and he pulled it away. “Of course.” Tearing his eyes away from the sight Castiel made, cozy and warm, he retreated back to his side of the couch.

When the movie ended, Dean let the credits play, not wanting to hasten the inevitable moment when they both got up and went to their separate rooms. In the black screen he could see their reflections, two shapes on either side of the couch, wide distance between them. There was always so much space between them, but he was too hesitant to close it, afraid he'd cross a line, ruin a friendship, a happy night.

Sighing, he turned off the TV and the room went silent. They headed back to the hallway where the doors to their bedrooms stood.

“Goodnight,” Castiel said when they reached Dean’s door. He started to walk away, still holding the blanket around himself, and Dean realized Castiel's feet were bare.

“Wait a moment,” he said. Going into his room, he rummaged through his dresser. “Take these,” he said, returning to where Castiel stood in the doorway and handing him a pair of his warmest socks, thick wool. “Put them on.”

Dutifully, Castiel did so. “They're very warm," he said with a happy sigh, looking down at his socked feet.

“Keep them,” Dean said. They stood there for a moment longer in the doorway, until Dean stepped back. "Well, goodnight," he said, wishing he knew how to put into words what he really wanted to say.

“Goodnight.”

Maybe it was Castiel's content sigh that Dean was thinking of when he was running errands the next day. Maybe he was thinking of the words he hadn't been able to say last night or any night. Maybe that’s why when he saw a pair of fuzzy socks, he decided to buy them.

He felt sheepish putting the socks on the cashier conveyor belt. “They’re for my niece,” he lied when the cashier picked them up to scan them, feeling like he, a grown man, should have an appropriate excuse for buying yellow socks covered in tiny bees. The cashier only gave him a glance, seemingly not interested in the slightest.

He felt even more embarrassed when he found Castiel in the map room back at the bunker and gave him the socks. But Castiel's reaction was worth it.

“I love them,” Castiel breathed, taking them from Dean. Quickly, he pulled off Dean’s wool socks and pulled on the new ones. Dean had to smile at the way he wiggled his toes in the yellow socks and smiled up at him.

An urge filled him to bend down and press a kiss to Castiel’s lips, but instead he contented himself with patting Castiel on the shoulder. "You're welcome."

There had always been something unspoken between him and Castiel. Something unbreakable tying them together over the years as they grew closer and grew apart, fought and found their way back to each other. Castiel had once called it their “profound bond," but Dean didn't know what that meant in practical terms. He had tried calling Castiel a friend, had tried calling him a brother. Neither of those words seemed enough.

The next time Dean saw a pair of fuzzy socks, he bought them… and the time after that, and the time after that, and so on. He created a whole family of aunts and nieces and a mother and cousins with which to explain his purchases to cashiers. Castiel soon had a whole drawer designated for socks. Striped socks, polka dotted socks, fluffy socks, fuzzy socks, red socks, blue socks.

Buying them for Castiel seemed such a small gesture, but they always made Castiel smile. Maybe it wasn’t so small after all.

And maybe Castiel understood what Dean meant when he gave him a new pair of socks. Because one night when their movie ended and they made their way back to their rooms, Castiel paused in the hallway. “Can I… Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Dean forgot how to speak for a moment, nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course,” he managed.

They didn’t speak as they lay down and pulled up the covers. His heart pounding, Dean turned off the lamp on his nightstand and settled down. He could feel Castiel's arm against his, felt Castiel shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“A little,” Castiel admitted and shifted, his socked foot brushing Dean’s foot, soft cotton.

After a moment’s hesitation, Dean wrapped his arm around him. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said, sliding closer to Dean. “Much better.”

They began sleeping next to each other every night, moving closer and closer until they lay in each other’s arms. After years of yearning looks, they had progressed to something more tangible, though Dean didn’t know what to call this new development. He didn’t know what would happen if he tried to voice it, tried to give it a name. Castiel still shivered when he walked through the bunker. Dean bought him more socks.

Socks made of wool and cotton, socks that shed, socks that soon became threadbare around the heel, socks stained with blood after hunts.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said after one such hunt where they discovered a vampire nest. He dropped his hand from where he’d held it over Dean’s arm. The gash from Dean’s elbow to wrist had stitched itself together slowly, the angry, red scar fading somewhat, though it still stung fiercely. “I wish I could do more.”

“You did more than enough,” Dean said, taking his hand as Castiel pulled him to his feet. His chest still felt tight, his hands shaky from the close call. Castiel had used his depleting grace to take down two vampires going after Sam, and Dean saw the exhaustion in his eyes, thought they must mirror his own.

Sam walked through the barn, counting how many vampires they had killed. “You guys good?” he called. When Dean nodded, he stepped outside the barn, out of view. Dean realized he was still holding Castiel's hand, slick with blood.

“Are you sure you're alright?” he asked, looking back at Castiel. Castiel nodded and a smudge of blood on his chin drew Dean’s eyes. Hesitantly, Dean wiped at it with his thumb. Then he let his hand stay there, cupping Castiel’s face, his eyes trailing over the soft lines of Castiel’s mouth.

“Dean,” Castiel said quietly, and Dean realized he was holding his breath. Before he could lose his courage, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Castiel's, a feather-light touch. The tightness in his chest unfurled when Castiel lifted a hand to his face and pressed their mouths closer together, soft but insistent.

“We should’ve done that years ago," Castiel whispered when slowly they broke apart and met each other's eyes.

Dean let out a shaky breath. "Yes, we should've."

Sam called for them to hurry up and, still breathless, Dean let go of Castiel's hand. Castiel looked down at his clothes, trench coat dirty and bloody. “These were new,” he complained, pulling up his pant leg to gesture to his socks—light blue dotted with stitched white clouds, now stained dark red.

Dean laughed, his head light. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

Socks Castiel wore on movie nights, socks Castiel tried to get Dean to wear, socks Castiel picked out, pointing to different ones in the store and Dean placing them in the cart. Holiday themed socks, movie themed socks, socks with tiny animals, socks with garish, gaudy colors that Dean pretended to hate. Castiel didn't shiver anymore. Dean kept buying him socks.

“How much of our budget is going towards socks?” Sam asked them when they returned from the grocery store with yet another pair. (Had Dean realized before now that grocery stores sold socks? No, but it seemed he was now a magnet for them.)

“Credit card fraud, Sam,” Dean said, restocking the fridge. “It’s other people’s money.”

“And these are special,” Castiel said, sitting down at the kitchen table to pull them on. “They’re ‘spa socks infused with lotion.’”

“Spa socks?” Sam asked, looking at Dean, not bothering to hide the smile on his face.

“Shut up,” Dean said. He was pretty sure Sam knew about him and Castiel—there was a particular look in his eyes when they came into the kitchen together in the mornings, when they left for long rides in Baby. He didn't mind that Sam knew, but he didn’t want to speak of it yet; this blossoming offshoot of the bond between him and Castiel still felt so new, so light. He was almost afraid it would collapse like a pyramid of cards if he spoke too loudly, tried to define it. He told himself he was just happy it existed.

Mismatched socks, blue and green stripes on Castiel’s left foot and corgis on his right, as he and Dean walked through a Walmart. Castiel refused to throw out any socks, even when he lost one to the dryer, or wherever socks disappeared to—hence the mismatched pairs. Or maybe he mismatched them on purpose; maybe he hadn’t figured out adult humans always match their socks. Either way, Dean never mentioned it because it was, he had to admit, a pretty adorable habit.

He was looking down the store aisles, trying to figure out where the toilet paper was, when Castiel said, “Wait, look!” and veered off to the left.

“What?—oh.” Dean caught sight of the rack of socks Castiel was headed towards. “Cas, you have an obsession.”

“That is completely your fault.” Castiel stopped in front of the rack and scanned the footwear.

Dean was about to point out a pair— actually, Cas might already own those, he thought—when Castiel inhaled sharply. “Look at these.”

Dean turned to see what he was pointing at. Slippers. Large, plushy, yellow and black striped slippers with eyes and antennas to show that they were bees. Bee slippers.

They were atrocious.

Castiel reached out and squeezed one of the slippers in his hands. “There’s two pairs, we can match.”

The smile he turned on Dean was teasing, to show he wasn’t expecting Dean to say yes. Which was smart, because Dean was not going to say yes.

But then Castiel added, “That is something couples do, isn’t it? Match with each other?” and Dean’s heart skipped a beat.

Castiel had called them a couple. Had spoken of them, together. Dean hadn't realized how badly he'd wanted to hear them, their relationship, acknowledged. And suddenly, when spoken aloud, this blossoming thing, this growing relationship between them, didn't seem so tenuous, in danger of collapse. It felt weightier, like it was built to last.

Castiel dropped his hand from the slippers, and Dean knew a few years ago he would’ve told Castiel that only nauseatingly cute, annoying couples wore matching slippers. Now he knew what he really wanted to say, knew exactly what to call the bond between them.

He pulled the slippers off the rack. “Yes, they do,” he said. “When they’re in love and want everyone to know it.”

"In love," Castiel repeated, blue eyes searching Dean's.

Dean smiled. "Yes."

A tiny part of him wanted to curl up in embarrassment when they brought the slippers to check out, but a greater part of him prompted him, instead, to lace his fingers with Castiel’s and kiss him on the forehead. Castiel smiled up at him. The bee slippers eyed him from the plastic shopping bag. The cashier said, “That’ll be $21.39.”

And when Dean and Castiel padded into the kitchen the next morning in their matching, beady-eyed, lopsided antenna slippers, Dean didn’t even mind the stifled laughter they were met with from Sam.

“You’re just jealous,” Dean said, threading his arm around Castiel’s waist and pulling him close. “They’re very comfortable.”

“And very warm,” Castiel added. He tapped his slippered foot against Dean’s, like the bees were kissing, and Sam pretended to gag. Smiling, Dean tapped Castiel's slipper back, then kissed him for real.

Tag List: @spnwaywardone @good-things-do-happen-dean @becky-srs @xojo @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @marvelnaturalock @letsjustdieeveryone

Let me know (message, ask, comment) if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list for future destiel fics :)

#deancas fic #destiel #so much fluff #mutual pining #spncreatorsdaily #dean and cas need to use their words #first kiss #cas is a sockaholic #expectingtoflywrites

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eberles · 4 years

Text

See You Soon

Jamie Benn

a/n: i originally wrote the first part as a blurb, so if it seems familiar that’s why! @bestestbenn asked for a part 2 so i combined both parts to make 1! enjoy! :)

synopsis: jamie, your boyfriend, leaves for the bubble and returns at the end of the season.

warnings: sad goodbye (there’s a happy ending), all lowercase lol

you didn’t realize how hard it would be to watch jamie leave for the bubble. he would be gone for months and you weren’t allowed to go with him, of course you knew it would be difficult but watching him pack his suitcase for the event was already inflicting on you. you were sitting on your shared bed, your back against the headboard, while you watched your boyfriend pack away his clothes and other belongings. you felt your heart strings pulling as you watched the man you love put everything he owned into a going away bag.

“i’m gonna be home before you know it.” jamie spoke, as if he could read your mind or maybe he could see how this was affecting you physically. you sighed, nodding your head agreeing with him and feeling a slight panic when you saw him pull your favorite hoodie of his out of the closet.

“would it be alright if i borrowed your sweater? it smells like you.” you scooted closer to where his suitcase was on the edge of the bed, reaching for his sweatshirt and looking up at him with pleading eyes. jamie smiled, handing you the sweater before cupping your cheeks and giving you a sweet kiss. you pulled the sweater over your head immediately after you separated from his lips and moved back to your original spot, continuing to watch him. jamie was leaving very early the next morning so after he was finished packing the two of you crawled into bed. your boyfriend was notorious for being able to fall asleep almost immediately while you on the other hand could be up for hours, especially tonight knowing you would be parted tomorrow.

“stop being a blanket hog baby.” jamie groaned, stirring from his sleep trying to pry the blankets from your grip and you just scoffed looking over at him.

“if you steal the blankets, i'm going to put my cold feet on you.” jamie opened his eyes more to look at you and let go of the blankets, not wanting to feel the wrath of your cold feet like he usually has to deal with. instead he moved closer to you, pulling you tighter to his chest wrapping his arms around you so the blanket was evenly across both of you. you felt a weight being slightly lifted from your chest once you were close to jamie again and you ended up falling asleep almost immediately.

the morning came all too soon, and you were woken up to jamie shuffling across your bedroom. you fluttered your eyes open, watching him put some of his last minute things in the front pocket of his suitcase. you stretched and sat up in bed, your movements gaining jamie’s attention. “good morning you.”

you smiled returning the gesture and noticing the clock on your dresser showing that you should’ve woken up half an hour ago. you scolded jamie for turning your alarm off but he just shrugged insisting you needed your rest, which you were thankful for. after you got ready as quickly as possible the two of you were off to the airport.

“baby, it’s time.” jamie spoke, already knowing you weren’t allowed past security unless you had a boarding ticket. you nodded, feeling the tears pooling in your eyes and you looked up at your very handsome boyfriend, smiling as widely as you could. “you are so beautiful - so fucking beautiful.”

you laughed at his words rolling your eyes, “jamie, love, you gave me 10 minutes to get ready, my hair looks like a rats nest.”

“a gorgeous rats nest.” jamie said proudly, putting his arms around your back and pulling you flush against him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you guys hugged for a while before he pulled away slightly and moved your mask bending down to kiss you. “i’ll see you soon, i love you.”

“i love you.” you watched him walk through security and down the large hallway to his boarding area and you stayed until you couldn’t see him anymore. the tears were falling freely and you didn’t even care, your mask hiding most of it anyways. see you soon.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

the last 3 or so months went by terribly slow, everyday felt the same. wake up, go to work, watch netflix, go to bed, and miss jamie. you guys talked everyday, sometimes he would facetime you before the game but usually it was after when he was back in his hotel room. on game days you made sure to send a good luck and i love you text. on the off days you updated him on everything that was happening at home and work. even with the everyday facetimes you missed him more than anything, you guys had a routine before he left and you were both so comfortable in it that having him gone for 3 months was extremely difficult. no matter how hard it was or how much you missed your boyfriend you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. jamie was playing the game he loved, the game he was born to play, the game he kicked ass at. the stars made it the farthest they’ve made it in so many years and you were so proud of him and his team, nothing could change that. today’s the day! jamie was coming home today, in exactly 30 minutes to be exact. you just arrived at the airport a few minutes ago and you were waiting by the gate where his plane would be letting people off. you were surprisingly nervous, even after 2 years of dating, your leg was bouncing and you kept fidgeting in your chair getting restless from waiting.

just landed!

the vibration of your phone made you jump a little shaking you from your thoughts and you smiled to yourself at the text. he’s here, you were finally able to see him again. another 10 minutes went by before you saw the dark haired man walking passed the gates. you noticed him immediately, jumping out of your chair and running towards him. jamie saw you coming and dropped his bags holding his arms open waiting for you to run into them like in the movies. it wasn’t as seamless as you’d seen on tv, but it was pretty romantic in your eyes. you kept into his arms wrapping your legs around his waist letting him lift you off the ground. you clung onto to jamie’s tall figure, your neck buried in his neck inhaling his scent, the one you’d been deprived of for 3 months. the sweatshirt he left you lost it’s scent pretty soon after jamie left and the day you noticed it was very emotional for you.

“are you crying?” jamie grinned, putting you down gently, cupping your cheeks. you laughed, pulling your mask down and wiping your tears away. jamie took the opportunity to pull his own mask down and kiss you passionately. you don’t know how long you stood there kissing, but it got heated and you forced yourself to pull away from your boyfriend remembering you were in a crowded airport. “let’s go home.”

jamie grabbed your hand, holding his other suitcase in his other hand and led you through the airport towards where your car was parked. you could see it on jamie’s face that he was exhausted from traveling, the constant string of games, and the unfortunate loss the stars had taken just a few days prior. jamie rested his hand on your thigh as your drove squeezing it every now and then for comfort.

“i missed you baby.” jamie looked over at you, leaning over the center console to press a kiss to your cheek.

“i missed you so much.” you gushed, smiling at the gesture, resting your hand on top of his. the drive went by quick the two of you making small talk, you mostly sharing stories about work and everything that happened while jamie was gone. “you wanna go to bed when we get home?”

jamie nodded, mumbling something about needing a shower first. once you got home, jamie got ready for his shower while you started to unpack his things for him. “you wanna join me?”

jamie didn’t ask in a sexual way and you knew that he just wanted to be close to you after being parted for so long. you agreed, getting in the shower with him letting him wash your hair and taking turns under the warm water. jamie was yawning constantly so you wrapped the shower up as quick as possible, both of you changing into the comfiest clothes you owned and wrapping yourselves up in a pile of blankets on your bed. jamie opened up to you about losing the cup and how hard that had been for him and you gave him the reassurance he needed.

“i’m so happy to be home.” jamie mumbled just loud enough for you to hear in his almost sleep state. his head was laying on your chest and his arms were wrapped around your back. you had your hands in his hair massaging his scalp knowing it soothes him and shortly after his breathing was heavier indicating he fell asleep in your arms. you couldn’t be more happier.

#jamie benn #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn imagines #dallas stars #nhl writing

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thelastpilot · 4 years

Text

Empty Chairs- A DJWifi Fic

This is one of my finished commissions for the amazing charity even @mlbforblm with a 3k fic commissioned under the request for ‘DJWifi hurt comfort’. If you would like to commission something from me as well before this event concludes please go here to check out my slots! Please donate to this great cause and get a fic from yours truly.~~

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Nino’s house was full of noise, usually. It was four people, but it always seemed like more than that. There were always songs playing in different rooms at different times so it would feel like loading into a new area in a video game every time you turned a corner. There was always cooking or bickering or talking happening at nearly every hour, punctuated by singing or rambling, or anything really. The Lahiffe’s loved noise, or at the very least they were certainly good at it.

But today the only noise came from Chris.

Nino’s little brother was playing in the living room, like he usually did. He was sprawled out on every surface like a bird making a nest, every single object that he thought might be necessary to his entertainment strewn around him. His radius was getting wider with every minute, happily pulling down colorful blankets from the couch to add this his secular chaos.

He didn’t pay much mind to the quiet of the house, he knew where everyone was if he thought he might need them. At most he might have noticed that no one was stopping him today, and his play time was not interrupted by the demand to clean up or quiet down. He didn’t see his parents much, both of them drifting past to check on him every once in a while, asking him if he needed something in subdued voices. The most he saw of his mother was the once or twice she came in to watch, looking over him silently as he involved himself in his games.

She would come up to him sometimes, running her hands through his hair and holding him close. For the most part though she was distant, but he didn’t mind that so much.

He never saw Nino at all, aware of the fact that he must be home but not seeing him. Chris pouted a little when he noticed this, prepared to barge in when the stilted nature of the house was broken by a sudden, perky knock at the door.

The door remained shut for awhile long than was usual, despite the fact that Alya could clearly hear Chris yelling his head off to announce someone was there. She was alone in the hallway but she rolled her eyes nonetheless, sighing deeply but still smiling a little.

Chris was loud, all the time. It was one of Nino’s primary complaints about him, although she knew how much he loved him. Thinking of her boyfriend she smiled again, feeling pretty pleased with her spontaneous decision to drop in. She had been nearby and liked the idea of dragging him out with her, coming by unannounced on a weekend. She was in the midst of imagining what their impromptu date night might look like when the door finally opened, revealing the kind, withdrawn face of Nino’s mother.

“Oh, hello sweetheart,” Mrs. Lahiffe greeted her, a polite smile gracing her face. “Nino hadn’t told me you were coming over.”

“He doesn’t know,” Alya announced with a sly smile, “I just happened to be nearby and thought I might come by, if that’s okay. I was hoping to drag him out somewhere anyways.”

To her surprise, his mother stalled, her polite smile falling slightly into gentle concern. “Oh, he didn’t know you were coming?” She paused, and the way she looked over her shoulder made Alya hesitate slightly. When she looked back her expression was extraordinarily gentle, finally saying, “Actually, I’m not sure he is in the mood for visitors honey. Well I suppose I can ask, I know you came all the way up here…” she paused again, mulling it over.

“O-oh well, um,” Alya stuttered, surprised at the turn. “I hadn’t realized it was a bad time, I didn’t mean to-,”

“Let me ask,” Mrs. Lahiffe interrupted her, smiling kindly again but… Alya noticed this time that it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe he wants the company. Just wait here, okay?”

“Yeah sure, no problem,” Alya was quick to agree, trading a slight nod with her before she gently shut the door again.

A slight rebuff like that, as kind as it possible could have been, was still cause for overthinking. Alya couldn’t help but feel a little stupid suddenly, wishing she had shot him a text of some kind. It was too late now though, but she wasn’t kept waiting for long before the door opened again and Nino was looking out at her.

Before he could even speak, Alya’s heart hesitated in its beat. She always considered herself observant, especially with things she knew very well. It only took a fraction of a second for her to recognize Nino’s subdued expression. The kind that came on with quiet moments alone where he thought himself into a spiral. It was so subtle, just the way his smile touched his eyes just barely. The way he tilted his head, how his voice carried when he greeted her.

“Hey baby,” he said after seemingly forever in her mind, though it was only an instant. As he looked at her, his smile became a little easier. “I didn’t know you were coming. If you texted me I’m sorry I- I wasn’t ghosting you I’m just not looking at my phone.”

“No I um, I didn’t really give a heads up I was just nearby.” She paused, about to say something more when he stepped to the side.

“Come on in, my rooms a mess but I know you don’t care.”

“I don’t have to,” she quickly gave him, stopping him as he had already been turning to head inside. “If it’s a bad time.”

“Nah,” was all he said.

They sat in his room somewhat quietly, Nino filling the time with aimless chitchat. He was barely paying attention to what he said, seeming tired and distracted to her. His room was about as cluttered as it usually was, clothes and controllers hanging around but swiftly shoved to the side when he realized there was nowhere to sit really.

She couldn’t help how closely she watched him, waiting only long enough for a break in his rambling to ask, “Babe, is everything okay?”

He had been standing by his bed when she finally got it out, his back to her as she sat in his computer chair. She focused on the way his shoulders… stilled, and then purposefully relaxed, analyzing his expression when he turned to face her.

“Yeah, it’s good.” He hesitated. “Why?” he asked a beat too late, meeting her eyes after another moment too long.

“Well… I know I kind of just swung in. Your mom mentioned that you might not be in the mood for visitors. And you haven’t texted me all day, I mean I just assumed you were working but…” she trailed off intentionally, hoping he might fill in.

To her surprise he frowned slightly. “Did she say that?” He scanned her eyes and found some kind of affirmative, nodding to himself. He turned away and fussed with his bed for a second.

He only waited for awhile more before he sighed, sitting on the mattress.

“Yeah,” he finally muttered aloud, surprising her again with its heaviness. Nino ran a hand over his face, displacing his glasses and sighed heavily, like the effort of the thin performance he had managed was extraordinary and taxing.

Alya’s reaction was instant, crossing the space and climbing on the bed, her heart starting to race as he leaned into her, letting her hold him without complaint or comment. He sagged into her, breathing deeply like he was gathering his resolve.

“Babe what is it?” Alya pressed again, trying to be patient but so caught off guard by it that she felt that urgent need to correct it. They had been together for a long time though, and she knew that pushing wouldn’t work.

Nino sighed. And was quiet for awhile.

After a few minutes he sat up slightly, staring forward at nothing, she thought.

He could be so motionless sometimes… when he was wrapped up in something she couldn’t even picture. It was so rare to see him like this. Anger and disappointment were more common with him, though he let so much roll off his back in general. She knew how to handle that the same way he knew how to handle her difficult moments.

But she almost never knew what to do when he felt so far away from her, still and subdued.

She waited for a long time, before suddenly, he apologized.

“I’m sorry Al,” he finally gave her, his voice low and heavy. “I feel like somehow you’re gonna be mad at me.”

“Mad?” she responded, waiting for him to look at her but it didn’t come, he just kept looking forward. She traced his eyeline to his desk, where she noticed for the first time his red baseball cap lay discarded. She hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t wearing it. She looked between him and the hat, saying again when he seemed content to say nothing, “What would I be mad about?”

He was quiet again, and she forced herself to breathe, demanding of herself that she be patient. He took a deep breath as well, and she could feel him absently running his hand against her back.

“There’s some stuff I’ve never mentioned to you. We’ve been dating for years now, now that I think about it… it’s fucking crazy that I never said anything. I should have, I don’t know why I didn’t. It’s just hard, and old. But you don’t even know and I hate that but I was the one who didn’t say it so- fuck.” He paused, putting his face in his hand again, taking off his glasses entirely now and setting them aside. His voice filled with emotion as the words got faster, cutting off abruptly when he stopped himself, like a dam on a river.

Alya just waited, knowing that he had momentum now. She watched him carefully as he prepared himself for something. And when he took his hand away from his face he looked pained, and then frustrated, and then far away again. Distant.

The moment hung in the air between them…

The sun had started its slow descent at much the same time Alya had arrived, the light of it so bright against the prevailing face of Nino’s apartment building that his room had been ablaze with it, and he had felt no need to turn on his light. With that forgotten and the sun pitching low, sinking beyond the threshold of the tall buildings of Paris, the space was abruptly dim… the fire of sunset shrinking up his walls and vanishing from his face. In that dim light he was still… staring ahead and seeing nothing much.

Nothing but an old hat that looked dull in the shade.

“I have an older brother.”

When he finally spoke, his voice was even but quiet… anchoring himself to Alya’s presence besides him even if he couldn’t look at her just then.

Nino took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Willing himself to continue.

“Today would have been his birthday. He died awhile ago, probably. I guess we don’t really know, but he was never found and he never came back. I don’t think he would ever just disappear on his own, it wouldn’t have been like him. He loved us and we had a happy home, it wasn’t like he would run away. He wouldn’t take off on me.” He paused, and then took another deep breath, taking time to steel himself. “There was a pretty big age gap between us, my parents had married young and they had him right away, they didn’t decide to have me until after they moved to Paris. So I was eleven when he disappeared. Mom was pregnant with Chris when it happened. He wasn’t born until five months later.”

He still couldn’t look at Alya… but he focused on the way she held him tighter, reaching on hand to lightly touch the locks of her hair that spilled over her shoulder.

They were soft, and he could picture the color of the ends with perfect recall.

He had her memorized.

“… what was his name?”

When she spoke it was so gentle, careful and full of concern. His heart finally hit an uneven pace, his fingers curled in her hair.

“Noah.”

“…what was he like?”

“You aren’t-…,” Nino hesistated, finally opening his eyes and turning his head, still not quite looking at her. “You aren’t angry?”

“Why would I be angry with you?” She pulled away from him slightly, but he moved to hold her still so quickly it was like the reflex of a child learning how to swim. ‘Don’t move away from me yet I can’t do it on my own.’

He couldn’t look her in the eye, so he settled for watching her lips, wondering how she wasn’t scowling like he expected. Just tight, concerned.

“It’s a big thing.”

“It’s a personal thing.”

“I still should have said something to you. You came along after he was gone but… he’s still my family. I should have shared him with you I just… couldn’t. I didn’t know what to say.”

Alya touched his chin, steering his eyes up and looking through him, it felt like.

He always got so quiet and distant. But she could see him hiding there, behind even tones and trailing sentences. He was pretending like it was all okay and a long time ago and thinking about it didn’t change anything and crying doesn’t bring him back and its been too long Nino just let it go he isn’t coming back things change all at once and they don’t go back-

And she was holding his face, saying his name and pulling him towards her, letting him collapse into her.

He clung to her like his swimming lesson had gone to the deep end… it was dark and deep and he didn’t know how to do it yet.

He hated how he was always going to feel like a little kid, waiting for his big brother to come home.

Alya knew to let him go quiet, just holding him tightly. The house was still too, except for the energetic play of a little boy who didn’t realize he was missing anything.

It was during one of Chris’ loud bellows that Nino sighed, speaking again somewhat bitterly.

“I hate that Chris never met him. We’ve told him about Noah but it doesn’t mean much to him. How can you teach a kid to miss somebody? What’s even the point of trying… would it be better somehow if he missed him too?” Nino leaned into Alya heavily, staring at his hands. “It bothers me when he draws pictures of his family and Noah isn’t in them. That’s not his fault, but I hate it.”

Alya nodded slowly, glad he was talking again. “My mom said once that loss is hard because it changes everything. She described losing my grandma and she said it wasn’t just her absence. It was how a chair becomes an empty chair.” Alya hesitated slightly, wondering if this was even appropriate to say, but attempting to relate to him somehow. “It must be hard to see it in everything.”

“Empty chairs,” Nino agreed, his tone low. “Empty spots on the couch, full boxes of stuff he used to use every day.” He looked up slightly, drawing her attention again to his hat. “Stuff he used to wear all the time.”

Alya said nothing at first, looking at the old hand-me-down hat and appreciating what it meant to him. She had always known his hat was incredibly important to him, it wasn’t a joke and he never thought it was funny when other people touched it. Now she realized why.

She tried to imagine someone who looked a lot like Nino, but older. Her picture of him was hazy and indistinct, but the hat she pictured on his head made it realer somehow.

“Nino?”

He turned slightly at his name, moving slowly, but eventually looking at her. His expression was soft, and reserved, scanning her face and watching her with some unperceivable emotion.

Alya crafted her words carefully, doing her best to be gentle. “I’m sorry I never got to know him. And I’m sorry you don’t have him. But, maybe you could tell me about him.”

Nino kept staring, but after awhile he smiled slightly. It was a somber image, but there was something nostalgic there too.

“Well I can tell you one thing for sure.”

“What?”

He smiled, tears in his eyes.

“He would have loved you…”

#mlbforblm #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #djwifi #miraculous ladybug #ml #this is based off of a tweet once put out about ninos hat #and i ran with the concept #death tw

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aliciameade · 4 years

Text

Ready Or Not

Title: Ready Or Not Author: aliciameade Rating: E for Every Lady Gets an Orgasm Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: AND THEY WERE QUARANTINED.

Also on AO3

It’s funny, Beca thinks, how you can live with someone for years going about your separate but intertwined lives that when your government tells you to stay inside, to only socialize with the people you share a home with, how quickly things can change.

“Chloe, will you please turn off the news? I can’t listen to that idiot anymore.”

“Sorry; it’s like a train wreck. I can’t look away.” Chloe finds the remote in the cushions of the couch and changes the channel to the E! Network.

The news isn’t much different there; they’re showing videos celebrities have posted on social media about how bored they are or singing off-key versions of ‘Imagine’ to try to uplift the public only for the anchors, two of them standing six-feet apart, to debate whether or not such things are in poor taste.

“Are we supposed to feel bad for these multi-millionaires being stuck in their mansions with their huge yards and private swimming pools?” is the point being argued.

“Yeah, boohoo,” Beca says as she drops onto the couch next to Chloe. She’d gone to the kitchen to get a new bag of chips but managed to make a healthier decision and came back with a bowl of grapes instead. “We don’t even have a pool.”

“But at least we don’t have a bathtub in our kitchen anymore,” Chloe says as she helps herself to a few of Beca’s grapes.

Beca nods in response. This whole social distancing thing would have been a lot more irritating if it had happened last year when she and Chloe shared an impossibly small studio apartment (if you could even call it that) with Fat Amy. The thought of being locked in that space for weeks makes Beca’s skin crawl. She loves Amy, but she is not the tidiest or quietest of roommates.

She glances at Chloe, fresh-faced and hair damp after the shower she just took, tucked into her couch-nest with a fuzzy blanket and thinks there are about a million worse scenarios she could be stuck in than this one.

It had been nice to get that paycheck from Khaled’s record label. It had been just as nice for Amy to get access to the hundred-plus million dollars she somehow had. They were able to part ways without the guilt and drama Amy was prone to when asked to take responsibility for something. She’d been eager to drop a cool ten million on a house in the South of France. It made Beca’s job of breaking the news that she wouldn’t be renewing their lease a lot easier.

She’s still not quite sure how it happened, though. Maybe it was because Chloe was the only one who didn’t suddenly have an unnecessary amount of money at her disposal. Maybe it was because their orbits were always drawn to one another.

But when Beca moved to Los Angeles and bought a house, Chloe rush-applied to area veterinary schools to beat the looming application deadlines and managed to get into one.

They hadn’t even really discussed it. “Beca moving to LA” was inclusive of “Chloe moving to LA to live with Beca.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t post that video of us playing catch out back,” Beca says as they watch the debate about people who are privileged and whether they are out of touch with reality or if hardship and inconvenience is relative.

“Maybe not,” Chloe agrees.

It’s not that Beca thinks she’d ever show up as a debate topic on tabloid television, but she’d rather not risk it.

“What do you want to do today? And don’t say Monopoly,” she adds as soon as Chloe’s mouth opens to answer.

Chloe immediately whines. “But I want us to play!”

“And I want us to still be friends when this is over,” Beca says with a biting, sarcastic smile.

“Ooh, I know!” Chloe says, unfazed by Beca’s rejection. “Let’s get drunk!”

“That’s not really an activity…” Beca says but she knows she’s going to lose this debate.

Chloe’s already detangling herself from her blanket and heading toward the kitchen. “If getting drunk at 3:00 in the afternoon isn’t acceptable during a viral pandemic, then when is it?”

Beca just shakes her head. She’s opposed to the idea, it’s just that Chloe is so...Chloe.

Chloe who usually gets her way, not because she’s a good negotiator but because Beca finds it almost impossible to tell her ‘no.’ (Activities that would lead to contempt and arguing like a game of Monopoly are exceptions.)

“Beer or wine?” Chloe calls from the other room.

“I don’t care,” Beca yells back. If there’s one thing they stocked up on far more than she knows was necessary, it was alcohol.

She should have made a choice. She knows better. When Chloe returns, she’s holding a bottle of expensive tequila, a shot glass nestled in one of two tumblers, and a plastic bowl of ice.

“Oh, whoa, seriously?” she says as Chloe sets her wares down on the smooth black coffee table with a smile. Shots of tequila weren’t exactly what Beca had in mind.

“Calm down, I have to make another trip. I’m making margaritas.”

Not that she wouldn’t have done them if that had been Chloe’s intention.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“You know what we should do?”

Beca looks down at Chloe who’s using Beca’s leg as a pillow. “Hmm?”

“We should play hide-and-seek!”

Beca’s not sure what she expected Chloe to propose, but it definitely wasn’t that. “Dude, what?”

“Yeah!” Chloe says, suddenly full of energy after dozing on the couch for a few minutes. She scrambles to sit up. “Come on; it’ll be fun!”

All she can do is stare at her and her dumb, pretty face. “Fine,” she relents (much too easily).

Chloe squeals and immediately covers her eyes with her hands. “I’ll count to 100. Go.”

Beca’s reluctant agreement morphs into nervous adrenaline as soon as Chloe begins counting and she leaps off the couch, stumbling when her foot gets caught in Chloe’s blanket.

She hears Chloe laugh through her numbers and realizes Chloe can hear her route. She mutes her steps, creeping quickly but quietly away as her mind races for the optimal hiding spot.

Then she’s got it.

She walks as lightly as she can through the house until she’s taking the stairs two at a time to get to what will eventually be an office or study (she hates herself a little that she bought a house that will have a study in it). It’s still empty save for a few dozen books on the shelves, some of them novels, some of them old textbooks. The room has a closet and when Beca had been scoping out good storage spots in the house for things like seasonal decorations, she’d found what was arguably a creepy-as-fuck hidden door in the wall of the closet.

She never got around to telling Chloe about it; she’d been at a day-long lab that Beca didn’t want to interrupt with a text and then she promptly forgot about it.

Until now.

She creeps through the second floor, wincing when she hits a squeaky floorboard in the hallway. The rest of her journey is silent, though, and she pops open the push-latch door to slip inside and close it behind her.

She can hear Chloe’s voice faintly yelling, “Ready or not, here I come!” and regrets not bringing her phone with her.

There’s no way Chloe’s going to find her any time soon. Plus, it’s pitch-dark.

Chloe’s voice echoes around the house, taunting Beca as she searches downstairs. It makes Beca snicker because Chloe is way, way off until she can tell she’s making her way up the stairs.

“You could at least make it difficult for me,” Chloe says somewhere in the hallway, still taunting as if it will goad Beca into revealing herself.

She can hear her opening and closing closet doors in the hall and the other rooms but she remains confident even when she can hear Chloe’s voice quite clearly from the study a few feet away.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Chloe sing-songs and Beca hates that it makes her anxious. Her voice is louder like she’s just outside the door that Chloe doesn’t even know exists when it suddenly pops open, blinding Beca with a flood of light.

“Gotcha!” Chloe says with a jump of victory but Beca’s too quick for her, something her petite stature is good for.

She scrambles out of the closet and past Chloe. “You didn’t tag me!” she yells, grinning as she launches into a full sprint, nearly sliding down the stairs to make it back to the couch in time.

“We didn’t declare a home base!” Chloe shrieks behind her and Beca can hear her running, too.

“It’s the couch!”

“Not fair!” Chloe yells and Beca hears her on the steps.

It makes her launch herself onto the couch, right over the arm of it and she scrambles for the blanket to hide under even though she’s already safe; it’s silly adrenaline and she can’t stop smiling as she hears Chloe in a full-out run through the living room.

“No!” Her cry of defeat is nearly a wail and Beca’s still savoring victory when the wind is nearly knocked out of her.

“Dude!” she says when Chloe lands right on top of her. “I made it back, you can’t tag me!”

She fights to hang on to the blanket as Chloe tugs it away until it’s off her face, leaving Beca to sputter and try to blow hair out of her eyes. She stops when she sees Chloe above her, face flushed from excitement and exertion smiling down at her. But the smile is fading, bit by bit, into something else and it feels like the air around them shifts.

“You cheated,” Chloe says.

Beca has to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. “Not my fault you don’t know the rules.”

She keeps waiting for Chloe to move off her and let her up, to tell her it’s Beca’s turn to count and Chloe’s turn to hide, but instead, Chloe seems to get heavier, to press Beca further into the couch beneath her.

An eternity seems to pass. She struggles to keep her gaze steady; it’s hard to hold eye contact with Chloe in a normal setting: they’re so bright and full of life. It’s a relief when Chloe’s are the first to break eye contact but only until Beca realizes Chloe’s focus shifted, albeit briefly, to her lips.

Her heart had been racing from the excitement of the game and the thrill of the win but suddenly it’s for an entirely different reason.

When Chloe looks up again Beca can’t help but let her own eyes flick down, almost feeling like if Chloe was allowed to, Beca should be allowed to, too. It’s subconscious for Beca to wet her lips when she sees the way Chloe’s are parted the tiniest bit.

Her mind races as quickly as her heart. She’s thought about this so many times over their decade of friendship. The way they’ve always danced around each other (while still dancing with each other all the time). How it wasn’t even up for debate that Chloe would move to Los Angeles, too. How she didn’t hesitate to put the house in both their names, not just her own. How she’s been a little bit (a lot) in love with her friend for so many years.

She wonders if Chloe’s moving closer or if it’s her imagination. If she is, she’s moving so slowly it’s almost indiscernible, but her eyes keep flicking down and back up. It’s excruciating to wait to find out what is about to happen. What Beca thinks is about to happen.

What Beca decides to make happen as she lifts her head and presses her lips to Chloe’s.

It’s another eternal moment but it passes in the blink of an eye.

There’s some kind of sound from Chloe, maybe a whimper?, and Beca’s not quite finished regretting her actions that will surely make things super weird between them when Chloe’s tongue slips across her lips and into Beca’s mouth.

It shouldn’t happen so fast. It shouldn’t be so natural for Beca to tilt her head to the left just as Chloe tilts hers. She shouldn’t feel so hot so quickly; Chloe helps as much as she contributes to it, suddenly tugging at the blanket between them to let it fall to the floor. It gives Beca a second of cool air before Chloe’s body is on her instead. It shouldn’t be so mindless for her to twist her hips and part her knees so Chloe can fit against her more comfortably.

It shouldn’t be a lot of things, but Beca stops listing off all the things it shouldn’t be in favor of all the things it is.

Like how desperate and heated their kiss has become. How Chloe doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands since this began in a slightly awkward position but doesn’t quite want to stop to rearrange herself so instead her fingers bury themselves in Beca’s hair.

Beca doesn’t have the same problem. Her hands are free to roam, and she lets them roam.

Chloe��s back is solid beneath her hands. She can feel it every time Chloe takes a breath. They’re uneven and deep and in synch with Beca’s because the only chance they have to take in air is when Chloe lifts her mouth from Beca’s. Even the few seconds they spare for oxygen feel like too much time apart for Beca and she finds herself chasing Chloe’s lips even though they’re both breathing hard.

She catches Chloe off-guard, cutting into their oxygen break with her tongue. She’s thought endlessly of what it would be like to frame Chloe’s perfect face with her hands, tilt it to the angle she wants, and keep her there to make her submit to whatever Beca wants to do to her mouth.

The moan that escapes Chloe when Beca does just that, tongue pushing far into Chloe’s mouth to explore before retreating to start licking over Chloe’s makes a sound escape Beca, too.

It’s as though the mutual audible release is gasoline to a lit match.

Chloe’s entire body shifts forward into Beca and it makes Beca moan again and give up the brief control she had as Chloe kisses her so hard her head presses uncomfortably against the arm of the couch. Her neck is going to be killing her tomorrow but she doesn’t care. There’s only one thing aching right now and it’s between her legs where Chloe’s hips are resting, though they’re hardly at rest.

Beca doesn’t know at what point they started moving together but her hips are lifting to meet Chloe’s every time Chloe’s rock forward into her.

She parts her knees further until she finally just gives in and hooks her left leg, the one not pinned against the back of the couch, around Chloe’s waist.

She hears her name on Chloe’s lips, an exhale between kisses that somehow keep getting hotter and wetter...just like she is elsewhere. Chloe’s hips shift their angle; it’s subtle but the difference is immense and the moan that escapes Beca when Chloe rocks into her in the exact right place is almost embarrassing.

She doesn’t have time for embarrassment, though. Not when Chloe pulls back from the kiss to look down at her. Her slow, steady pace doesn’t let up, though, and Beca knows she just wants to see Beca’s face while she does it. She knows because if their roles were reversed, she’d want to see Chloe’s reaction, too.

It’s intense to be watched this way. She wonders if Chloe is fully aware of just how much she’s affecting Beca, if she’s thinking about how far this could go or how quickly. If she wants it to.

The way she’s looking down at Beca, though, her eyes dark as she finally starts to adjust herself so her arms aren’t trapped, tell Beca Chloe isn’t thinking about stopping.

Beca’s fine with that.

She moves with Chloe, both of them shifting down on the couch so Beca’s neck isn’t stuck at a terrible angle and so Chloe can finally prop herself up on an elbow. She watches—and feels—Chloe’s hand ease out of her hair, fingertips drifting along Beca’s cheek and jawline to her neck. They stroke softly there, along her throat and Beca swallows. Chloe’s watching so intently, both where her fingers travel and how Beca responds to them.

She wants to ask for more but isn’t quite sure. Isn’t quite sure if this is cabin fever and a brief (it has been anything but brief) make-out session between bored, tipsy close friends. Isn’t quite sure what it will mean for them if she lets go of what little self-control she’s maintaining and rocks herself into Chloe until she comes.

She lets her own hands roam again, beyond Chloe’s back and neck and shoulders and hair to her throat, mirroring with both hands how Chloe’s fingers are touching her. Her skin is hot beneath Beca’s fingers and she can feel under her jaw the way her heart is pounding. She can feel how she swallows when Beca’s fingers find the dip between her clavicles and how her breathing speeds up after easing during their momentary break from kissing as Beca’s fingernails trace along the smooth skin along her décolletage. There’s so much of it on display.

Chloe’s touch is now following Beca’s, drawing lines and circles along the edge of her V-neck tee.

Beca gets stuck, though; Chloe’s skin feels so nice under her fingers and she’s never touched her, not like this, along the lines of her collar bones and the tendons in her neck and the slight dip that will give way to cleavage if she were to follow it. She gets stuck but Chloe doesn’t. Chloe’s touch finally breaks past the collar of Beca’s shirt to travel lower, over the thin material. It only takes a second or two before her fingers are grazing over the curve of Beca’s left breast.

Beca’s entire body tries to arch into it, a reaction that makes Chloe’s jaw drop, which is the last thing Beca sees before her eyes close when Chloe leans down to start kissing her again.

She whines a little, starting to feel desperate (an understatement) for release.

The sound seems to spur Chloe on, her kiss quickly returning to the deep, passionate exchanges they’ve been sharing. The hand at Beca’s breast gets more daring, more exploratory and Beca knows when Chloe finds its peak, not because she feels it (God, she feels it) but because Chloe’s touch slows, circling the surely visible rise.

Beca’s hands just fall away from Chloe, not because she doesn’t want to touch her but because her brain’s ability to do more than one thing at a time is being reduced. Meeting Chloe’s tongue and lips and pushing her hips into her, again and again, is about all she can manage.

Chloe must read her mini-collapse as further surrender (it was, really) because her exploratory touch, circling Beca’s nipple again and again with the edge of her fingernail, suddenly changes. Her fingers close against it and Beca’s thin bra and shirt might as well be nonexistent for as much as she feels it. Beca groans and her hips throw themselves up into Chloe with needy force and Chloe echoes her, pushing into Beca harder, her pace suddenly increasing.

It’s so difficult to breathe with Chloe’s tongue filling her mouth again and again but Beca’s ready to suffocate before she gives it up.

She also knows she’s going to come. Soon. She’s resigned herself to it and will deal with the consequences later; she feels she has a solid defense: Chloe tonguefucking her mouth the way she has been is a pretty stellar excuse.

She doesn’t know where the fuck she learned to kiss like this, but Beca is so, so grateful.

She can hear herself moaning, can hear how often it’s happening. She can hear Chloe, too, and the sound is turning Beca on almost as much as the way Chloe’s touching her.

The incessant attention to her nipple disappears and she whines in protest but all Chloe does is shush her and then kiss her more deeply. She feels Chloe’s hand on her stomach and sucks it in not out of vanity but because it almost tickles. But her hand is steady; it doesn’t linger to risk bumping into what are Beca’s few ticklish spots (Chloe knows them well). It moves confidently lower and Beca gasps when she feels her fingertips move over the waistband of her leggings because there’s only one reason Chloe’s hand would be moving in that direction.

The sound she makes when Chloe’s fingers graze between her legs, over the thin, form-fitting material of her pants, is obscene.

It makes Chloe’s mouth rip away from hers. “Fuck, Bec, you’re so wet.”

Beca hadn’t thought of that; she hadn’t thought about the fact that she was in leggings and nothing else because why did she need to be for a day of lounging around and what would happen if she ended up grinding with Chloe on the couch.

If Chloe means for her to respond she doesn’t give her enough time to do so. Her mouth is on Beca’s again to swallow Beca’s pitiful groan as fingers press down firmly against her. Now she can feel what Chloe felt, the soaked fabric slipping against her body with every lift of her hips.

As suddenly as Chloe cut her off her kiss ends again and Beca watches her lift herself a little higher; she wonders what she’s doing until she realizes Chloe’s not looking at her.

Well, not looking at her face, anyway.

Her focus now is between their bodies, specifically between Beca’s legs where her fingers are starting to rub and stroke, cutting the time Beca knows she has to wait to come in half, if not more.

She tries to say Chloe’s name but it gets caught in her throat when Chloe shifts from watching, awestruck, as her fingers touch Beca to dropping her hips to pin her hand between them and against Beca.

She moans in Beca’s ear, not quite making it back to her mouth. Beca knows her supporting arm has to be tired but Chloe not stopping is so hot and sexy. Her own arms finally work and she yanks them out from between their bodies to wrap them around Chloe, to run them up her back and into her hair to hold on.

She has to hold on because Chloe’s hips are bucking into her like she’s really fucking her (and she is really fucking her) and the urgency of her moans and gasping breaths in Beca’s ear make it register that not only is she fucking Beca now, with her hand where it is, she’s fucking herself, rutting against the back of her own hand.

It’s hard and fast now; there’s no teasing or precision touching. It’s contact and friction and neither of them need more than that.

Beca’s first to slip, the nonstop assault on her senses becoming too overwhelming. Chloe moaning in her ear on the verge of ecstasy. Chloe’s hips and Chloe’s fingers grinding and rocking against her. The now phantom memories of Chloe’s tongue twisting around Beca’s and fingertips pinching and rubbing her nipple.

She holds on, not thinking about whether or not her fingernails are scratching Chloe’s shoulders or if she’s pulling too hard on her hair, as her body rocks into an orgasm she’s been waiting to experience for ten years.

She hears Chloe and knows they’re coming together, an uncoordinated yet simultaneous release of energy and stress and tension that somehow increases in intensity as it unfurls between them until there’s what could be a sob in her ear. It’s not, though; it’s just Chloe coming down from her orgasm.

Something Beca never, ever thought she would actually bear witness to.

Chloe’s body is heavy on hers, no longer holding herself up at all but Beca doesn’t care. She just pushes Chloe’s hair out of her face and over Chloe’s shoulder so she can turn her head and put her mouth on Chloe’s heated neck, immediately sucking a mark into it. Everything feels so primal, so raw, even in the increasing afterglow but she’s spent.

She’s so, so spent.

If Chloe’s delay in moving at all, in any way other than her fingers which are still rubbing against Beca, is any indicator, she’s spent, too.

There’s a long, heavy sigh in her ear and Beca releases freshly purpled skin and feels her body fully sag into the couch, Chloe’s pleasant weight keeping her from floating away.

Chloe does start to move after a few minutes of quiet sighs and slow, sometimes chaste, sometimes sensual kisses and when she finally removes her hand its absence leaves Beca feeling cold and needy, despite what just happened.

“Bec—” Chloe starts and something about her faces tells Beca she’s about to apologize or in some way dismiss what just happened.

“That was amazing,” Beca says to interrupt whatever Chloe might have been thinking about saying.

A smile of relief breaks on Chloe’s flushed face and she drops down to kiss Beca again, hard and happy before she’s pulling away with finality. They’re a fair bit entangled and they’re both laughing by the time Chloe tiredly gets back onto her knees to fall back onto her ass at the other end of the couch.

She doesn’t offer Beca a helping hand to sit up, but Beca honestly doesn’t blame her. Chloe just did all the work; it’s the least she can do to push herself up until they’re sitting, both still red-faced and not quite breathing normally, on opposite ends of the couch.

“Just...give me a minute,” Chloe says before her head lolls back to rest on the couch and her eyes close.

Beca gives her the minute and uses it to take in her appearance: the flush of pink on her chest, the hardness of her nipples, the (Beca can’t help but look with curiosity) obvious dark patch between her legs on the gray sweatpants she’s wearing.

The need to touch—and taste—Chloe is suddenly overwhelming. She’s about to make her move when Chloe lifts her head, eyes sparkling and clear and a smile starts spreading across her features. There’s tension in her limbs and Beca wonders if Chloe is still as turned on as she is.

“Tag,” Chloe says, suddenly reaching out to slap her hand against Beca’s foot before bolting off the couch and heading for the stairs. “You’re it!”

Beca’s dumbfounded for several seconds until she bursts out laughing. It’s a different kind of release than she just experienced, one of pure joy. “I’m giving you 60 seconds!”

“I gave you 100!” echoes back to her.

“I can’t wait that long,” she says to herself. She hopes Chloe’s not actually hiding; she hopes she’s going to one of their bedrooms so they can keep doing what they’ve started.

She knows their future is unknown in many ways, what this means for their friendship, for their relationship with one another. She doesn’t know how much longer they’ll be required to spend all day, every day inside together.

But, she thinks as she finally makes it to the top of the stairs and to her room to find Chloe sitting in the middle of her bed half-naked in only a bra and panties, they have plenty of activities to pass the time.

The End

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #bechloe fic #fanfic #coronavirus #yep it's a quarantine fic

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youarejesting · 4 years

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Quarantine.1

[Masterlist] Pairing: BTS x reader (i don’t know if this will have ships or just friendship or what I am just letting it run its course) Genres: friendship, drama, romance Rating: All Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 2k

[Part 2] [Tag Yourself Here]

The announcement lit up everyone’s phones at once the chimes and vibrations alerting everyone within the dance studio to the emergency update. Your brother looked horrified up at you as he read the text you couldn’t speak Korean or read it well enough to understand but he left to his office. You followed his footsteps and caught his office door before it could shut.

Switching the tv on he nervously tapped the remote in his hand listening to the people in the news station talk while bright red banners at the top and bottom of the screen relayed the emergency message repeatedly.

“What is happening?” “Everyone is to stay indoors, they are closing down the streets and disinfecting everything if you step outside you will be shot, detained or poisoned by the chemicals, they said there are no more flights in or out of South Korea”

Running his hand through his dark brown hair which had once been what some might call a dishevelled design and now was a nest. His tone was clipped as he told you to stay in the office, he left the room his jacket disappearing as the door shut with a small click. The ticking of the clock was so loud or perhaps that was the fierce beating of your heart thrumming against your eardrums and shaking your vestibular system. Bladder feeling tight as the rush of adrenaline caused your kidneys to work double time. Lunging at the door and chasing after your brother, Where had he gone? Opening doors left and right down the hallway calling his name.

Trying to catch a single glimpse of the tails of his coat, before you busted open more doors filled with back up dancers all looking equally nervous. Turning the corner you started a new hallway throwing open every door you could get your hands on, your chest grew tight. Falling through the door and into a room you called for your brother trying to see through your tears.

“Where did you go?” You sobbed, falling to your knees you were gasping for air. “The virus?” One of the boys pointed at your collapsed figure in the doorway he had a very unique face, he had a strong jawline and high cheekbones his nose was super cute like a pixie slightly turned up and gave him a mischievous nature, his lips were turned in concern and the cupids bow was well defined and overall he had a lanky figure. You knew what he said as you had heard this word spoken repeatedly since you had been notified of the Coronavirus.

“Y/n” The familiar voice pulled you back to reality, “hey Woah it’s okay breath, it’s just an alert” There was a familiar rattling sound of a shaking canister and the plastic pressed to your lips brought back memories. You instinctively took a deep breath. “She is fine, she just gets panic attacks”

“You left me” wiping your eyes “You are okay, we all got tested on the way in remember, we are all healthy we have food and water and supplies to last a long time, and I am not leaving you alone okay” Laying your head back against the wall calming down enough to know you had walked into the office of the most famous K-pop boy band.

“I am sorry boys for my sister barging in” “No, it’s okay really,” This man said softly his voice was deep and he spoke English with clarity. He didn’t have a typical Korean boy band face but it was exotic and charming. He was very tall and slim. His full lips curved up into a smile and he handed over a blanket. Wrapping it around your shoulders, his large hands and long forearms had a few prominent veins that seemed to make you lose your breath in a totally unrelated way. “you must have been so scared, it’s okay?”

“I am sorry” “You can stay if you would like?” This voice was sweet and gentle speaking slowly in English. And yet the man behind the voice was truly a god sent the first thing you noticed were his large eyes which had sharp edges slightly turned up like a cat. Next, you noticed his smooth skin and prince charming demeanour. His lips were like soft pink pillows that made you wonder what it would be like to just gently bite. He stood up and walked closer kneeling in front of you, your eyes scanning his form he had shoulders like he was hiding football armour under his sweater. A part of you wanted to reach out and squeeze them gently.

“it is scary being on your own and my handsome face will make you feel better” he winked and you bit down on your lips before you said anything embarrassing. “No, we should leave you to it, come on, let’s not bother them anymore” With his arm under yours and across your back your brother helped guide you back to his small office. He was a choreographer and managed a few dance groups for BigHit, not at the level of BTS but bigger than a high school dance team. He laid you on the small couch and got you a glass of water. “Sleep I will email mum and dad”

He circled the floor his footsteps soundless on the plush carpet. You heard the tapping of a keyboard and faint sounds of what were either you dreaming or talking. It was like everything was happening at once and it felt like you had shut your eyes for a mere second, however, when you opened them the light was off and it was dark outside. The tapping of the keyboard and the talking had come to an abrupt stop. The silence was so loud.

He was gone. Throwing yourself upright you almost fell off the tiny couch only to be caught by a pair of hands. “your brother went to get some food but he was worried you would wake up, I was the only one who willingly stayed behind”

“Who are you?” “Kim Seokjin, but you call me Jin, You know” Eyes adjusting to the darkness you saw you were in the arms of the broad-shouldered gentleman. He sat you back onto the couch. You tried to discreetly touch his shoulders, you squeezed the area curiously, he looked down at your hand.

“I am sorry, it’s just you looked like you were wearing football armour, I thought your shoulders were fake but they aren’t, that is crazy” “Yes, they are real, so is my handsome face, you know, you may touch” he laughed grabbing your hands trying to bring them to his face, you shook your head before your stomach started growling. He pushed up onto his feet pulling you to yours as his hands were still gripping yours in a firm and yet gentle grip. “Okay, we go to eat”

He went to leave holding your hand but you moved it from his and linked your arm around his gently holding onto his bicep for support. He treated you like a gentleman and even helped you get a tray of food and carried them across the cafeteria. It was a set meal and Seokjin lead you to his table, you couldn’t spot your brother so you followed the broad-shouldered young man like he was parting the sea.

“Ya Jiiiin” they shouted all talking as Jin placed your meal across from him. “Miss y/l/n, This is Kim Namjoon our leader and Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi, Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok, Kim Taehyung” They greeted you with a small hello bow or wave while eating and you lowered your head giving your name back before continuing to eat in silence.

You made a face at the strong smell of kimchi. Gently lifting the small metal circle off your tray and pushed it to the centre of the table. Your stomach couldn’t handle the strong fermented taste of Kimchi. “Where do we sleep?” You piped up when they had finally stopped talking to eat their meals, your question had some of them freezing as they looked down at their plates.

“There is one room of beds but I don’t think we will get them, the CEO's get priority” they nodded at the words and you hummed looking around. “What about all the couches? Are they foldout beds?” Pushing your empty tray forward to rest your hand on the table. “I don’t think so?” Namjoon hummed “perhaps we should invest”

Once dinner was over you searched the building for anything remotely useful for a bed and you came across an old storeroom, that had obviously accumulated props, broken furniture and lost and found items. Among the broken chairs and ripped curtains. You found a queen-sized futon in a packet it looked like a promotional item, the plastic cover was dusty and you found three sleeping bags. Taking the service elevator you brought the items upstairs and as quick as you could to your brother’s small office.

You passed the boys communal meeting room and froze you didn’t need all these items. Knocking on the door you waited patiently. They opened the door and you stepped inside and shut the door, “I found a futon and some sleeping bags and I know there isn’t enough for everyone but I only need for my brother and I and thought maybe you might like something, as a thank you for being kind, You can probably fit three or four on the futon so you should have it”

“You found it so you should have it?” Namjoon said softly and you blushed you hadn’t expected all their attention on you like this. It made it hard to think of what to say. “Where did you find it?” Jungkook asked “There is a storage room in the basement full of broken furniture”

“Look Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Jungkook and I have Futon’s cause sometimes we fall asleep here when we are working you should keep whatever you want and we will take any extra’s” “Well, um if five of you have futons, then the other two can share the queen futon, and my brother and I will have sleeping bags, do you know if there is anyone else who needs something to sleep on?”

“Uh yes actually our manager in the office to the left,” Jimin said walking forward. The room seemed to get hotter with every elegant and precise step he took. Feet crossing one over the other his leg extending gracefully his steps looked light as a feather and didn’t leave a hint of a sound. He looked like you could bump him and he could go flying away. Yet the muscles contracting visibly against the dark fabric of his pants proved he wasn’t as feeble as you thought, he was compact and strong.

“Do you have a preference in which sleeping bags you would like?” “Uh..” Mind blank as you were frozen in place by his piercing eyes, they were a smouldering dark reddish-brown. You blinked cheeks turning a brighter shade of pink and started inspecting the three sleeping bags in your arms, you checked the size and made sure they were all cleaned and didn’t have any odd lingering smells. They were all in excellent condition so you chose the smallest. “I assume I am the smallest so your manager can have one of the taller ones”

“You’re cute, let’s go” He grinned taking one and patting your head, you followed him out watching his tight pants move with every step. You noticed his shoulders dip with each step and that he was leading with his hips. You ducked past him as he knocked on his manager’s office door. “Ah, goodnight dream about me”

You froze eyes blowing wide and your cheeks going bright red, his laugh made him look like an innocent schoolboy and he almost toppled over in amusement. You scurried off into the office trying to regain any semblance of composure, leaning against the door taking deep breathes the laughter echoing in your head “Where did you go?” “I got sleeping bags from an old storage room in the basement”

That night you couldn’t sleep to busy thinking about the handsome young men who were a few rooms down, you had met them all but only a few of them you had the chance to inspect closely.

[Part 2] [Tag Yourself Here]

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thinkingaboutyoungroyals · 3 years

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True Heaven

Summary: Dean wakes up from a dream about heaven. As he goes about his day, he realizes what his true heaven looks like.

AO3

The sun was beating down on him but he felt no heat, just warmth. Everything was warm here.

The trees were tall and green. The sky was the bluest he had ever seen. The water trickling down the stream was as clear as glass.

It was heaven… or so they say.

Dean smiled to himself as he gazed at the view from the bridge in his memories. There was only one thing that could make this heaven truly his.

“Hey, Sammy,” he greeted, as he turned his head to see his smiling brother.

Sam stepped forward, arms open and Dean didn’t even hesitate to pull him into a hug.

Together, the two brothers looked out into their heaven, side-by-side, as they always have been.

It should feel right. His head was telling him it should be right. That this was his true heaven.

The sky.

The trees.

The bridge beneath his feet.

His baby brother by his side.

Yet, something still felt missing.

And there was a strange buzzing sound blaring in his ear.

Dean closed his eyes, trying to block it out. But, the sound kept going, refusing to stand down and give him peace.

Heaven shouldn’t be so loud like this...

With a gasp, Dean opened his eyes, heaving as the alarm on his phone continued to buzz him awake.

He was in bed. At home. Lying on soft sheets and pillows. The sun streaming in from the curtained windows.

He was okay. He wasn't dead. He was alive. Living. Breathing. Blood running through his veins.

His hand reached out to tap the ‘snooze’ button, silencing the buzzing for at least another ten minutes.

Still in a daze, Dean continued to lay in bed, blinking at the ceiling as he tried to hold on to the last vestiges of his dream.

He had died. He went to heaven, apparently. And heaven was different.

Bobby was there. Apparently, everyone else he knew and loved was there, too, though he didn't see them. He went for a long drive with Baby. Then, Sam had joined him. They were on a bridge, that same bridge from their first hunt together after Dad went missing.

Was that what heaven was like now? He wouldn’t know. Jack wouldn’t tell him – secretive kid.

“Dean! I heard your alarm! You better not still be in bed! We have plenty to do today!”

Dean smiled, shaking his head before sitting up and stretching. He could feel his muscles popping, his back twinging in that familiar ache.

Damn, he was getting old.

“I’m awake!” he called back as he moved the blankets aside.

He could smell the eggs and bacon.

Castiel was making breakfast.

Without wasting any more time, Dean slipped into comfy slippers and made his way down the stairs to the kitchen.

As a habit, his eyes roamed the simple beige wallpaper, the framed photos, the snug carpets, and the random pieces of furniture that didn’t match because they found them at different online listings.

Damn, he loved his house.

Lazily running a hand through his fair to give it some semblance of order, Dean entered the kitchen with a loud yawn.

“Morning, Cas,” he greeted, settling himself at the table where a mug of coffee already waited.

Their dog, Miracle, raised her head from her own breakfast to bounce up to him with a happy bark. He ran a hand through her fur, fondly scratching her favorite spots. Her tail wagged even faster in delight. She was getting on in years but was still the same beautiful and affectionate dog she was when Dean first found her.

“Good morning, Dean.”

Castiel turned his head away from the stove to flash him a smile before turning back to finish cooking.

With one hand still on Miracle’s fur, Dean lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip, letting out a contented sigh when he tasted the slightly bitter coffee. It warmed him up from his head to the tips of his toes as the caffeine woke his brain up.

He needed it today. Sam and Eileen were coming over tonight and there was a lot to get done around the house.

Plates of eggs and bacon were laid in front of him as well as an empty dish and a fork. Castiel passed him the salt and pepper shakers before sitting down across from Dean.

“Thanks.” Dean stabbed into the eggs and grabbed a couple of pieces of bacon.

Castiel hummed in response as he did the same.

Silently, the two men ate.

The forks clanged against the plates accompanied by the sounds of chewing. Every now and then, Miracle would whine, hoping to get a piece of bacon. (Dean snuck her a few when Castiel went to refill his coffee mug.)

Outside, birds sang their morning song and the squirrels chattered as they went about their business. Castiel said there was a nest of robins residing in the tree by their porch.

(He didn’t want Dean to cut the tree, even though it would give them plenty of space for a nice front garden.

“It’s their home, Dean!” he had insisted when Dean tried to argue his stance.

He had looked so distraught that Dean ended up giving in and leaving the tree alone.)

It had been five years since Castiel returned to the Winchesters from the Empty, graceless and human. Even if he was technically God now, Jack still had to make a deal – and the cost was Castiel’s grace. Castiel was no longer an angel and never would be again, even if he stole another angel’s grace. He was fully human, would live a mortal life, and would return to heaven as a human soul when he died.

After a close call with a vampire nest and almost dying from a nail in the back in Ohio (Sam managed to clear out the bodies, call 911, and get him to the hospital in time), Dean had decided, right there and then, that he was done hunting. He wanted stability.

He had his Free Will back and he was going to use it to create a new life for himself and Castiel. So, after looking around the area, he got a job as a mechanic at the town garage – he was always pretty good at fixing up cars. The money wasn’t much but at least it was legal this time. No more stealing credit cards and identity theft for him.

Not wanting to be a burden, Castiel applied for a part-time job at a convenience store. They had to forge his papers and create a new identity (Castiel insisted on taking Jimmy’s last name “Novak”, to honor his vessel) but that was the easy part. Because even though he had lived as a human before, the former angel still struggled with basic human needs. He’d forget that he needed to eat and would only be reminded if his stomach was growling and tightening in protest. And he’d forget to sleep until he lost consciousness while on his feet, wherever he was. But, soon, he got used to it, even if he found bathroom breaks so inconvenient.

For the first two years, Dean and Castiel continued to live at the bunker with Sam and Eileen, helping the couple with finding, researching, and solving cases.

Dean’s brother never truly left the hunting life. Sam was good at it and loved it more than Dean ever did. Besides, he had Eileen as a partner, this time, in more ways than one. They worked together like a well-oiled machine, Dean was loathed to admit. But, Sam was happy and Eileen took good care of him and always had his back – that was enough for the older Winchester.

Dean found the old farmhouse for sale at a cheap price three years ago. It was practically falling apart but still held a certain charm. Dean fell in love at first sight and when he showed it to Castiel, the former angel loved it, too. They bought it and fixed it up, renovating where they could. It took a year and all their manpower just to repair the roof, the front and back porch, and the kitchen.

When the farmhouse was ready and livable, Dean and Castiel officially moved out of the bunker and into their new home.

Dean continued to work as a mechanic, doing the best work for his clients and impressing the garage owner so much that he showed Dean the ropes of running the business. And he was an attentive student. Dean may not have graduated high school and gone to college like Sam but it didn’t mean he was uneducated. And he had even made friends with the other mechanics, learning their techniques and sharing his own. And, maybe someday, when he saved up enough, he could open his own garage.

Meanwhile, Castiel quit the convenience store when he discovered a Honey Farm nearby. He learned how to be a beekeeper – the bees always did fascinate him. He was good at it. He talked to the bees like he talked to people. Whether he could actually understand them or simply made up their conversations, it didn’t matter. He was a hoot among the older ladies and the kids.

(Sam and Eileen still lived at the bunker, finding it more convenient with all the resources they needed for hunts. When they weren’t on the road, they would come to dinner.

And, sometimes, even Jack popped in to say “hello.” Castiel always kept a box of Cookie Crunch cereal for him in the pantry.)

Their house was small. Their jobs were mundane. They had an everyday routine.

Their life was simple. But, it was theirs. Finally theirs.

“I’m going to the store after breakfast,” Castiel finally spoke up as he cleared his plate. “Do you have the list of things you need for dinner?”

“Yeah, it’s upstairs, I can grab it.”

“No need.” Castiel stood up to put his plate in the sink. “I’m going to get dressed so I'll get it. Where did you put it?”

“Dresser.”

Dean continued to eat while Castiel headed out of the kitchen, pausing for a few beats to fondly scratch behind Miracle’s ear. When he disappeared down the hallway, Dean tossed the last of the bacon to the dog before getting up and doing the dishes.

As he placed the last plate on the rack, Castiel returned to the kitchen, dressed in a polo shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a tan leather jacket. He had stopped wearing the trench coat a while ago, but the sight of him without still made Dean pause.

“I’ll be back in half an hour,” Castiel said.

Dean flicked the last of the water away before wiping his hands on a rag. “Okay. I’ll walk Miracle while you’re out.”

Castiel nodded. Then, he smiled shyly before leaning in and planting a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips.

“I’ll see you later.”

Dean squeezed his hand, offering a loving smile of his own. “See you later, Cas.”

Just like their life, their relationship was simple. Mundane, sometimes. But, if Dean was honest, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Gone were the days of one night stands and denials of how he felt. He was getting too old for all that. He had gone through hell and back (quite literally) plus purgatory. He deserved this, damnit.

Sure, Dean still had trouble expressing his feelings (thanks for that, Dad). He rarely even said the words that Castiel freely expressed. But, the advantage of them having their so-called profound bond was that he didn’t need to really say anything for his partner to know how he truly felt about him.

Castiel already knew. He had always known. And he didn’t expect Dean to change.

Besides, Dean was more of a man of action, anyway.

Miracle barked, looking up at him with excited puppy dog eyes. She was anxious to get out and walk and chase squirrels and get the occasional pets from excited kids.

“Alright, alright, give me a sec.”

Dean took one last sweep of the kitchen to ensure everything was fine before bounding up the stairs to the bedroom. He swapped his pajama pants for sweatpants and tugged on his worn brown leather jacket over his sleep shirt. (He could shower later.)

Downstairs, he grabbed his house keys, clipped Miracle’s leash to her collar, and led her out of the house, locking the door behind him.

Baby was still parked in her usual spot so Castiel must have taken the Corolla to the store. (He wouldn’t take the Impala out without Dean’s permission, anyway.)

The air was chilly but the sun was out and bright, making their walk pleasant. Miracle led the way, her head swiveling around as she sniffed the familiar surroundings. She chose a spot under a tree to do her business and Dean cleaned up after her. He tossed the bag into a nearby trash can before continuing on their way.

“Morning, Dean!”

He lifted a hand to greet their neighbor who was out on a morning walk. “Morning, James.”

He stopped for a few seconds to chat about the weather (“Nice weather we’re having”), about James’ wife and kids (“The missus told me Castiel gave her a large discount on a crate of honey. Thanks for that, it really means a lot”), and what Dean and Castiel’s plans were for the holidays (“It’s always nice to see family”).

Miracle began to whine and tug on her leash so Dean said his goodbyes and went on his way.

They stopped two more times, both for the neighborhood kids who were Miracle’s regular admirers. Little 5-year-old Emma who Miracle would stay still for as the little arms hugged her right. Then, there were the Ross triplets, who always had a treat for their furry friend. (This was why Castiel had been trying – but failing – to put her on a diet. She kept getting spoiled with treats!)

Once they made it to the end of their usual route, Dean gently tugged on her leash, signaling that it was time to return home.

The Corolla’s spot was still empty so Castiel hadn't returned yet.

Dean released Miracle from her leash and she immediately padded over to her pillow by the fireplace. Meanwhile, Dean went back upstairs and finally jumped into the shower.

By the time he was finished cleaning up and getting dressed, noises downstairs and a cooing of Miracle’s name indicated that Castiel was back from the store.

Dean made his way to the kitchen, pausing for a moment at the entrance to watch his partner put away the groceries. But, never one to miss a thing, Castiel turned to him and smiled.

“Hello, Dean. There was a sale on pie so I got you two.” He gestured to the kitchen table where two boxes sat.

Dean whistled, finally entering the kitchen to take a look. One box was labeled “apple” and the other “blueberry.”

“A man after my own heart, Cas!”

He took the few steps towards his partner, who was putting the meat in the freezer, and pecked his cheek in appreciation.

Castiel blushed, simply replying, “You’re welcome.”

With a happy grin, Dean helped put the rest of the groceries away. He didn’t need to start cooking until after lunch.

“By the way, Jody called while I was at the store,” Castiel said, putting a box of cereal away in the pantry. “She’s asking what we’re bringing to Thanksgiving.”

“I was thinking mac and cheese,” Dean replied as he folded up the grocery bags to be re-used for later.

“Claire’s cooking this year.”

“On second thought, maybe we should just bring the bird.”

“Dean.” Castiel was scolding but it was in a fond tone.

“The last time Claire cooked, Alex got to practice her nursing skills on us.”

“That was years ago.”

“My stomach has never forgotten, Cas.”

“It was her first time cooking, Dean. I’m sure she’s improved since then.”

Castiel always made good points.

“Fine. But we’re bringing our own Pepcid.”

Castiel simply chuckled in response.

After finishing with the groceries, they both went upstairs to get the guest room ready. Sam and Eileen always stayed the night. Castiel dusted while Dean changed the sheets to fresh ones and sprayed some air freshener to get rid of the dusty smell.

When that was done, they went back downstairs. Dean retreated to the living room to catch up on some of his shows. Meanwhile, Castiel picked up his book from the coffee table and went outside to the back porch to read the morning away. At some point, Miracle got up from her pillow to follow him outside.

At 11am, Castiel went back in and settled on the couch next to Dean.

“What should we have for lunch?” he asked, snuggling to his side.

“Maybe something light since we’re having a big dinner.” Dean placed an arm over his shoulder as he pursed his lips in thought. “PB&J?”

Castiel’s eyes practically sparkled at the suggestion of his favorite food in the entire world.

After lunch, Dean went back to his show and Castiel to his book. This time, both were in the living room. Miracle interrupted them at some point, begging Dean to play, to which he obliged and they played a half hour’s worth of fetch. Then, it was back to his show.

At 4 o’clock, Dean shut the T.V. off, Castiel marked his book, and Miracle napped, still exhausted from playtime.

The next two hours were a flurry of activity in the kitchen. Pasta simmered in the pot. Chicken baked in the oven. And leaves and veggies were chopped for a salad (because Sam would complain if there wasn’t some kind of healthy food on the table).

Dean liked cooking. And, don’t tell Sam, but he especially liked cooking for his brother. At the end of the day, Dean was still a big brother who wanted to take care of his baby brother, no matter how old they both were now. (But, even if he had a gun pointed at his head or was back at Hell’s gates, he would never confess to it.)

It was a little past six when the rumble of a car outside alerted them to their visitors. The table in the dining room was already set and the warm food arranged neatly by Dean.

Castiel opened the door and was immediately greeted with a hug from Eileen followed by Sam. Dean went out to meet them, practically jumping on his giant of a brother to receive a hug.

“Heya, Sammy!”

“Hi, Dean. The food smells great! I’m starving!”

They wasted no time settling into their respective seats and passing the food around. Sam and Eileen had brought a bottle of sparkling cider, which was opened and poured into everyone’s glasses.

“When did you guys get back?” Dean asked, passing the basket of dinner rolls to Castiel.

“Yesterday,” Sam answered, helping himself to a generous amount of salad. “We were pretty beat so we ended up sleeping until noon.”

“What was the case?” Castiel asked as he tore into his roll.

“Wendigo,” Eileen answered, pausing in cutting her chicken to sign. “In Iowa. It was luring kids from a small village to the forest. Took us three days.”

“Nice!” Dean signed. “Those bastards don’t stand a chance against Sam Winchester and Eileen Leahy!”

Everyone cheered, toasting to the success of the two hunters.

The conversation continued.

Dean shared updates on his work at the Garage and how he might be up for a promotion pretty soon. Castiel talked about his bees and how smart his co-workers were for their ideas of honey flavors.

As they finished up dinner, Sam loudly cleared his throat as he took Eileen's hand in his.

“So, uh, we have some news,” he began, flashing his girlfriend a look. She nodded at him, in encouragement. “And we wanted you two to be the first to know.”

Dean frowned. “This sounds serious. Is someone sick?”

The couple laughed.

“No, no, this is good news,” said Eileen.

Sam cleared his throat. “So… We wanted to tell you… that… we... well, Eileen… is… pregnant.”

The couple beamed while Dean almost choked on his wine.

“For real?!”

“Congratulations!” Castiel exclaimed.

Hugs were exchanged and Dean broke out a bottle of wine to celebrate his new status as Uncle.

“You should name it after me, Sammy!”

“Not a chance!”

Dean tried to act offended but he was much too happy to really argue.

Sam deserved this. He had a woman he loved, a job he was passionate about, and now a kid on the way. There was no doubt that he was going to be an amazing father. And Dean and Castiel would definitely be the favorite uncles.

After partaking in the apple pie for dessert, Sam volunteered to help Castiel with the dishes while Eileen spent quality time with Miracle.

Feeling stuffed and full of dinner and happiness, Dean took the opportunity to grab a beer and go out into the back porch for some fresh air. He leaned against the wooden column of the front porch, just taking it all in.

It was a peaceful night. The cicadas were loud, as always. An owl hooted from somewhere. Above, the clear evening sky was littered with bright stars, as if the heavens, too, were celebrating the addition of another Winchester in this world. Maybe they were. Jack would be aware of the news by now. Dean hoped he would come to visit soon. It had been a while and Castiel missed the kid. (Dean did, too, but don’t quote him on that.)

The door behind him opened and, soon, familiar arms wrapped around his waist.

“Hi.”

“Hey, angel.”

Castiel tucked his head on top of his shoulder. He was warm and Dean savored the feeling.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“How happy I am.”

Castiel hummed. “It is indeed happy news to find out you are having a nephew. A new addition to your family.”

“Our family, Cas,” he corrected, squeezing the hand at his stomach.

“Our family,” Castiel agreed.

Dean lifted the hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss to the knuckles. “I had a weird dream last night. I just remembered it again.”

“Weird in what sense?”

“It was… heaven, I think. But, it also… wasn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well… for one… you weren’t there.”

Damn, that was so cheesy. The apple pie life was making Dean soft.

But, then Castiel pressed an affectionate kiss to his temple and Dean was reminded why he didn’t mind the occasional softness so much anymore. (But, again, he wouldn’t admit it, even with a gun to his head.)

“But, I think my dream got it wrong,” he continued. “That wasn’t heaven. Not to me. My heaven is down here. With Sam. Eileen. Miracle. And everyone we found along the way.” He turned his head, meeting Castiel’s pretty blue eyes. “And, you, of course. There’s no heaven without you, Cas.”

“Dean…" Castiel's eyes sparkled with mischief. "You are getting better at expressing your feelings.”

Dean laughed, softly. “Yeah, well, it only took five years and the news that I’m gonna be an Uncle. So, don’t get used to this, Cas.”

Castiel’s arms tightened around him. “I’m sure Jack has turned heaven into a wonderful place again. But, promise me, Dean, that you won’t go there yet. Not until your hair turns gray and your skin turns wrinkly.”

Dean patted his hand. “I’ll do my best if you do the same for me.”

Castiel chuckled and kissed his cheek before pulling away. “Come inside, Dean.”

“Give me a few more minutes.”

“Okay.”

Dean kept his gaze on the sky as Castiel left.

It didn't take long for him to have company again.

“So, why are you out here and not in there?”

Dean laughed. “Heya, Sammy.”

Sam leaned on the column opposite him, clutching his own bottle of beer.

“Just thinking,” Dean repeated his answer. “Just… did you ever think we’d be this happy, Sam?”

“Honestly? No. But… we deserve it… right?”

“Yeah, we do!”

For a moment, they were silent, simply listening to the night sounds and enjoying the warmth in their stomachs brought by the beer.

Then, Sam broke the silence.

“So, I was also thinking…”

Dean met his brother’s gaze, curious.

“Since Eileen is pregnant, we’re probably gonna take a break from hunting.”

Dean’s brows rose. “Yeah? That’s good. Focus on the health of the mom and baby and all that jazz.”

Sam hummed. "We talked about moving out of the bunker and getting a house and everything. Maybe get married, officially.” Sam took another sip of beer. “But, cases don’t end just ‘cause a hunter takes a break, right?”

“Yeah…”

His baby brother wanted to get married. Dean couldn't be happier.

“So, remember one time when we talked about creating a Hunter’s Network out of the bunker? You know, to help other hunters. Provide them with resources they don’t need to literally sell their soul for?”

Dean nodded, recalling a conversation they had about it a long time ago, right around the time he decided to retire.

Sam’s eyes flickered with hope.

“Well, maybe we could get started on that… if you’re willing to still be a part of it, I mean. I get that you have a different life now and you don’t want to hunt anymore, but you’ll be mostly hands-off in the cases. And Cas has some angelic and holy knowledge that maybe we can write down and turn into some kind of guide… if he’s willing to help out. You don’t even have to come to the bunker, I can just come here and we can work on plans and-.”

“Sammy.”

Sam broke off, taking a sip of his beer and avoiding looking at Dean, as if he was afraid of the answer.

And, to be quite honest, Dean hadn’t thought about being involved in hunter life. But, it wasn’t like he was out of touch with it. He still listened to Sam’s stories of his hunts. He had conversations with Jody when she called to ask for advice on dealing with some creature. He and Castiel still had some books on the supernatural on the bookshelf in their bedroom. And, he can’t forget about the guns and knives and other hunting apparel stored in a box under their bed and in Baby’s trunk. Heck, he and Castiel still carried a flask of holy water with them!

Hunting would always be in his blood.

He may no longer want to be directly involved but, maybe he could still help.

“Sure, why not?” Dean finally answered.

Sam’s head jerked towards him in surprise. “Really?”

Dean shrugged. “I may not be holding the gun anymore but I can tell another hunter how to kill a vampire in ten different ways.”

“Dean…” Sam looked like he was about to start crying.

“Saving people, hunting things, that’s the family business, right?”

He held out his beer bottle again.

Sam smiled and met it with his own. “Yeah.”

The brothers drank to that promise.

And Dean coulnd't help but think that, in his own way, he had found his own heaven on earth.

#supernatural #destiel

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