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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Drum it out - Harry Styles

a/n: hiya lovelies! im bringin an OC fic this time only because i had a strong vision about the girl and thought it would be best to have her as one instead of Y/N this time, but hope you’ll enjoy it regardless! Remi Devon is a baddie, i like her!

pairing: Harry x OC

summary: Harry is forced to find a new drummer since Sarah is about to become a mom, but no one seems to be good enough to replace her. It is until he meets Remi Devon, the woman who completely takes his breath away from the moment he sees her on stage.

word count: 7k

warning: NSFW content, some slight spanking

masterlist

“Don’t worry, you’ll love her just as much as I do!” Sarah smiles at Harry, giving his arm a gentle squeeze as they make their way into the small but cozy looking bar. Harry is skeptical, mostly because for him, no one compares to Sarah and if it wasn’t for her pregnancy, he would do anything to make her stay in the band. But he is so happy his two friends are starting a family together, it’s only that Harry is now forced to look for a new drummer as it’s getting harder for Sarah to keep up with the hectic lifestyle they’ve been living. Her bump is now pretty obvious and it’s only a matter of time until she can’t sit behind her instrument.

They’ve been trying to find someone to replace her during the second half of her pregnancy and at least the first year after she gives birth, but no one seemed good enough. Truth is, and Harry knew it damn well, that his problem was always the same: they weren’t Sarah.

Now she has dragged him to check someone out, a girl Sarah knows from years ago and who was told to be a mind-blowing drummer, though Harry has doubts about that.

“Sure will,” he hums, not too convinced about it.

The bar was previously a small theater, the seats have been taken out on the ground floor, replaced with tables and stools around the sides and a dance floor in the middle. The gallery is used as a kind of VIP area, this is where the two of them are right now, sitting at a small table in the front corner so they have an amazing sight of the stage where a local band is about to start very soon. Sarah said Remi, the drummer in the talk, is just a jump-in for the night for a friend, but it was a great opportunity for Harry to check her out.

“You know, she beat me at an audition a while ago. This super cool rock band was looking for a drummer for their mini-tour in Canada, because their drummer broke his leg and we both tried for it. There were still some people waiting to audition when she went in and she blew their mind so much, they just ended the audition right there,” Sarah tells him, the story still holds a dear place in her heart. She and Remi used to be close friends, but got a little distant as life took them to different paths. Now they are meeting up every few months when they are in the same city, catching up on everything since they last saw each other, sharing their equally exciting stories.

“Really?” Harry asks with genuine surprise as he takes his beer from the table and glances down at the stage. Everything is set up already and his eyes move to the shiny looking drum set at the back. It’s hard to imagine himself finding someone as good as Sarah, for Harry she has been the etalon ever since they met. But now he is forced to find someone even though he doesn’t want to, not even a bit.

“Yeah. She is the kind of girl that just turns heads wherever she goes without even trying.”

“You think I would get along with her well?” he asks, turning to face her just in time to see the wide smirk on her lips as she nods.

“I think you two would make an epic duo, H.”

“Alright, now I’m interested,” he smiles softly.

“She said they will play a lot of covers.”

“What kind?”

“You’ll see,” she smirks, sipping on her lemonade, a hand going to slide down on her stomach.

The dance floor is not packed, but there are a lot of people, seemingly most of them are here specifically for this band called Striped Shoes, Harry hasn’t heard about them until now but he is always happy to discover new music.

Soon, the lights go down, darkness falling to the theater, the only light is coming from the bars at the back. Then a spotlight turns on and a guy is standing in the middle of it, cheers erupting from the people as he starts playing the guitar and Harry immediately recognizes the song: Smells like teen spirit by Nirvana. Just a few riffs later all the other spotlights come on, each of them illuminating a member of the band and Harry’s eyes flick to the drum set where the only female on the stage is sitting, he catches her the moment she starts playing, the vibrant energy lingering around her almost knocks him off the stool even from this far away. Her hair barely reaches her shoulders, it falls to frame her heart shaped face in soft waves, the roots are a darker color than the rest that’s an odd shade of mahogany, but it suits her perfectly, Harry thinks. She has a few tattoos littered across her arms but not a full sleeve on any of them. They are on full display in the shirt that’s sleeves were seemingly ripped off, the fabric is raw on her shoulders. It seems to be some kind of old band shirt but Harry doesn’t recognize the logo on the front. Her legs are wrapped in ripped jeans and Harry is immediately mesmerized by how steadily she keeps the rhythm while absolutely nailing the song.

She makes it look so easy yet fascinating, her head snaps back a few times, a satisfied grin stretching across her lips as she enjoys the music, clearly a fan on it. She doesn’t miss a beat and flows into the next song that’s an original from the band as if the two songs were the same while she had to switch up the rhythm entirely through the transition.

Harry feels starstruck, watching this woman take the whole show, in his opinion, while simply sitting behind the drum set, playing like no one he has ever seen. She puts all of herself into it and that’s why she manages to outshine everyone else. Harry knows how hard it is for a drummer to get the same kind of attention as other members, but Remi makes it seem like it’s the natural, like drummers are the front people without a doubt.

When the cover version of Rock and Roll by Led Zeppelin comes on, in a way more hard rock version, Harry almost fears the stage is about to catch on fire. The song already has amazing drums in it, but the band gave it even more attention, giving a chance for Remi to show how amazing she really is.

“So? What do you think?” Sarah shouts over the music and Harry suddenly realizes he is not alone. He managed to zone out on the drummer without even noticing.

“She is… amazing,” he admits truthfully, in complete awe of what he is witnessing. This is music. This is passion. This is exactly what Harry always looks for in musicians and Remi has a whole lot of it.

They push the short drum solo a little longer at the end and Harry watches as Remi finishes the song standing, playing so hard that with the last hit, one of her sticks simply snaps into two, flying across the stage as she is breathing hard, skin glimmering from the sweat, her hair a complete mess from all the head shaking she’s been doing, but Harry thinks that it’s the hottest thing he has ever seen in his life.

Sarah knows she finally found her replacement, judging from Harry’s look she knows he is a sucker for Remi so she just lets him enjoy the rest of the concert.

When they play their last song and they all gather at the front of the stage to bow in front of the audience, Harry finds himself standing as he is applauding the band, but especially Remi who doesn’t even know Harry Styles is now a fan of hers.

“Let’s talk to her, shall we?” Sarah suggests once they disappear from the stage. Harry nods, finishing up his beer before the two of them head backstage.

Sarah has been put on the list since she previously let Remi know she would be coming. She was ecstatic to see her old friend, however was not told that Sarah would be coming with someone else so when Remi spots the two of them walking down the small hallway at the backstage, she is surprised but not shocked. She knows Sarah has been working with him for a long time now, but she wasn’t expecting him to be here tonight.

“Hey! There you are, mama!” Remi jokes with a heartfelt chuckle as she hugs her old friend. “Already looking like a milf!” she teases, earning an eye-roll from Sarah.

“Rems, I want you to meet Harry. Harry, this is Remi Devon.”

Remi’s eyes meet Harry’s piercing green ones and for a moment, Harry feels his stomach drop. She is even more breathtaking up close, in her simple but very fitting outfit, hair pushed back from her face carelessly she is easily the first woman ever to make Harry nervous to the point where he is having a hard time to even talk.

Remi holds out a hand for him smiling warmly and he luckily takes control over his actions and shakes it before it could get awkward.

“Nice to meet you, Harry. Heard a lot about you,” she chuckles softly.

“Hope you believed only the best,” he nods with a shy smile.

“Oh, of course,” she winks and Harry swears he felt his heart skipping a beat.

“We actually have something to talk to you about, Rems. Do you have some time for us?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah, just let me wash my face and I’ll be right back. There’s a small green room on the left, feel free to wait there,” she nods and disappears a moment later.

Sarah and Harry move into the room as Remi told them to and just a few minutes later she storms inside, a new shirt hugging her torso, a simple black one, but it’s tight unlike the one she wore for the concert. She sits into the armchair while Sarah and Harry have taken the small sofa.

“Alright, I’m all yours,” she smiles at them crossing her legs. Harry knows he should be the one to bid the offer, but it seems like he is not finding his words just yet. But Sarah is quick to talk when she realizes Harry is at a loss of words.

“I brought Harry today because I wanted him to see you play. We are currently looking for someone to take my place shortly,” she explains, placing a hand to her bump. “I know you’ve been freelancing lately so I thought you’d be interested in working with the band and of course Harry.”

“Oh!” She seems genuinely surprised at the offer. “So this was kind of my audition in secret?” she chuckles.

“You could say that,” Sarah smiles.

“And how did I do?” she asks, eyes meeting Harry’s gaze that hasn’t left her face since she arrived.

“You… definitely passed. The best I’ve seen so far,” he tells her and the smile on her face is worth everything for him.

“So what does this mean exactly?” This time Harry answers, finally finding his voice.

“If you are not too busy in the upcoming time, I would love to have you as my drummer,” he states, handing her the offer on a silver plate, basically.

It’s an offer most musicians dream of, so Harry thinks she’ll accept it right away, but of course, Remi is not like others.

“I’ll be needing some more details before I give you my answer though,” she smiles.

And that, she gets. A few days after the concert Remi meets up with the rest of the band and Jeff to talk about all the details. She clearly wants to know what she is jumping into and Harry respects that. At the end she accepts the offer and as Harry watches her sign the paperworks, a huge wave of satisfaction and excitement washes over him.

***

The public imagines Harry as the picture perfect human being who is always at his best, never making any mistakes, but that’s far from the real truth. He is as flawed as anyone else, it’s just that not many get the chance to see him in this state.

His bandmates are among the few privileged ones that are bound to see all his ups and downs as well and since Remi is part of them now too, she has witnessed his bad days since they have started working together.

Harry’s growl is heard in the microphone when he is supposed to be singing and the music soon comes to a halt. It’s probably the tenth time he is messing up the exact same part because his head is just not at the right place. He knows he should be at the top of his game, not wasting his colleagues’ precious time, but he just can’t bring himself away from the heavy thoughts that’s been occupying his mind lately. There are days when he is as free as a bird, not a worry in the world, but sometimes everything comes down at once and he feels like crumbling under the weight of his own career.

“Sorry guys,” he apologizes into the microphone, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes for a few seconds to collect himself. The silence in the auditorium where they are currently rehearsing for tour is harsh, everyone is tired and they can feel the nerves creeping up on them about the upcoming tour and making sure that everything is perfectly in place for the first show.

Remi looks around from behind her drum set, holding her sticks in one hand and she doesn’t like what she is seeing. A group that’s always so happy and carefree is now just a big ball of stress, this is not right.

“Guys, why don’t you all wrap it up for today, I’ll stay here with Harry and help him get it right,” she offers.

“How do you want to practice without everyone else?” Mitch asks, not at all in an offending way, more like out of curiosity.

“I’ll find a way,” she smiles softly and he doesn’t push it further.

As the rest of the band is packing up, leaving slowly, saying their goodbyes Harry is sitting on the floor next to one of the speakers, head hanging low, deep in his thoughts. Adam is the last one to leave the place and once it’s just the two of them, she stands up from behind her set and walks over to the desperate man.

“Get up,” she orders, not in a bossy manner, more of a ‘do what I asked, I’m trying to help’ way so Harry obeys. Standing up he towers above her, almost a full head taller than Remi, but still, sometimes she can make him feel so small.

Harry has noticed that her energy is making her push the air out of his lungs sometimes, just the way she stands, looks, moves around a room, it’s making her appear like the ruler of everyone around her. He has often found himself just staring at her from afar since she has joined the band and even though she has caught him ogling her a few times, he just still can’t bring himself to stop admiring her. He definitely has a fat crush on the new addition to the team, however now his feelings are pushed aside, their place taken by his anxiety and worries.

She takes his hands and pulls him to the middle of the stage, putting the microphone stand to the side so they have some space cleared out around them. She then turns to face him, a warm smile tugging on her lips while he is rather curious about what she has on her mind.

“Scream,” she simply tells him, his eyebrows immediately knitting together in confusion.

“Wha’?”

“Scream,” she repeats, but he is still lost about the situation. She chuckles a little before taking a few steps away from him, twirling around her heels before stopping facing the area where the audience is supposed to be during a concert. “Whenever I feel like I’m locked, like everything around me is so suffocating that I can’t even function normally, I take a minute and just let it all out,” she explains before taking a deep breath and hunching over, the most eardrum-breaking scream bursts out of her, making Harry jump a little.

She holds it long, until her throat is cracking up and she runs out of her breath, then the scream dies and she takes a deep breath, filling up her lungs again. Harry stands there, completely stunned, thinking that if anyone heard her now, they are surely convinced she is being tortured here.

When she turns back to face him again, she is smiling as if nothing just happened, like it’s the most natural thing to randomly scream from the top of her lungs on a casual Wednesday night.

“Now it’s your turn,” she tells him, but Harry doesn’t feel like it’s gonna be his thing at all. But he still turns to the side, clears his throat and lets out a not too forceful shout that’s quite saddening compared to her scream. “Oh, come on, I’m sure you can do better, Styles,” she chuckles, hands on her hips as she tilts her head to the side.

“Is this really necessary?” he questions, eyebrows still furrowed at her.

“Very much. Now come on, do it!”

“Remi, I--”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish, because she screams at him, knocking the air out of him once again, making him flinch at her sudden action.

“Scream!” she then snaps at him.

“I don--”

“Scream!” she repeats forcefully and Harry gives up. Taking a deep breath he lets his voice out in a hoarse scream that’s way more vibrant than his last attempt. “Yes! Again!” she grins nodding and he does it again.

And then again and again, until he feels like his chest is completely empty, like nothing is keeping a tight grip on his insides anymore. He is panting, mind racing as he realizes how much better he is feeling now, meaning that Remi’s technique worked.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, smirking, her arms folded on her chest.

“Fucking awesome,” he chuckles out of breath, running his hands through his messy hair.

“Great. You think you can handle going through the song now without messing up?”

“I… think?”

“Alright, grab your guitar and I’ll give you the beat.”

She moves back behind her set as Harry grabs a guitar, throwing the strap over his head, turning to face Remi behind him as he places the microphone stand in front of him.

“I’ll go softer on the beats, you just do your thing okay?” she tells him and he just nods, fingers already on his guitar.

Kiwi sounds a whole lot different with just the drums playing weakly and only one guitar playing, but it’s not what matters. Harry finally manages to go through the song without messing anything up.

When the song ends and the music is replaced by silence, Harry can’t help the grin stretching across his face.

“I fucking needed that,” he sighs, his head falling back for a moment as the last bits of euphoria settles in his body.

“Want to go over something else?” she asks, turning back and forth to the sides on her stool, playing with the sticks, twirling them between her fingers easily.

“You sure don’t want to go home like the others?”

“Let’s see what choices I have. I can go home and watch an entire season of Love Island on my own, eating leftovers from two days ago or I can stay here, play music with a hot dude. I think I’m fine with the second option.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up at how simply she just called him a hot dude, his heart fluttering in his chest again like the first time he saw her play, only difference is that now her eyes are piercing on him and it’s just the two of them in an empty room. He is already having thoughts that should probably be pushed down.

“Did you just call your boss hot?” he teases her then.

“I don’t think you’re my boss,” she scoffs. “You need me here more than I need to be here, so I think I’m the one having the higher ground,” she points out and Harry knows she is so damn right. “Besides, I know you find me hot as well.”

He is quick to blush at her words, but that doesn’t stop him from questioning her.

“What makes you think that?”

“I see you staring, Harry. I’m not oblivious or naive. I know you like checking my butt out every time I’m fixing my set leaning down,” she chuckles and now he is certain his ears are a deep shade of red, he was caught more often than he thought, it seems like. “Also…” she smirks slyly. “If you think you hid your hard-on cleverly the other day when I played my solo, you are wrong.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry mumbles, cursing himself for being such a horny teenager around her, but he can’t help it. The woman is the epitome of everything Harry finds so fucking attractive, it’s like she was made for his imagination specifically. “This, um, this is a little awkward, but I’m sorry--” “Oh, don’t be,” she chuckles. “I’m just lucky I’m a woman and my arousal can’t be seen that easily,” she comments and Harry almost chokes on his own breath.

Did she just admit she has been turned on by him before? When? What did she think about? What was it that made her turned on? Harry needs answers, however he is not given the chance to get them.

“Alright, you can choose two more songs we’ll go over and then we are off,” she simply says, as if they weren’t just talking about being horny a moment ago.

“Uh, maybe Only Angel and, um, Lights Up?” he prompts, trying his best to regain his composure.

“Cool. Let’s do them.” And with that, she switched back to work mode without batting an eye.

***

It feels like the crowd will never stop screaming. It just keeps going and going, people are probably losing their voice, but the screaming just continues as Harry stands at the front of the stage, his adrenaline jumping to the sky, eyes roaming around the full arena. He throws a few more kisses, placing his hands to his chest one last time before turning around and heading off the stage, his eyes meeting Remi.

She is not wearing her usual clothes, instead, she is now sporting a pair of high-waisted dress pants in a lavender color, a white top tucked into it, her matching blazer thrown to the floor, she probably got hot the moment she started playing. Her tattoos are on full display and she looks just as sweaty as Harry feels. But still, for him she is a sight he would love to look at for the rest of his life.

Their eyes meet and she smirks at him, eyes glimmering from the high she experienced through the concert, it’s a feeling they all share every time they perform together and it’s clearly like a drug neither of them wants to come clear of.

“Good job, Rockstar,” he reads her lips saying and he laughs, winking at her.

Ever since their one-on-one rehearsal, things have felt to change between them. It’s like a barricade that’s been lying between them has come down and they are feeling much more free around each other. Secret glances, touches and flirty comments are their usual and they don’t care that the people around them are starting to catch on it as well. They love the game they are playing and neither of them plans on stopping it.

Harry stops at her drum set, holding out a hand to help her up and walk her off the stage, knowing well she doesn’t feel the most comfortable in her stage clothes and feels a little too restricted by the end of the concerts, but she understands that her style does not go well with the look they are going for.

She snatches her blazer from the floor and gladly takes Harry’s helping hand as he walks her off the stage, her Gucci boots feeling a little too tight at the moment.

“One of these days I’m gonna rip these pants off,” she jokes, pulling on the tight waistband of them.

“Just make sure I’m around when it happens, Darling,” Harry teases, making her laugh as they walk backstage, everyone congratulating them and the band following behind on their way.

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“Very much,” he admits without shame, the blushing long gone from his cheeks and ears. The buildup has changed his nervousness around her lately and he is enjoying the teasing and flirting all too much.

The whole team agrees that tonight’s show was exceptionally good and that it deserves some celebratory drinks. A few blocks away from the hotel where everyone is staying there’s a cozy looking bar and the rather loud lot occupies half the place as they flow in and start ordering their endless rounds of drinks.

Harry is sitting at one of the tables they have taken up, going strong with his third beer of the night, half zoned out of the conversation with the small group he is sitting in. His eyes are fixated on Remi’s figure who is standing at the bar with Charlotte, unlike every other female around she is not sipping on some kind of fancy drink or a cocktail, she went straight for the crafted beers the place had to offer. She has changed her stage clothes, wearing her usual tight black jeans and a sheer top with a simple black sports bra underneath it. Harry can’t stop his eyes from raking down her body, taking in every curve, tattoo and tiny detail about her and he thinks that there is not one thing on her he doesn’t find attractive.

Her eyes find him, a playful smirk playing on her lips Harry has been thinking way too much about lately, and she cocks an eyebrow at him in a way that yells at him: Like what you see, Rockstar?

As an answer, he just simply shrugs with a growing smirk until she turns back to Charlotte, who is still talking to her, she hasn’t even noticed that Remi was focusing somewhere else for a moment. Remi laughs at something her bandmate said and Harry wishes he could be closer to hear her voice, he has grown quite a liking to her laughter, he has been trying to crack as many jokes lately as he can just to hear it.

He takes his eyes off her just for a second when someone at the table asks him something. He mumbles his reply and reaches for his beer as his gaze shifts back to her figure, only to find that Charlotte is not gone and a not so friendly looking guy is behind her, clearly trying to chat her up.

The dude is standing way too close to her for Harry’s liking, leaning in to talk to her, but she keeps backing away, however he does not care about that. She is clearly not enjoying the exchange and when the guy reaches up to her face Harry is quick to jump to his feet, ready to go to her rescue. But it’s not needed.

Just as he takes one step towards the scene near him, he witnesses as Remi grabs the bloke’s hand before he could touch her face and with a strong and quick move, she twists his arm behind him, keeping the guy on his toes as he is trying to escape her deadly grip on his wrist, his hand pushing into the middle of his back.

Harry’s mouth hangs open as he watches Remi tell something to the guy in a not too friendly manner before letting him go and the man flees before Harry could blink twice.

“That was impressive,” Harry tells her, walking up to her at the bar. Remi just shrugs, gulping down the rest of her beer.

“I know some tricks.”

“How come?”

“Grew up with three older brothers, had to learn how to defend myself when they decided to attack me out of nowhere.”

“Three brothers? That must ‘ave been wild,” he huffs impressed.

“I surely didn’t have a girly childhood, I’ve always been kind of a tomboy,” she shrugs again. As a teenager, she often wished she would be like the girls in her class, but later on she realized how big of an advantage it is that she speaks the boys’ language so easily.

“I think it just made you… badass,” Harry smirks, leaning against the bar counter.

“Is that what I am?”she arches an eyebrow cockily.

“Definitely. A handful, but the good kind.”

“Oh, just be careful, Rockstar. I might think you are trying to get into my pants,” she chuckles and as Harry hears her laugh he can’t stop himself from taking it further. She is too intoxicating.

“And what if I am?”

Remi doesn’t seem surprised at his comment, not even a bit. She is clearly enjoying the flirting once again, but when she answers, he surely is the one who is surprised.

“Then I gotta say you are working way too slow. I’m losing my patience.”

His eyebrows rise, lips parted as he stares back at her, the words that left her lips pushing the air out of his lungs once again, he is done for her. Utterly and completely. He wants to say and do a million things, but then settles on just one simple question.

“Want to get back to the hotel then?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” she smirks and simply heads towards the door without another word spoken. Harry is quick to grab his stuff from the table and catch up with her at the exit.

The crispy night air feels a little sobering as they both step out of the bar, heading to the nearby hotel with rushed steps, keeping their silence but they both are grinning madly. When their eyes meet they can’t push down the laughter and Harry grabs her hand before he starts running, pulling her after himself.

By the time they reach the hotel they are both out of breath, adrenaline running high once again as what’s been building up between them since the first time they saw each other is finally about to bloom fully.

Remi pushes the button for the elevator and as it moves down painfully slowly Harry’s hands find her hips, pulling her back against his chest. His lips tease the soft skin on her neck, peppering kisses everywhere he reaches while his fingers dig into her skin under her sheer top. She leans against him, head falling back to his shoulder and she pushes her bum against his crotch, a whiny moan escaping his lips that makes her smile in satisfaction.

“Fuck, Remi,” he breathes out, eager to finally have her all to himself and make all his fantasies come to life. The elevator finally dings and as the door slides open Remi turns in his arms abruptly and grabbing onto the collar of his shirt she simply pulls him inside, hand snapping on the button of his floor and just as the door slowly slides closed and they start moving up, her lips finally crash against his.

They are kissing hard, eager to take as much from each other as they can, they are both greedy, wanting the other all to themselves, the heat of the moment lighting up the small elevator. His fingers rake through her hair, grabbing a handful of it in each of them while one of her hands slide down his upper body until it stops on the obviously growing bulge in his pants. Harry moans shamelessly when she gives his erection a teasing squeeze and she smirks against his lips, satisfied with how easily he reacts to her touches.

Harry melts into her, wanting to devour every bit of this moment with her, he is seeing stars when she takes his lower lip between her teeth and tugs on it. A hand flies down to her ass and he squeezes it hard without shying about how much he is enjoying touching her.

The elevator reaches their floor and once again he grabs her wrist and starts pulling her down the hallway towards his room. Her lips are glued to his neck when he is trying to get his keycard from his back pocket and open the door, but when he finally succeeds, they basically fall into the room, tangled into each other and the door snaps closed behind them.

He is quick to push her against the door, lips attacking her neck, nipping and sucking on her skin until he is sure a mark is left on her.

“Off with it,” she pants, her hands tugging on his shirt and they work with all four of their hands to unbutton his shirt until it flies across the room. Remi pushes on him, hands spread across his hot chest as they get farther inside the room. The bump into some furniture on their way, lips glued together again until they finally reach the bed and fall right onto the perfectly made sheets. They are both showing dominance so it’s a constant fight for the lead between them, rolling around until at last Remi ends up on top, strangling his lap. She straightens up and grabs the hem of her shirt, getting rid of it fast before she does the same with her sports bra, baring her upper body completely to Harry’s greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, pushing himself up until he wraps his arms around her, mouth meeting her chest, littering her heated skin with sloppy kisses until his lips reach one of her nipples.

“Yes!” she moans as he starts playing with it, his hands coming to cup her breasts, massaging them continuously before his mouth moves over to her other nipple, giving it the same attention.

Harry uses her momentary weakness and turns them over, his crotch coming in contact with her center as he pushes his hips between her legs forcefully. He kisses down her stomach before he leans back and works fast on the buttons of her jeans. The tight material hugs her legs stubbornly, but he is eager to get rid of them and he soon succeeds, leaving her in just a lacy black thong. He undoes his own pants in a heartbeat, pulling them off and throwing them to the side before he gets on top of her again, kissing her lips so hungrily as if it hasn’t been just a few moments since he kissed her last.

She whimpers under his touch when he moves a hand between her thighs, running his fingers along her clothed folds, her arousal already soaking the fabric. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his hand into her underwear, her juices wetting his wandering fingers and he teases her hole and clit playfully.

“You better not fucking tease me, I don’t like that,” she pants, her dark eyes meeting hers and he can see the threat behind her words, she is not joking.

“Then what do you like?” he breathes out, eager to please her so much, she’ll forget about everyone else she has ever slept with.

She doesn’t answer, instead, a devious smile tugs on her swollen lips as she pushes him off until she is able to move. Harry is now kneeling on the bed and watches as Remi pushes her ass up into the air, back arching perfectly, her thong looking so delicious on her round butt and when she pushes herself back so her behind meets her throbbing dick in his briefs he could cry from the sensation. His hands immediately grab onto her asscheeks, pulling her even harder against himself.

“Smack it,” she breathes out, glancing over her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Do it,” she nods and Harry doesn’t need more encouragement, he lifts a hand up and smacks her ass so it leaves a little redness after it. Remi moans erotically, enjoying herself fully and seeing how much it turns her on, he smacks the other cheek as well.

“You are gonna be the death of me,” he whines and pushing down his briefs his erection finally springs free, he grabs it with one hand, stroking himself a few times while his other hand is keeping a tight grip of her ass.

Remi wants to see him naked, so she quickly pushes herself up to her knees and turning around her eyes fall on Harry stroking himself. Hunger fills her eyes as she launches forward, lips meeting his while her hands simply take the place of his on his length, doing the job for him.

“I’m on birth control. When were you last tested?” she mumbles against his lips before leaning back so she can get rid of her thong and Harry does the same with his underwear.

“Three weeks ago, haven’t been with anyone since and I’m clean,” he mumbles in a rush.

“I’m clean too. You can ditch the condom if you want to.” “I wanna feel you,” he pleads desperately as she lies back on the bed and he gets on top of her again.

“All yours,” she smirks, spreading her legs wide for him, the sight in front of him is easily beating any art he has ever seen, he thinks.

He positions himself to her entrance, but doesn’t push into her just yet, leaning down so his lips brush against her ear as he whispers into it.

“Let’s see if you feel just as amazing as I imagined.” And with that, he pushes into her with one swift movement, stretching her all the way until his whole length disappears inside her.

“Fuck, Harry!” she cries out, back arching at the sensation. He sucks on her neck once again as he starts moving in and out, fitting inside her so perfectly, he is convinced she was crafted just for him.

He is going fast and hard, their pants and moans completely filling the hotel room and they can only hope they can’t be heard by anyone right now. She circles her legs around his hips, the angle he is reaching making her toes curl behind his back.

“You feel so fucking good,” he chokes out, face contorting into a blissful frown as he is getting closer to his orgasm with each thrust.

“I want to be on top,” she gasps, already pushing on and this time Harry doesn’t hesitate to obey. He rolls to his back, pulling her with him so now she is on top. Her hands come to rest on his stomach as she starts riding her, circling and lifting her hips so perfectly, so breathtakingly that Harry could cum just from the sight of her bouncing on him, but the feeling is making it a mind blowing experience. His fingers dig into her hips as she is starting to move faster and faster, before Harry starts bucking his hips up to meet her rhythm as well, going so deep into her, he is having a hard time deciding where she ends and where he starts. They are completely merged together in one hot mess.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” she screams gasping, her head falling back as she doesn’t fall out of her rhythm, still being such a drummer even in the bed, dictating the beat.

Harry pushes himself up into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around her so he can push her naked chest against his, their sweaty skins sliding against each other relentlessly, creating friction.

“Scream my name when you cum,” he orders, his lips finding hers once again, but it’s a messy kiss, their teeth are clanking, noses are bumping together as they are both nearing their high.

“Harry, oh fuck!” she exclaims and with her next movement he can feel her clench around him.

“Louder!” he growls on the edge of his own orgasm.

“Harry! Harry!” she screams shamelessly, throwing him over the edge, a guttural moan bursting from him as they both fall out of the rhythm, satisfaction washing over them in waves.

“Oh shit!” she breathes out, lips against his as she keeps him close with her hands on the base of his neck.

“Fucking Hell, Remi. I think I almost had a heart attack,” he breathes out with a soft chuckle making her laugh as well. She pulls him into another kiss, but it’s way slower now, the hunger and greed taken by their pleasure, now it’s time for something softer.

When they fall back to the bed, arms and legs tangled as they are still trying to stay close to each other, Remi looks up at him with a tired smile.

“So, was it like you imagined?” she asks and he chuckles softly.

“A thousand times better. But now we have a problem on our hands.”

“And what would that be?”

“Now I’m hooked. I won’t be able to stop thinking about you, not that it hasn’t been the situation since the start.”

Remi chuckles shortly, pushing herself up enough so she can look comfortable at his flushed out face.

“Well, it’s a good thing we are kind of locked together for months.”

“I’m one lucky man, aren’t I?” he smirks, so full of himself before he pulls her back down, kissing her like they have all the time in the world on their hands.

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles au #harry styles imagine

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kookicrumbs · 3 years

Text

╰ pink love

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader genre: fluff word count: 2985 warnings; like one super minor curse word (hell)! just some cutesy stuff for ya today! summary: jungwon and y/n go on a build-a-bear date! a/n: i really wanted to do something sweet beacuse i love fluff a whole lot, so please enjoy c:

“Are we there yet?” I pout, tugging on Jungwon’s sweater. I attempt to sway him with my best puppy eyes, but he continues walking, pulling me along with him.

“This honestly reminds me of a movie,” He laughs out, “Since when did asking a million times get us there faster?”

I’m not actually that annoyed, but it’s fun to tease him. “What if this is all a movie? Ya think we can break the fourth wall?”

“I don’t know, I’d consider us powerful enough to. If this is a movie, I’m obviously the main character. Since you’re my girlfriend, you can be my sidekick!”

“Ohh, ha, ha, ha. If I’m the sidekick, pigs can fly.”

He puts on a shocked expression, pointing up into the air. “Did I just hear an oink all the way up there?”

“Shut up!” We giggle, shoving each other with our shoulders. Our footsteps match each other as we pad through the open-air mall. Warm sunlight drifts down, encasing us in a soft bubble of relaxation.

“Hey look, I think that’s it!” Jungwon tightens his grip on my hand and we take off towards the familiar shop. As we run, the eyes of other passerbys follow us, but I don’t take the time to feel embarrassed; life’s too short for that.

My legs are shorter than his, so I nearly trip several times. The universe is totally watching out for me today though, because we manage to arrive at the store’s entrance without suffering from a single scratch or bruise.

The Build-A-Bear logo passes overhead as we make our way inside. We are still glued together, buzzing from the excitement of our date. We’re going to make bears for each other! With any other guy I might have found it cheesy, but when Jungwon suggested we do it, my heart fluttered in a strange way.

“Hello! Welcome to Build-A-Bear Workshop! My name is Kiana,” A sunny looking lady welcomes us with a large smile on her face. The cute bobble headband perched on her hair seems to wave at us as well. “Will you two be needing any help today?”

Jungwon throws one arm over my shoulder and presses me tight to his side. His dimples peek out playfully as he responds. “I think we’re okay right now, we’re gonna make some bears for each other. This is my girlfriend!” He looks so proud as our eyes meet, and my stomach twists. Even though we’ve been dating for one and a half years now, whenever he looks at me like that, it feels like the day I first met him.

We’d been at the movie theatre, not together, but coincidentally there on the same day. Jungwon was sitting in the seat in front of me with a couple of his friends, while I was there with my own. His buddies were being idiots and throwing popcorn and other snacks at each other, when a whole bucket came flying at me. Being my easily scared self, I screamed and jumped backwards, simultaneously kicking my legs out and up. It took a few seconds to realize that my feet hadn’t collided with Jungwon’s seat, but instead his head.

I’d been absolutely mortified, and my friends’ muffled laughter didn’t help with that. I’d expected a huge tantrum from him, considering his friends seemed the type to start a huge fight over it, but his reaction was the complete opposite. In fact, he was apologetic and blamed it all on the buffoon who launched the snack at me.

I immediately caught feelings when he laughed and complimented my kick; apparently he knew taekwondo, and he thought I’d be good at it. He got that from a poorly done, unaimed kick to his own skull. To this day, I think I knocked something out of place there, but what can ya do.

Regardless, we ended up exchanging numbers, which is something that confused the hell out my friends and I. A month later, we started going out. I’ve dated some questionable people, so getting the chance to be with someone like Jungwon is a dream come true for me. Another plus, I finally get to check “Build A Bear date” off of my date idea list!

“You guys look adorable together!” Kiana gushed. My cheeks heat up, but not in an awkward way. “We have all our plushes over there. You can take a look and pick one, and then we’ll get that all filled up for you.”

“Thank you!” Jungwon and I say at the same time before strutting towards the plushies.

“We should split up so our bears, or whatever we pick for each other, stays a surprise! Okay?” I’m already looking at each option, and I begin to wonder how I’m ever going to pick just one.

“Since it looks like the queen has already laid claim to this particular piece of territory, I’ll go browse the accessories so I can get your plush decked out in a gorgeous outfit.” He winks and makes his way to the rows of plushie-sized clothing.

The variety of options is amazing. There’s the classic bears, but there’s also other cute things, like lobsters, giraffes, and seals. I’m a sucker for the classics, so I want to pick out a bear for Jungwon.

Two specific bears are in a fight for my love. One is a simple vanilla color with rainbow sprinkle accents, and the other is a pink bear with heart shaped ruffles. Oh god, do I just… buy both? No, that’s be stupid. Eeny meeny miney moe, a classic just like the bear.

I’m not disappointed when my finger lands on the pink bear, meaning I made the right choice and won’t have to switch to the vanilla bear out of a previously hidden lust for it. Awesome.

I peek my head around the aisle and still see Jungwon sorting through racks of outfits. In the time I’d spent picking a plush for him, he grabbed a basket and began filling it with stuff I couldn’t make out. Comfortable with the fact that he isn’t looking, I sneak over to the filling station, the pink bear clutched tightly in my hands.

“Hi! I’d love to get this guy filled, please!” The man working at this station has a name tag that reads, “Jordan”, and he looks equally nice as Kiana.

“Good choice,” He leads me to a filling spot. “Are they for you or for someone else?”

My chuckle causes the worker to smile. I reply while he gathers a few items. “My boyfriend and I came here for a cute date, so it’s for him! This one is super cute so I had to get it for him.”

“Aww, I’ll have to write that down. I'm sure my partner would find it a great idea too!” Jordan sweeps his arm across in a grand gesture, showcasing the variety of hearts and other button-looking objects that sit before him.

“Would you be interested in adding a sound to your bear? You can pick from any of these or you can record your own.”

I pick quickly, sure of what I want to do. “Mm, I’d like to do a recording, if possible. Make it extra special, right?”

“Of course, let me grab that for you and you can record your message!” He gets the heart and let’s me know what to do. Once again making sure Jungwon is not nearby, I record my message and hand it back to Jordan. He puts it in the bear, a small smile playing on his lips. Did he hear me?

“Alright, perfect. Any scents or are you ready to stuff?”

I choose a sweet raspberry scent and get the bear stuffed. It’s fun to push the pedal and see the stuffed animal become plumper, until I finally fill them all the way up. Hugging it feels like hugging a cloud.

I thank Jordan and hide the bear behind my back as I go to the dressing area. Jungwon seems to have moved on, as I spot him at the plushie picking station. I wonder what he’ll get me. Knowing him, it’s going to be adorable.

His eyes meet mine and I suppress a squeal, making sure the bear is out of sight. My strange salute makes him smile and he turns back to picking a plush for me, but not before making sure I won’t look while he gets one.

“So, what would you wear…” I whisper to the pink bear. He seems fashionable and needs something that fits his personality.

Each outfit makes me want to curl up and scream. They’re all so cute and tiny, and I can’t help but want to grab a whole bunch. I create outfits in my head, imagining each on the plushie. Letting the bear try them on seems like a step too far. Instead, I pick up a white button down shirt, pressed pants, little shoes, and a pair of heart shaped sunglasses from my pile and get to dressing.

Putting everything on the pink bear proves to be a struggle. “Come on… tuck in your tummy!” The bear’s legs don’t want to squeeze into the pants I picked. Looks like Build-A-Bear needs more size options. After a somewhat graphic commotion involving lots of pulling, pushing, and whispered yelling, he is finally clothed.

“Jungwon better like what I picked because I don’t think that’s ever coming off.” I brush off my shirt and hope that no one was watching my heated argument with an inanimate object.

I swiftly finish up the washing part of the process, which consisted of pressured air being blown at my plush. I enjoyed seeing the bear’s fur waving around luxuriously. It really fit his vibe. I end up having to consult an employee about what to do next since my amnesiac brain likes to forget simple things: it’s naming time.

After I scan the pink bear’s tag, a naming screen is brought up. I’m given suggestions like Mr. Cuddles, Tiny, and Snuggles, but I choose to make his own name. What do I name you?

Maybe Love? Too plain. Bear? Way too basic. Pink? Pinky? I clearly don’t get around to naming things very often. If it hadn’t been for my siblings, I would have named our dog Cat.

I rack my brain for anything. At this point, the next thing that pops into my head is gonna be his name. No turning back. And my brain provides. Sir Loves-a-lot is inexplicably forged in the depths of my mind, and it shall be the name of this honorable bear.

I imagine a knighting ceremony for Sir Loves-a-lot and enter his name into the computer. It goes through and I get a printed certificate with his name on it. I’m extremely excited to give him to Jungwon and see his reaction.

Jungwon seems to be finishing up at the washing station, so I pay and wait near the entrance of Build-A-Bear. I swing around my finished bear, which is tucked neatly into a bag so Jungwon can’t see it yet. Our date is soon to reach its peak: when we get to see our finished products.

“Hey! Look what I have!” Jungwon skips over to me in a playful manner. His joy envelops me as he gets nearer. His eyes are alight with what looks to be the same thing I’m currently feeling. Is it love?

I show off my bag, my competitive side instantly coming out. “I’ve got yours right here too! If you want to see it… you’ll have to catch me!”

Adrenaline shoots through me as I take off running, Jungwon quickly shifting into a quick runner. My laughs impair my speed as I hiccup and yell, Jungwon’s voice matching my own. We both giggle like idiots while our shoes run thin on the hard ground and our bags crinkle with the whip of the wind.

“Got you!” Jungwon takes care not to throw me onto the ground, instead grabbing my shirt and pulling me to his chest. He lets out an umph as I knock into him full force, still reeling from the sudden shift in direction.

“Jungwon!” A shriek of laughter explodes out of me as we tumble to the concrete with a soft thump. No one is around as we breath off our fit of giggles, still in a heap.

“Looks like my bear made it.” He lifts up his unscatched bag. “Can I say the same of yours?”

A strike of fear hits me, but quickly dissolves when I see my bag looks fine. “I am pleased to report that Combat Bear Number 2 has survived.”

“Combat Bear Number 2? Don’t tell me that’s his name. What a mouthful!” He puts a hand to his chest and sighs dramatically.

“Don’t be stupid, I named him Sir— wait! Don’t try and cheat!” I softly whack him on the shoulder, earning a look of faux-sadness.

“Ouch. But you named him Sir… something. What a noble name! Of course, nothing but the best can come from you.” He holds out the Build-A-Bear bag. “But I’m actually dying to exchange these, so swap?”

“If that isn’t the most relatable thing ever.” I hand him my bag and he gives me his. “You can open mine first!”

“Ooh, don’t mind if I do.” He eagerly opens the bag and pulls out the tissue-paper wrapped bear. The material easily comes off and he holds it up. His eyes seem to glow with delight.

“Oh my gosh.” Jungwon swipes at Sir Loves-a-lot’s fur, fascinated by the heart-shaped ruffles. “He’s so cute! His clothes are... so tight,” His face betrays his confusion, and I snicker as he speaks, “but he looks hella fashionable! I really hope mine will live up to these standards.” He seems to get nervous so I hold his hands to try and calm him down.

“What do you think I named him?”

His mouth shapes into an “O” and he pulls out the certificate. His previously timid face transforms immediately as he reads it.

“Sir Loves-a-lot? Why?! So cheesy but so good!” He crumples onto himself, his head coming to a rest between his knees. I’m overjoyed by his reaction and I press forward to hug his side.

“I love him so much. I’ll cherish him forever.” He looks at me pointedly, almost like he’s trying to tell me something. He switches course though, gesturing to the bag that lies at my feet. “Now open yours!”

I cross my legs to get more comfortable, and I open the bag, wondering what he made for me. My heart dances when I see what he chose. It’s a blue bear with stars in her fur and white wings protruding from her back. I didn’t even see it when I was picking my bear for him.

“Woah…” I hold her up, noticing a soft scent coming from her fur. When I lift the bear up to my nose, I can detect citrus. “Jungwon, you made her smell like lemons! I love lemon… and—and look how pretty! All the stars, and the color… she’s perfect.”

I look at the certificate, all bright and new, and see her name: Mrs. Lovey. Mrs., not Ms.

Jungwon looks at me innocently. “What do you think, am I making my point clear? The future is never far away and I—”

I can’t help but turn away as I feel a prickle in my eyes. Never will I ever cry on a date.

“Awww! Don’t cry, you’ll make me cry!” Jungwon leaps towards me, catching me off-guard. I end up falling backwards with a yelp, but he throws his hand under my head and catches me before I can slam into the concrete.

We stare at each other for what seems like hours but is in actuality only seconds. The silence is loud, but Jungwon slices right through it when he whispers to me, “Is this a kdrama?”

“And… off!” I sit up, hugging my bear closer to me. I’m overwhelmed by Jungwon’s confession. He wants us to really stay together. As in, I’d be his “one”.

“Is—is that what you want too? It’s okay if not, I’ll understand if you wouldn’t be ready, even in the months it would take to get there, unless sooner is better, and I—” He rambles, more emotional than I am, before I put a finger to his lips.

“Yeah, it’s what I want too. I think we should go with your plan, um, wait a little longer since we’re so young and I don’t want to scare my parents.” That earns a laugh out of us both. “But the answer to “would I want it?” is definitely yes!”

Jungwon hugs me tightly, squealing in my ear. I squeal right back, suddenly lighter than ever.

“Dude, I want to say something. Yep, here I go. I— I love you!” Jungwon yells out to me, loud enough to wake up everyone half-way across the world. My heart expands when he says it. I want to scream it back and kiss him under the blue sky, but he continues speaking.

“Okay, look, even though I would have totally respected you for saying you wouldn’t want what I want, I’m feeling so relieved right now. Like whooh! I could jump off a plane! Ride the biggest wave! Sir Loves-a-lot here would come with me, wouldn’t you?” He high fives his bear.

I’m confused when his eyebrow raises. “Did you put a sound in him? Why didn’t you tell me?” Truthfully, I’d forgotten too. However, I smirk as I remember what I recorded.

“Press it.” I urge him to push on the bear’s paw, and he does, putting it near his ear so he can hear it better. The clear sound of my voice comes through, bringing waves of pink, soft love to both Jungwon and I.

“I really, really love you.”

#jungwon #yang jungwon #enhypen #enhypen fic #jungwon fluff #jungwon fic #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #jungwon scenarios #fluff fic #kpop fic #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #enhypen writers

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ciggylungz · 4 years

Text

Show me yours

Blurb night- 1.8k words

(Request: Maybe more catholic school H but there bestfriend and there both v innocent and its their first time trying _______ (whatever you want) just a thought? (For the possible blurb night.)

“Did you hear what Lily was saying about Connor?”

y/n looked up when she heard Harry’s voice, the two of them in his room trying to finish their shared art project. They had to do a joint painting of the schools logo for the competition being held to pick a new art piece for the Catholic school. Y/n was currently trying to fix her minor mishap of mixing the purple too dark on the lower corner of the canvas.

“No? what happened?” her attention was divided between the art and Harry’s bite of gossip he was finding the correct verbiage for. “Lily said her and Connor did it!” his tone was slightly lower, whispering the last word so no one would hear a slight blush creeping onto his face. The revelation made the girl snap her head towards her best friend, eye’s widened a bit. The two of them were rather sheltered, they had attended the same private Catholic schools from the time they were in kindergarten up to the present as they were both in their second year of secondary school. The most rebellious thing they’ve ever really done was taking a second sip of the communion wine during mass, so hearing that their classmates may have had sex was very shocking to the pair.

“No way!” the project now took a backseat, y/n now fully invested in the drama Harry was relaying to her. “I swear! She said they did it in the bathroom!” , “Oh my gosh!...did she say anything like detailed?” the girl was just as nosy as her best friend. She wanted every drop of information she could squeeze from him. Harry smiled awkwardly, nervous repeating the words he’d heard from the two teens in question. “Uh…well she said they had s-sex in the bathroom, and Connor said she uh…’went down’ on him at his house..” while y/n knew the basics of sex, she didn’t exactly know much beyond ‘sex is between two married people and makes babies’ , so she questioned his revelation. “what does that mean?” , Harry wasn’t sexually experienced by any means, he was a kiss-less virgin but he would be lying if he said he didn’t know what certain sexual acts involved…he may be a good boy but he’s also a teenage boy with internet access.

His blush grew a few shades darker, opting to clear his throat and make sure the door was closed while he tried to find his voice again. “Uh..well-“ a uncomfortable chuckle escaped him while he tried to choke out the dirty words. “It’s when a girl puts their mouth on a boys private parts…” Y/n gawked at Harry, totally shellshocked at the fact that was a thing! She couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to do that, “Wait what?! Isn’t that dirty? Don’t you pee from there?!” the girl was now standing on her feet her innocent mind trying to comprehend this new information. “Well…yea but I don’t think it’s dirty? If you don’t shower maybe, and the boy doesn’t pee in their mouth…” a nervous hand reached up to scratch the back of Harry’s flushed neck.

“that’s so…weird….h-have you ever done that?” Y/n asked him with a slight bow of her head locking eyes with him, “No! I’ve never done it! I’ve just s-seen it before tha’s all…” the boy shifted uncomfortably, “You’ve seen it? Where?”

“in…porn”

Once again, a comically dramatic gasp ripped through the air from Y/n. she knew of porn, her brother had gotten caught watching it once and that’s the first time she found out people have sex on camera. That was another huge shock to her, yet this one seemed bigger.

“You watch porn?!”

“shush! you’re going to get me in trouble y/n” Harry shot her a glare, yanking her forward to sit on his bed with him, his palm moving to cover her mouth. “Don’t yell that! It’s a secret” Harry cast a nervous glance towards his shut bedroom door before removing his hand from her face. Y/n giving his chest a nice swat with furrowed brows. “Don’t do that again, jerk” Harry simply rolled his eyes. “Then stop being so loud!”

Y/n pouted slightly, crossing her arms over her chest and huffing. “Or what?” she challenged “Or ill glue your mouth shut.” His fingers moved to flick her forehead, which was a mistake since Y/n then chose to start yelling “MISS AN-“ yet she was silenced by his hand once more. “I’m serious Y/n stop it!”

Y/n suddenly got an idea, decided she’d bargain her way out of this one.

Harry knew that look, his eyes widened realizing she was about to suggest something that he may not want to hear. Y/n was a sweet girl, but she had a bit of a bossy side too.

“If you show me the video, I won’t tell.”

Well, Harry expected something, but definitely not that one. “W-wait what?” he couldn’t believe Y/n had just asked him to show her porn! What was he supposed to say? He knew if he showed her he’d have to take a cold shower, but he didn’t want his mom knowing he watched the videos either. “If you show me the video I won’t tell.” Her statement was very level, the angelic doe eyes coming back to persuade him, and well Harry was a sucker for that look.

Soon enough the pair were sat against his headboard, Harry’s laptop open to a private tab with Pornhub opened on it. He chose on of his favorites, a simple pretty tame blowjob video.

“are you sure you want to see it?” his palms were sweating, knees twitching every few minutes trying to control himself and keep his pants from tightening. “Play it, Harry.” Y/n took control, tapping the space bar to start the video.

The logo played before it got to the video, a man sitting on his couch filming his girlfriend kneeling in front of him slowly moving to undress the man in front of her. Y/n watched the screen intently while the woman went to work, tugging the mans cock free and stroking it but Y/n being Y/n the video didn’t suddenly change the atmosphere like it does in a romcom, instead she was full of questions and comments.

“Wow, I didn’t know boys privates looked like that. It looks kind of like a snake.” Harry was happy Y/n wasn’t making the situation too serious, laughing a little breaking the tense atmosphere listening to her talk. He tried to focus his gaze more on the wall in front of him then the porn playing on his computer so he didn’t pop a stiffy in front of her. “Uh…kinda? I guess…” , “Does your penis look like that too?”

Harry choked on air a bit, suppressing a cough. He sweats he can feel himself burning alive from the blush on his face. “I don’t think my penis looks like a snake y/n, no. I think it looks like a penis.” His response got him a ‘hmph’ from his friend which he of course, laughed at. Yet he wasn’t entirely prepared for her next sentence.

“Show me yours?”

This time Harry’s eyes were the ones wide as saucers, his jaw slightly slack and body gone tense. “What?!” Y/n giggled, finding his reaction a bit silly since they were already watching two people engage in oral, how is this any more shocking? “What? Show me yours” she shrugged slightly, Harry was trying to keep his head from exploding but an idea popped into his brain right before the urge to combust took over.

“I show you mine, you show me yours?”

“Harry I don’t have a penis.” Y/n replied with a ‘duh’ eye roll, causing an annoyed groan to come from her friend. “I am aware of that, smarty pants. I mean…if I show you my penis, you show me your boobs.”

He expected to get a smack or a immediate refusal from her, but surprisingly Y/n nodded, “That’s fair, I’m not putting your penis in my mouth just for the record.” She gave him a pointed look as her hands traveled up to loosen her uniform tie and start fumbling with the buttons of her shirt.

The boy felt frozen in place watching his best friend start to undress in front of him. His teenage boy mind was going crazy, this was the first time he was going to get to see boobs in person, he was a bit scared he might keel over and die from a hormone overdose.

“What are you waiting for? You’re supposed to show me yours. I’m not taking my boobs out if you’re not holding your end of the bargain up ,Harry.” Y/n’s hands stilled, giving him a pointed look that broke his trance quickly fumbling with his pants to shove them off his hips the outline of his plumping cock showing against the white and grey checker print of his boxers.

“Who’s gonna go first?”, his throat felt painfully dry while he talked swallowing hard after he finished. “You duh!” the girl pushed his shoulder lightly and pointed to his crotch waiting for him to reveal himself.

The boy took a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly as he tugged his cock through the flap in the front of his underwear. He grunted quietly, the cold air hitting his swollen tip. For a few moments nothing was said, Y/n quietly observed his organ taking in the details and pondering her thoughts before speaking, “Yours looks better than his, it’s prettier. Still kind of looks like a snake though.”

Harry sighed, he was glad she didn’t make a comment on his size or anything negative but the snake comment wasn’t exactly the erotic language he needed to get himself off, and then he remembered the deal. “Your turn.”

Y/n nodded, giggling a little bit as she unhooked the clasps of her bra and let them slip down her arms. Her breasts finally came into Harry’s view and god his balls were already constricting. He feared he’d really be the guy who cums in 2 seconds just looking at a girl, but this would be the right situation for it. Y/n didn’t have any clue how long boys lasted so if he was to bust then she probably wouldn’t tease him she’d just have more questions.

“God…they’re pretty Y/n.” The girl smiled shaking her chest a little so they bounced in front of his eyes. “Thanks, I grew them myself. I’m a b cup” she was adorable, so blissfully unaware of what she was doing for him. A smile and playful giggles still radiating from her while he was trying to keep himself from passing out.

“Can I touch-“

His request was soon cut off, not by Y/n but by the door swinging open and his shocked mother standing behind it.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry style drabble #blurb night #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept #harry styles request

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sam-and-buck · 3 years

Text

At Home With Captain America

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes

Rating: G

Words: 7.7k

Also on AO3

“What can you tell me about how you got to know the Winter Soldier?”

Wilson chuckles. “The first time I met Buck—Sergeant Barnes—he ripped the steering wheel out of the car I was driving on the freeway. He got on the roof, punched through the windshield, pulled the steering wheel off. Just like that.” He mimes with his hands as he describes it.

This doesn’t sound like an auspicious beginning to me, but Wilson is laughing.

At Home with Captain America

By: Adrien Davis

Published: February 2, 2026, 3:35 PM

To say I’m intimidated by interviewing Captain America in his own home would be an understatement, and I would never have thought to ask if I could do that if he hadn’t personally invited me. Normally, I’d start one of these articles by describing the location, maybe even throw in an anecdote or two about how I got there, but that’s not going to be possible here.

Sam Wilson lives on [REDACTED] in [REDACTED]. It was a windy day.

Here’s what I can tell you: it’s an apartment. A nice one. Two bedroom, two bath.

“Am I allowed to describe the inside of your house?” is one of the first things I say to him, after getting his permission to turn on my recorder.

“Go right ahead,” he laughs, arms crossed over the worn USAF logo on his gray t-shirt. “Just don’t put the street name in there or anything.”

Wilson gives me a moment to poke around. Whoever decorated this place has good taste; it’s no haphazard bachelor pad. There’s an exposed brick wall in the otherwise slate blue living room, several plants (which I assume are fakes—albeit convincing ones—since Wilson is, by his own admission, not home as often as he’d like to be), a sturdy walnut coffee table, and a magnificently squishy-looking red couch.

It’s unmistakably lived in, though. I don’t get the sense that the place has been scrubbed spotless or particularly arranged for my visit. There are two abandoned mugs on coasters sitting on the coffee table, along with several different remote controls, and a stack of half-finished books with dog-eared corners. A pile of mail has been pushed to the side. Next to the door, a wall-mounted coat rack holds several leather jackets in shades of brown and black, and at least as many sweaters, mostly navy blue, charcoal and maroon. The shoe rack underneath houses multiple pairs of black combat boots, worn running shoes, house slippers. And next to that, on the floor, a large, gleaming silver case with red detail that could only contain Wilson’s Falcon wingpack. The legendary shield is propped up against it, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

I’m trying to imagine how it would be to leave the house for him. Got my keys, wings, phone, shield, wallet?

There are pictures on the walls and the mantle above the fireplace, under the television. People who I can only assume are Wilson’s relatives by their similarly gap-toothed smiles. Veterans. Wilson in full air force gear next to a blond man I don’t recognize. Then Captain Steve Rogers, in the 1940s with the Howling Commandos, and in the twenty-first century by himself. Wilson with Rogers, and Natasha Romanoff. One conspicuously empty nail where a large frame would clearly fit.

Scattered among these are several very old, dour black and white photographs of a dark-haired family. The first shows a mother, father and two small children, a boy and girl. The second is the mother and children only, taken some time after, judging by their apparent ages. The third is several years later still; the same children with light eyes and dark hair, but they’re teeangers now, and without parents. They look haunting and out-of-place among the glossy prints of Wilson’s big, happy family in matching 80s colorblocked tracksuits, or Wilson and his sisters in front of a Christmas tree, surrounded by wrapping paper and toys.

There’s also a wood-framed painting that stands out: an idyllic watercolor of a little farmhouse with a green roof and shuttered windows in a field. A small pile of lumber and a white mailbox make up the foreground. The most distinctive feature is the signature at the bottom: S.G.R. I know those initials.

“Captain Rogers painted this?”

“Uh huh,” Wilson nods fondly, hands now in his pockets. “Man of many talents. Maybe every talent. Having a hard time thinking of anything he wasn’t good at.”

I hear the unstated in that. A tough act to follow.

I think, for purposes of journalistic integrity, I should probably insert my bias before we go any further. We had never met before this interview, but I am and have always been enormously supportive of Captain Wilson and the work he’s done, and have written myriad articles and think pieces about him over the past several years. He’s shown himself time and again to be a man of unshakable integrity and endless emotional intelligence, and frankly, I’m more worried about the poor sucker who’s going to have to follow Wilson. Rogers did a lot of great things, but among the best of them was choosing a successor.

I tell him as much and he smiles, looking down at his shoes.

“Yeah, I know that’s how you feel,” he says. “I requested you for this piece, actually, because of that. People are going to accuse me of wanting a softball interview here, and maybe they’re right. For this one, I think that’s what I need.”

I’m not sure what he means by that, but he continues before I can ask.

“We should probably do this in the kitchen.” Wilson indicates behind us with his thumb, after I’ve stood silently in his living room for probably way too long. “That couch is too comfortable. I end up falling asleep every time I sit on it.”

The kitchen is, perhaps, a little cramped. There’s a large, dark marble-topped kitchen island that just fits in the center of the room with four bar stools tucked under it. The cabinets are tall, with glass doors showcasing a massive collection of healthy, but non-perishable food. The shelf nearest us holds several well-used bags of pantry supplies: chickpea flour, arrowroot starch, raw sugar. There’s a pasta shelf above it, but no Kraft Mac in sight; everything is lentil-based, chickpea-based, black bean-based.

“Have a seat,” Wilson says, inclining his head towards one of the barstools. “Can I get you something to drink?” He opens the refrigerator.

“We have…” he pauses. “Water. Sorry, just got back from Ecuador this morning. Sparkling or still?”

I accept a glass of still water from Captain America. He sits down on the stool next to mine.

His house, or what I’ve seen of it, is homey in a way I can’t imagine any of the late Tony Stark’s buildings ever were, and I mention this.

“I lived at the Avengers Tower briefly,” Wilson tells me. “Tony liked everything streamlined, really modern. Kinda sparse for my taste. I needed some real furniture when I got out of there, you know? Like, things that were made by human beings. Stuff with ‘character,’ that’s what Steve would call it.”

“So you decorated this place?”

“I think it’s about fifty-fifty,” Wilson says, indicated with vague hand motion.

This is my in.

This interview, as you may have read on the cover description, is actually intended to be an exposé about the working partnership between Wilson and Sergeant James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, but I didn’t want to be the one who brought him up first.

All I knew going in is that they’re a package deal in the field, a unit. We’ve all seen the footage.

Also, Barnes lives here too, but evidently, he’s not home.

“What can you tell me about how you got to know the Winter Soldier?”

This doesn’t sound like an auspicious beginning to me, but Wilson is laughing.

“I hope he apologized to you for that,” I tell him, because I’m not exactly sure how else to respond.

“Oh yeah, of course he did, even though he knows I don’t blame him for it. He doesn’t remember it at all,” says Wilson. “There are a lot of gaps, to be honest. Most of it is gaps.”

What Wilson is likely referring to here is the decades-long period in which Barnes was under the complete mental and physical influence of the Nazi splinter group known as HYDRA. If you’re unfamiliar with the history of Sergeant Barnes, I’ll list a couple of great articles for you to read at the end of this one. I assure you, it’s worth your time.

Wilson has without a doubt been Barnes’s most ardent supporter. He’s spoken out many times about not judging Barnes based on the actions he couldn’t control, and has masterfully refocused the national conversation towards Barnes’s invaluable contributions in World War II and in the recent war to bring half the universe’s population back into existence. Wilson has been quoted as saying, “The least extraordinary thing about Sergeant Barnes is his vibranium arm.”*

But perhaps Wilson’s most effective act towards building public confidence in Barnes was his decision to designate him as an almost exclusive mission partner. Even if the general populace has been reluctant to trust the Winter Soldier, it is abundantly clear that Captain America does, absolutely. Barnes is a constant in the footage of Wilson’s exploits. The moment he touches down on the ground after a successful arrest or negotiation, Barnes is right there. He’s been sighted treating Wilson’s minor injuries, tightening straps on the Falcon wingsuit before Wilson takes flight, and he stands quietly behind Wilson during almost all of his many public appearances.

Despite his ubiquitous presence in Wilson’s company, Barnes has remained elusive for comment. He has no social media, and the only public statement he’s made to date was in November of 2023, in support of Rogers’s decision to pass on the legacy of Captain America. Barnes expressed his categorical agreement that Wilson is “the best and only choice for this job,” describing him as both “worthy of the honor,” and “equipped for the burden.”**

“Is it fair to say that Sergeant Barnes almost comes with the shield?” I ask.

Wilson makes a face.

“No, it isn’t,” he shakes his head. “The shield is an accessory; my partner is not. I really don’t like it when people lump him in with the shield. It sort of minimizes how Bucky and I have made a series of conscious choices to be the way we are now. Especially because he’s experienced being fully stripped of his personal autonomy—as a veteran, I can say I’ve had a taste of that, but nothing like what he’s been through—and I think it cheapens his choice to do what he does if we imply that he, as a person, is a package deal with my title, you know?”

The therapist in Wilson is showing. In addition to his decorated military history and service as Captain America, he has a background in psychology, and a Masters degree in Social Work with a focus on Veterans’ mental health issues. He’s worked extensively with the VA as a leader in group therapy.

“So Sergeant Barnes is by your side day in and day out because he wants to be?”

This, Wilson has another unequivocal answer for. “Yes. He wants to be there, and I want him there. And here at home.”

“Tell me a little more about that,” I say. “After the...steering-wheel-stealing incident. Once he was more or less himself. Did you two hit it off right away?”

Wilson laughs again. “Not at all,” he says. “I think there was this resentment, kind of, in the beginning. Like I’m Steve’s best friend and no, I’m Steve’s best friend. Real elementary school stuff. He really got on my nerves; just everything about him annoyed me, and the feeling was mutual. Looking back…”

And here Wilson pauses for a moment. He chews on his bottom lip, and I notice all at once how nervous his body language has become. His fingers are drumming on the table, the line of his shoulders is taut, his leg is bouncing. He clears his throat though, and seems determined to continue.

“Looking back, I can see where it was coming from. It wasn’t clear to me at the time, but now I get it. There was this one time, it was during the fight over the Accords. We barely knew each other at this point. Buck and I, we’re fighting Spider-Man—who neither of us had ever even heard of before, like, that afternoon—and he pins us to the floor of this hangar with that goo he shoots out of his wrist. Really gross. I manage to get Redwing [Wilson’s drone] to fling Spider-Man out the window. So we’re just laying there, me and Bucky, stuck. And he goes ‘you couldn’t have done that before?’ And I just turn to him, and I’m like, ‘I hate you.’”

At this, Wilson really starts cracking up. He relaxes visibly, just a little.

“Did you mean it?”

“I sure thought I did,” he says, still chuckling. “Like, I wasn’t about to take it back.”

He continues: “Anyway, so after Steve, you know, passed on the shield to me, that’s when things really changed. Actually, back up a second. After the whole Accords incident, we ended up sending Bucky to Wakanda for like… to hear him describe it, it’s like we sent him for a two-year spa retreat. They unscrambled his brain as best they could—and really, I think it’s a good thing they couldn’t do any more because I wouldn’t wish some of his memories on my worst enemy—and he spent like months meditating in a hut and milking goats and going to therapy every day. When I met up with him again, I barely would’ve recognized him.”

“So that’s kind of when you guys reconciled? The arguing stopped?”

“Oh, it never stopped,” Wilson says with a grin. “We still argue all the time, about all kinds of things. Just ask Rhodey [Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, aka War Machine] or Scott [Lang, Ant-Man] or anybody. But the dynamic shifted a little, I think. Bucky’s got… Like I can’t imagine some of the stuff he’s been through, but he’s just kind of learned to roll with it. He is hands down the most resilient person I have ever met. Easily. It was real hard to keep hating him when he was so dead set on getting me to like him, too.”

“Can you walk me through the process by which you two decided to live together?”

“Yeah,” he says, and the nervousness is back. He smooths his hands on his thighs over his jeans. “So, basically, once I got the shield, we’d just barely come back. Like everyone else who got… I—I still don’t know if this is like an okay question to ask people. Do you mind me asking if you were dusted?”

I don’t mind. “Yeah, I was.”

“So you get it,” Wilson says. “Might be the most vulnerable I’d ever felt. I got nothing. Nowhere to go, just the clothes on my back. Then Steve hands me this shield and this enormous legacy—and I look back and there’s Bucky, standing a couple of yards behind me, nodding like, yeah, it should be you. He was the first person who knew, and he’s been right by my side ever since.”

“So you decided to stick together?”

“The original conversation about it was pretty logistical,” Wilson says, rubbing his beard. “There was so much going on, it’s hard to remember exactly what was said, but I think it was along the lines of him offering to fetch the shield for me while I learned how to throw it, and stuff like that. Just easier to do when we’re together 24/7.”

“So rooming together didn’t actually grow out of field partnerships?”

“It was definitely the other way around,” says Wilson. “Basically, I’d get a call from the powers that be that there was something I had to go check out, and it was easier to just walk across the hall than to pick someone else, try to wake them up, and then have to rendez-vous and strategize.”

“I’ll bet,” I say.

Wilson nods. “Easier and faster. Bucky can go from dead asleep to fully geared up in under three minutes. The first few times were like that, with me just knocking on his bedroom door like ‘hey, I need—’ and he comes barreling out covered in knives thirty seconds later like, ‘where are we going?’ We just… clicked. And I’ll be honest; I was really surprised. He’s got my six, I’ve got his, and I never question it. I started asking for him specifically on all my assignments after that, and Fury [Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.] and everyone caught on quick that that’s how it was gonna be. I don’t have to ask anymore.”

“Do you see this continuing long term?” I ask.

Wilson doesn’t hesitate. “Definitely.”

“How would you describe your relationship with Sergeant Barnes now?” I ask. “Clearly you’re partners in the field, and roommates, but…”

Wilson takes a deep breath. His hands are shaking, but he clasps them together in front of him and looks me straight in the eye.

“As of last month,” he says slowly, “Bucky and I are married.”

In the spirit of my interview with Captain America, who stands for honesty and justice and integrity, I think you deserve to know the truth. I want to say that I didn’t drop my recorder, but I did. It clatters to the floor, luckily undamaged.

That startles Wilson into a laugh. For the second it takes me to retrieve my recorder from under my seat, I wonder if he’s kidding.

“Come on,” he says. “Say something. I’m getting nervous.” He’s smiling, but not joking.

“Congratulations,” I blurt out. “I...really?”

“Yeah.” The tension leaves his body in a rush. “We, uh, it’s official.”

I’m struggling for questions at this point. The talking points I was planning on hitting in this interview are all suddenly moot, and I decide to throw out my mental to-do list entirely. I finally settle on, “How long have you two been together?”

“A little over two years,” Wilson answers. “About three months after I took up the shield.”

“How did it happen?”

Wilson grins. “Uh, well. I had sort of been…having feelings about him, you know, for awhile. Actually, it’s more like I had noticed that I was having more-than-friendly feelings in the few weeks leading up to that. I think the main reason we had so much trouble getting along in the beginning is that it took some time to process those feelings as attraction. So in a way, I was interested on some level right from the get go.”

“Even if that person wasn’t...behind the wheel of their own brain, so to speak—” I start, but Wilson interjects.

“I see what you did there.”

“—I think it would take a lot for me to be attracted to someone who had previously tried to kill me.”

“Less than I would’ve expected, that’s for sure,” Wilson says. “But it’s not like I was checking him out while he was busy tearing my wings off my back; I’m talking about once he was mentally present in his body. That was like...two years after the whole steering wheel incident, and I hadn’t seen him at all in the interim. I didn’t even know where he was during that time.”

“So it had at least been awhile since he had tried to kill you?”

“Oh yeah. And plenty of other people tried to kill me in those two years, and they weren’t even sorry about it. You gotta adjust your standards, you know?” he says with a laugh.

“Anyway, if you ask him, he says he’s been all in since the moment he saw me back in Wakanda after his little vacation. Now we’re talking about four years since the steering wheel thing. Me, Steve, Nat and everybody; we landed in Wakanda and Bucky’s there. He and I look at each other over Steve’s shoulder, and like, bam, that was it for him.

“And then there’s five years where neither of us exist. We get back, we fight the monsters, Steve gives me the shield, and while all this is happening, apparently Bucky has come to the conclusion that he’s in love with me. After that, he was just waiting for me to catch up.”

“And he just knew you’d get there? Did you give him any indication that you were interested, or…?”

“I definitely did, but not intentionally,” says Wilson. “He’s very perceptive—like way more than I was giving him credit for—but I think it’s a combination of that and me not being as subtle as I think I am.

“Because, see there’s this invisible line I’ve drawn here—at least that’s how he was thinking about it—and I keep dancing a little closer to that line every day, the line being the no homo line; the point where you can’t take it back. The flirting, I mean. I, of course, think he has no clue and that I’m being slick about it. Actually, lemme ask—how much detail are you looking for here? Like do you want to know the whole story or just—”

“Lay it on me,” I tell him. “Just however you want to tell it.”

“Alright. Where was I? So I’m just there going back and forth on whether or not it’s a good idea to risk this roommate-partner-buddy thing we’ve got going here by trying to make a move that, frankly, I have no clue if he’s gonna be receptive to. You have to remember we’re talking about a guy from the Great Depression here, like that’s the time period he grew up in. I’m no historian, but I think it’s common knowledge that if you were a man who was attracted to men back then, you mostly kept that to yourself. The chances of him bringing up his sexual orientation unprompted are very low. And like, I’m 90% sure I’ve caught him looking before, but that’s never a guarantee, you know?

“So, instead of sitting down and having a mature conversation about my feelings, I keep doing this thing where, for example, say he’s trying something new with his hair, and I’ll say something nice about it. And then I follow up immediately with, ‘Almost makes up for your ugly mug,’ or whatever, which—I mean, he’s such a good-looking guy, like what ugly mug, obviously I don’t mean that. And he’s not stupid, he knows what he looks like. So he picks up on what I’m doing, doesn’t say anything, and lets this go on for months.

“Eventually, there’s one night… We’re on the couch, watching like, I don’t know, Seinfeld or something. Whatever was on. He’s reading a book on my tablet, looking all relaxed and handsome. I can’t have that, so I start egging him on like I usually do, and I guess I got close enough to the line that he just puts the tablet down, turns to me and says, ‘Sam, you know there’s no line, right?’

“And I’m going, okay, what does that mean? Like, is this a conversation I was previously a part of and forgot or...? Where is this ‘line’ thing coming from? And so I ask him—I think I just said, ‘What?’ At that point he looks me right in the eye, and he goes, ‘You can kiss me if you want to.’” So I did, and he was ready for it, like no hesitation. Like I said: waiting for me to catch up.”

This, as you can imagine, is far beyond the level of detail I could have ever imagined I’d get about Captain America’s love life in my wildest dreams. I decide to ask a new question, because I feel like I’d be pushing my luck to delve further when he’s already been so open about this experience.

“Who proposed and when?”

“Ooh,” says Wilson, “I guess technically I did, but I’m gonna go on record saying that one was a group effort.”

“Well, now you’re gonna have to explain that,” I tell him. “What’s a ‘group effort’ proposal look like?”

“Hmm. I backed myself into that one, didn’t I?” he says. “First, I want the record to show that before I called you guys to set up this interview, I specifically asked Bucky if there were any us-related topics or whatever that were off-limits to discuss and he said ‘No,’ and I said, ‘Are you sure?’ and he said ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ and I said, “You better be sure, because whatever I say is gonna be public knowledge after that,” and he said “I know, I get it, Jesus.” Then I dropped it because he sounded like he was getting kinda irritated. If he didn’t want me to tell you any of this stuff, that would’ve been the time to speak up, so here we go:

“We were at… Well, I can’t tell you exactly where we were, but let’s just say we were working. There was nobody else in the room, but we were getting ready to go out in the field; seemed like it was gonna be a pretty...intense situation out there. I had my whole suit on, he was calibrating his arm, and the conversation ended up at living wills. As you can imagine, that’s an important thing to have when you’re in this line of work. So he proceeded to tell me that the last time he’d updated his was never and that his next-of-kin was nobody. And I was like, ‘So what, your grenade launchers are all gonna go to the state? I don’t even get the red one?’ and I’m just giving him a hard time, you know, and he’s like, ‘Sam.’

“And then, my god, he just goes all the way off about how much he loves me and trusts me and I—we don’t usually go there. I mean, we’d been on the same page for a long time as far as, we’ve established that we’re in love, this relationship is going well, but it’s not something that we’d verbalized in any real depth. That’s just a level of like, exposure, vulnerability, I think, that doesn’t come naturally to most people, myself included.

“So he just keeps talking—and I think it’s fair to say he’s not a very talkative guy most of the time—and I’m standing there with my jaw on the floor because he is not holding back, and this is all clearly unrehearsed. Like, this is just how he really feels about me, apparently. By the time he’s finished, I’m crying, he’s crying, it’s a mess. And so I open my mouth, and I have no idea what I’m gonna say to all that, but what comes out is, “Will you marry me?” I wasn’t planning on it, but suddenly I just knew. Best decision I ever made.”

“And you’ve made some very important decisions in your life.”

“That’s right. I know which ones I’m leaving out by saying this was the best, and I stand by it.”

At that moment, as if on cue, the lock clicks, and Sergeant Barnes walks through the front door carrying two very full bags of groceries on his vibranium arm. He tosses a set of car keys into a little dish and locks the door behind him.

“Hey, babe,” Wilson calls out, catching his eye.

“You did it?” Barnes asks.

“Yeah.” Wilson tilts his head up.

Barnes rounds the corner, pecks Wilson on the lips with all the comfort and familiarity of a couple who have done it a thousand times. I hear him murmur, “Proud of you,” under his breath.

Barnes sets the groceries on the counter in front of me as Wilson introduces us.

“Call me Bucky,” says Barnes, reaching out with his right hand to shake mine. There’s a silver band on the fourth finger, and when I look back over at Wilson, he’s slipping his wedding ring out of the pocket of his jeans and putting it back on his left hand.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d be able to go through with all this,” he says, gesturing to me and my notepad. “I took the wedding pictures down in the living room too, before you got here.”

“I knew he could do it,” Barnes tells me. His voice is low, soft, and so quiet, a hint of an old Brooklyn accent underlying his words even now, despite everything he’s been through and everywhere he’s been. He shrugs out of his nondescript hoodie and tosses it on one of the unused stools, grabbing a kettle and putting it on the stove.

“Hibiscus or chamomile?” he asks me, pulling two boxes of tea bags from one of the grocery bags and letting me choose before turning to Wilson. “Bad news, hon. They were out of your whole wheat pita.”

“Again?” says Wilson, with feeling. “Really?”

“They only had the gluten free. I guess I could check the other store tonight, but it’s supposed to rain later, and I kinda don’t feel like going out again,” Barnes says, head buried in the cupboard as he stacks cans. “I was thinking maybe I could just try making ‘em. How does that sound? How hard can it be, right?”

“‘How does homemade pita sound,’ he says,” Wilson repeats, jabbing a thumb towards Barnes. “Can you believe this guy?”

“I honestly can’t.” It’s the truth. My brain refuses to reconcile this man with the supposed playboy I read about in my 11th grade history textbook, nor the internationally feared assassin.

“Is that a yes or no on the experimental homemade pita?” Barnes asks Wilson, still deep in the cupboard. “No promises on quality.”

“That’s a yes, Buck,” says Wilson, then he turns to me. “Don’t listen to him; he’s a great cook.”

The Winter Soldier is a great cook, I write in my notes. And then I realize this is my moment to shine.

“I actually know a good recipe for homemade pita,” I tell them. “It’s whole wheat.” That gets Barnes’s attention.

“You do?” he says, pulling out his phone. “Can you send it to—hmm.” He frowns. “Sam, it’s not showing the thing.”

“What thing?” Wilson asks, taking Barnes’s phone from his hand. “Oh, yeah, that’s cause it’s set to Contacts Only, Buck, you have to switch it to Allow Everyone.”

Wilson looks at me, smiling. “Bucky here hates technology—”

“—I don’t hate technology—”

“Oh yes you do, you won’t even let me get you an iPad—”

“Yeah, for what? What do I need it for? I wouldn’t even use—”

“You wouldn’t use one, huh? How about I stop letting you borrow mine for a couple of weeks, then we’ll see how you feel.” Wilson turns to me, passing Barnes’s phone back to him. “He should be showing up on your AirDrop now.”

Sure enough, I’m able to send the recipe link to Bucky’s iPhone. He thanks me and starts scrolling right through it, argument apparently totally forgotten.

As Barnes continues to read, periodically checking on the kettle; Wilson excuses himself to help put away the rest of the groceries, which are mostly produce.

“I hope you have like, immediate plans for these,” Wilson says, inspecting the avocados as he pulls them out of the paper bag. “They are ripe, man. Tomorrow’s gonna be too late for them.”

“Yeah I do, I was gonna make grilled chicken and avocado sandwiches for dinner,” Barnes replies. “I got tomatoes, swiss cheese—”

“What’s all this about pita then if we’re having sandwiches?” Wilson asks.

“No, the pita is the bread here,” Barnes explains. “You stuff everything in the pocket. I’m gonna have to get started pretty soon; probably gonna double the rising time since it’s cold out.” Wilson hums in apparent approval of this course of action.

I lose Wilson to the refrigerator for several minutes. He stands back up after arranging things in the crisper to his liking.

“Any chance I could get a peek at those wedding pictures?” I ask.

“Oh,” says Wilson. “That okay with you?” He turns to Barnes, who nods, carefully steeping bags of tea in three steaming mugs, and then leads me back to the living room.

Wilson has stashed two silver-framed pictures in a drawer of the coffee table, apparently in anticipation of my visit, and he pulls them out to show to me. Both are taken in front of a familiar-looking farmhouse, which I struggle with for a moment before placing it as the exact one in Captain Rogers’s watercolor painting that’s hanging to my left. Wilson’s suit in the photo is a matte but brilliant shade of cobalt; Barnes wears black.

One is of just the two of them, arms around one another and foreheads together. It’s almost too intimate to look at; I feel as though I’m intruding on something intensely private, even though Wilson is standing right here offering me a glimpse of it.

He puts that one back up onto the mantle.

The next is them in the center of a large group that consists of some people I recognize and others I don’t. Familiar faces include Dr. Bruce Banner [The Hulk], Clint Barton [Hawkeye], and Maria Hill [Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.]. Also present: King T’Challa of Wakanda and his sister, Princess Shuri. There’s a young girl in a white dress, carrying a flower basket and missing a front tooth, standing in front of [C.E.O. of Stark Industries] Pepper Potts. Next to them is a teenager with floppy brown hair doing an indescribably awkward double thumbs up.

“Who’s that?” I ask, pointing at him.

Wilson snorts. “Some punk. Family friend.”

That picture gets hung on the empty nail next to Captain Rogers’s painting.

Barnes knocks quietly on the doorway behind us. “Tea’s ready.”

An awkward silence settles in with us once we sit back down in the kitchen, Wilson and Barnes next to one another, and me across from them. I flip through my notes, taking a sip from my mug.. My drink is sweeter than I was expecting, because apparently the Winter Soldier has added agave to the hibiscus tea he made me. It’s delicious.

Barnes eventually breaks. “So whatcha go over so far?”

“How we got together, how we got engaged,” Wilson answers him. “In detail too, so if you don’t want that published, you’re gonna have to grovel at the journalist yourself, because you said—”

“Oh my god,” says Barnes, old-school New York sarcasm dripping from every word. “How dare you tell people about the best thing I ever did, huh? Now they’re gonna think I’m like, a sensitive, good guy, and here I’ve been coasting along on this murder cyborg image. What have you done, you dick?”

Wilson rolls his eyes.

“So...you’re okay with it?” I ask them, absolutely ready to scrub the record if he hesitates.

“You kidding me?” says Barnes. “Every other week comes up some new atrocity I committed against my will in like...the 70s, and you think I’m gonna be upset with people knowing that once in a while I say nice shit to someone I love? Write it. Please. Knock yourself out.”

Okay then. Since Barnes seems willing to talk, I ask them if I can throw them a few questions I have for them as a couple. Barnes looks as though he wasn’t anticipating this.

Wilson turns to him. “You wanna be here for this?”

Barnes nods slowly, hesitantly, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“You’re okay?” Wilson asks. “You decide you’re done at any point and I’ll end it. Or you can go hang out in the other room, your call.”

“I’m good for now,” Barnes decides. “I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“You can ask whatever you want,” Wilson says to me. “I can’t promise we’ll answer everything, but go ahead and shoot.”

“I guess the first question I have is: what’s the hardest thing about navigating your jobs as a couple? What bothers you the most about that?”

Wilson exhales loudly. “I mean, the obvious answer is the danger,” he says. “The nature of what we do is fundamentally unsafe. I think it goes without saying—I’ll still say it—that we’re always aware that one of us might not make it back from a mission, which is...” Wilson trails off for a moment, shaking his head. “You don’t get used to that feeling. The fear.”

“Mm hmm,” Barnes agrees, from behind his mug.

“And,” continues Wilson, “I’m also aware that by doing this interview, I’m putting Bucky in additional danger. I’m not naive enough to think that the people working against us won’t try to use my relationship with him as leverage against me.”

“That makes sense,” I say, because he’s absolutely right, and pretending that public knowledge of his marriage doesn’t put them both in a new kind of danger seems disingenuous. I face Barnes. “Your turn.”

“Racist assholes,” says Barnes immediately.

Wilson smirks and cocks his head in agreement. “Sometimes I think I’ve talked that subject to death, other times it’s like I could never hope to address it enough. Today feels like the first one.”

A diplomatic, but clear answer. Time to move on.

I’m about to ask the next question when he adds: “Another thing that gets under my skin is how it’s like Bucky’s image in the eyes of the general public is totally dependent on me hyping him up all the time. As far as I’m concerned, he’s proven himself a hundred times over, and yet if I’m not on T.V. reminding people of that every day, it’s suddenly like ‘oh, the Winter Soldier, can we ever really trust him?’

“I just… It bothers me. I want us to come to a collective understanding that everything that happened happened to Bucky, not because of him. It kinda circles back into another of the things I’m passionate about, which is mental health care and awareness. I think if we as a society were better about recognizing and addressing mental illness, and particularly Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, I wouldn’t have to keep having this conversation about my husband.”

Barnes’s face is getting pinker and he says nothing, but he’s smiling a little at Wilson, who puts an arm around his shoulders.

“Anyway, we can move on,” says Wilson, his expression going easy again. “Just had to get that out there one more time.”

“Hopefully this one’s a little more pleasant,” I say. “What inspired you to come forward about your relationship? I know you guys—” I gesture between them, ”—have been together for a couple years, so why now?”

“I want to go on a date in public,” says Bucky. “I haven’t been on a date since the 40s.”

“That’s right,” says Wilson. “We’re doing all this so I can take him Denny’s and hold his hand over a $6.99 Super Slam.”

When I finish laughing, Wilson continues. “Part of it’s because we realized it’s gonna get out there whether we like it or not. You already knew when you got here that we lived together, and that’s because that information got leaked to the public last week, so it was always just a matter of time before people found out anyway. I’d rather have some control over that narrative; better you hear it from me and Bucky, how we want to tell it, than in some tabloid.”

He’s right about that: they would undoubtedly have been outed one way or another. Their status as “roommates” was reported by TMZ a week and a half ago, and there was a Buzzfeed piece only yesterday, rife with gifs, entitled 15 Times Captain America and The Winter Soldier Made Us Wish We Were Their Third Roommate, that ended on the note of how Wilson and Barnes are “absolute BFF GOALS.” Wilson continues:

“But I think the biggest reason is that we decided, together, that we actually think it’s good for people to know. I’ve seen firsthand the impact that having a Black Captain America has had on the Black community and on the national topic of race, and we think—we hope—that a Captain America who is a member of the LGBT community will have a similar effect.

“The people who already hate me aren’t going to like me any better or worse for being bisexual, but some bisexual teenager out there is hopefully gonna read this article and feel a little bit better about themselves than they did before. That’s really the impact I want to have here. Got anything to add, Buck?”

“Actually, yeah,” says Barnes, staring at the counter in front of him and fiddling with his wedding ring. “I grew up gay in thirties. The idea of being able to just...tell people, that’s still amazing to me. The fact that I’m sitting here talking about it with a stranger and you’re not screamin’ in my face right now…”

“You do know I’m not straight either, right?” I ask him. I’m not exactly shy about that, it’s the kind of thing most people can tell just by looking at me.

“Even so,” says Barnes, finally looking me in the eye. “You fool around with a fella back in the day—or worse, you make a pass and he turns you down—then he knows about you, and then it’s like, what if he tells someone? Some of the worst shit I ever saw came from people who found out that way. So, other gay guys. Basically you never felt safe.”

“What about Captain Rogers?” I ask. “Did he know?”

“Oh yeah, Steve knew,” says Barnes with a dismissive wave of his hand, like that ought to be obvious. “He wasn’t gonna tell anyone; I got too much dirt on him.“

“Pfft. He’s messing with you,” Wilson interjects, directed at me. “There’s no dirt on Steve anywhere; believe me, I’d know by now if there was.”

“I want you to guess how many times I’ve had to clean up Steve’s puke,” says Barnes in a total deadpan, leaning forward. “Whatever number you think it is, the real answer is higher.

“This again,” says Wilson. “I keep telling you Buck, Steve throwing up on you at Coney Island isn’t the big scandalous story you seem to want it to be.”

“Sam wasn’t there, he didn’t see it,” Barnes insists. “We were with these girls and they just left us standing there by the Cyclone, covered in hot dog chunks. Actually, that part was kind of a relief ‘cause one of ‘em was definitely jonesing for me to kiss her before that, and I really didn’t want to.

“But seriously, after everything we went through together, I knew I could trust Steve with anything. And that made me luckier than most—at least I had one person. Lots of guys had no one.

“Anyway, my reasons for coming out with all this are probably more selfish than Sam’s. You know some of those Nazis—we’re callin’ ‘em something else these days, like ‘alt-right’ or whatever, but I know a Nazi when I see one—they have this crazy idea of what I was like back in the day. They’ve got this fantasy, like a golem of toxic masculinity with my face on it, and I just want to publicly shit on their dreams. Every date I ever went on with a girl was a total sham, and I was scared down to my bones that someone would figure that out. I fight because someone needs to and I’m good at it, but I hate hurting people and I’d much rather be sitting here cuddling on the couch with a man. This man.”

Barnes is grinning big and wide by the time he finishes—a real, genuine smile that brings out the sparkle in his eyes—and suddenly I feel like I’m catching a glimpse of what Wilson must be seeing in him. Wilson himself is laughing.

“I like how you snuck your little buzzword in there, baby,” he says. “Toxic masculinity. That’s one of Bucky’s things he learned about from his Wakandan therapist.

“Obviously super important,” Wilson adds, lest I think he’s making light of something serious.

“I think it’s great that we’re talking about it so openly now, especially with respect to the military.”

Barnes tilts his head in agreement, checking the time on his phone. We’re probably approaching the point at which he wants to get started on that pita bread, and I’m definitely in his way.

“So what’s next for you guys?” I ask.

“Isn’t that always the question?” Wilson asks, taking Barnes’s right hand in his left and resting them, intertwined, on the countertop. “Sometimes it’s aliens. Sometimes not. Who even knows anymore?”

“Hopefully, a whole lot more of this,” says Barnes, looking down at their hands.

Wilson smiles. “Well, that’s a given. That’s always.”

This is when Barnes gets up to pull a stand mixer out of one of the cupboards, and I read that as my cue to take my leave. I end my recording, Wilson thanks me for stopping by, I promise to give him an advance copy of my writing to make sure he’s comfortable with what I said, and I find myself standing back on the sidewalk of [REDACTED] moments later.

I’m not typically in the habit of including as many details about the dinner plans of my article subjects as I have here—and I’m certainly testing the limits of my editor’s patience with the word count—but in the spirit of Wilson’s wishes for what his coming out story will mean to the people of America, I wanted to emphasize how human his marriage is.

Barnes and Wilson have extraordinary jobs that they are undoubtedly uniquely suited for and that most of us will never fully understand, but they are also two people who have been through a lot of hardship and found happiness and peace in one another. And that’s something that most of us do understand: love, the human experience that transcends the divisions we give ourselves.

*From a press conference Wilson gave on May 7, 2025.

**From a statement written by Barnes and issued through a S.H.I.E.L.D. representative on November 1, 2023.

For further reading on Barnes, the author recommends:

1. Greatest Generation X: The Impossible Life of James Buchanan Barnes, by Ariel Guzman, published in 2025.

2. R.Y. Uhlencott’s column “The Wolf of Brooklyn” in the October 2024 issue of Time covers the basic timeline and trajectory of Barnes’s life.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #winterfalcon #mcu #marvel #tfatws #sam(antha) tag #my fanfic tag #fanfic

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casuallyimagining · 3 years

Text

Merry Little Christmas

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Summary: You and Jungkook celebrate your second Christmas together. Genre: fluff Notes: Part of the Long Term Couples series. Read more here

There was something about Christmas day. You felt lighter, and you couldn’t help the childlike happiness that filled your heart, despite the fact that you were in your mid-20s and had somehow gotten suckered into cooking Christmas dinner for yourself and your boyfriend.

You stood in your kitchen, waiting for the chicken to finish cooking. Jungkook had insisted he wanted a traditional American Christmas meal, which would have been fine, except for the fact that everything was a pain in the ass to make and was even more so in the small portions you were making. It was only going to be you and Jungkook for dinner, the other members were spread out around the peninsula, spending the holidays with their own families.

So you were cooking Christmas dinner. For two people.

It didn’t help that Jungkook was a little drunk on the wassail you had made the night before. He had never tried the hot mulled cider before, and he went a little overboard sampling it. He was bouncing around your apartment gleefully, alternating between playing with Kimchi and attempting to help you cook.

You’d been blasting Christmas music for the past week and a half, and surprisingly, Jungkook hadn’t gotten annoyed by it. In fact, it seemed like all the jingle bells and festive music only fueled his joy. Frank Sinatra’s Ultimate Christmas album served as the soundtrack to your cooking endeavors. You had started the morning with some Bing Crosby and Ella Fitzgerald and had made the switch to Sinatra only a short while ago.

Jungkook popped his head into the kitchen just as the muted brass began “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town.” He smiled softly as you started to hum along. “I’m not trying to rush you-”

“You can’t rush a cooking chicken, Kookie. That’s how you get food poisoning.”

He laughed, coming over to wrap his arms around your waist. “I was just wondering how much longer it was going to be.”

“Maybe like 10 minutes? If that?” You leaned around him to glance at the time on the oven before running your hand up his bicep and across his shoulder to his hair. It had grown so long, and you loved to play with the soft strands at the base of his neck. “You getting hungry?”

He nodded, capturing your free hand in his own and holding it to his chest. “It smells so good.” You weren’t sure when he started, but he was gently swaying you back and forth in time with the music.

The song changed and he pulled you closer, his head falling slightly to the side to rest against yours. He slowed the speed of his swaying to match the song and began to hum along. You let him lead you slowly around the kitchen to the tune of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” allowing yourself to get lost in the moment a little. You sighed, relaxing into his hold.

Jungkook had been so busy lately, you had hardly had time for it to sink in that it was Christmas. You were used to being busy at the holidays--normally the group was off in some foreign country performing to sold out crowds in some of the biggest arenas. And you were there through all of it, ready to help them however you could. But this year had been so stop-and-start that when the holidays rolled around and things started to ramp up, you had almost forgotten about them.

So you had honestly been glad when Jungkook suggested that you have a more traditional Christmas this year. Your first Christmas together, your relationship had been so new, it was hard to enjoy the holidays for what they were. It was nice to relax a little this year and just enjoy each other’s company.

He sighed, his hot breath fanning against your neck. You could feel him smile as he kissed your temple before nuzzling into your hair. He hummed along softly to the music, his thumb rubbing circles into your hand.

“Merry Christmas, jagi.” His voice was so soft, had he not said it so close to your ear, you would have never heard him.

“Merry Christmas, Koo.” You inhaled deeply. He was right. Everything did smell good, even if it was your first time cooking a Christmas meal alone. Except...

Suddenly, you pulled away, your eyes wide. Jungkook looked at you, his head tilting quickly to the side before righting itself. He sniffed, and then he giggled.

“Oh no-”

“The chicken.” You sighed, opening the oven and pulling out the roaster. Thankfully, the chicken wasn’t burned, but you could tell just by looking at it that it was dry.

“It still smells good,” Jungkook offered hopefully, his hand resting on your lower back.

“Help me get the rest of the stuff on the table,” you groaned, grabbing a plate to put the chicken on.

He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head before grabbing the bowl of mashed potatoes and twirling out of the room. You could hear him hyping up Kimchi in the dining room, the little dog’s nails clicking excitedly against the wood flooring as he pranced around.

You smiled in spite of yourself. It didn’t matter that the chicken didn’t turn out right, not really. What mattered was that you were spending your favorite time of year with your favorite person in the world.

You laid on the floor playing with Kimchi. He barked sharply at the stuffed snowman in your hand before pouncing and snatching the toy with his teeth. He growled as you tugged gently on the snowman’s hat, and you laughed when he shook his head violently to pull the toy out of your gasp.

You could hear Jungkook clattering around in the kitchen as he loaded the dishwasher with your dinner dishes. He was talking on the phone with one of the other members--Jin, perhaps, based on his manner of speaking and how much he was laughing--asking them about their holiday and telling them about the meal you cooked.

Eventually, you heard the dishwasher begin its cycle and Jungkook padded into the living room, his phone to his ear. He smiled gently as he joined you on the floor and rested his head on your stomach. Your hand found his hair immediately, and you played with it as he finished up his phone call.

“Okay, hyung. I’ll talk to you later,” he said finally. “Merry Christmas!”

He hung up and rolled over onto his side so that he was looking at you. You crossed your eyes and stuck out your tongue, and he giggled, burying his face in the fabric of your shirt. When he calmed down, he looked at you again, his eyes reflecting the multicolored lights of your Christmas tree, and you smiled fondly at him.

“Hi baby,” you said softly, brushing his hair off his forehead and tucking it behind his ear.

Jungkook smiled and lifted himself up on his forearms so he was hovering over you. “Hi jagi.” He kissed you quickly before pulling away again. “Time for presents?”

Honestly, you were surprised he had made it as long as he did before bringing up the topic of presents.

“You’re such a child,” you joked, pushing him off you so you could sit up.

Jungkook laughed and stood to grab his present for you. He hadn’t hidden it very well--you had found it when Kimchi had bumped into the tree a week ago and it fell out of the branches. You hadn’t said anything to Jungkook, though, and simply tucked it back into where you thought he had stuffed it in the tree.

You had hidden your present for him among the books and junk in the side table beside your sofa. When you pulled it out, Jungkook eyed it greedily, but you could see the confusion in his eyes. He wasn’t one for books, and it certainly looked like a book wrapped in red and green plaid.

He grinned at you, pushing his present into your hands before you could even hand his to him. It was delicately wrapped in gold, a wide blue ribbon wrapped around it, ending in a comically large bow. You raised an eyebrow as you ran your finger along the ribbon. He laughed.

“I wrapped it,” he explained sheepishly. “Taehyung did the ribbon.”

You hummed in amusement, carefully inspecting the bow to see if it was attached. Thankfully, it was separate from the ribbon, and you were able to peel it off without ruining it. Smirking, you stuck the bow to Jungkook’s sweater, just to the left of his heart. He laughed and pressed on it so that the tape would stick.

You studied the box in your hand as you carefully unwrapped it. It was rectangular, about the length of your hand, and not very thick, maybe four or five centimeters wide. Whatever it was, it was light, and though you could feel something rattling around when you turned the box over to remove more paper, it didn’t make a sound. Jungkook stared at your hands the whole time you were opening it.

“Jagi, the paper doesn’t matter,” he said impatiently. “Just open it.”

You chuckled, but obliged, ripping the gold paper off the box. You tossed the rest of the ribbon to him as you finished unwrapping the gift. It was a plain black box with a logo you didn’t recognize imprinted on the front. Carefully, you took the lid off, revealing a piece of folded silk. Confused, you pulled away the two wings of silk to reveal what was underneath.

“Kook…” You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes.

Nestled on a piece of silk-covered foam was a pillar attached to a silver chain, solid obsidian except for the delicate silver engraving on the front. It was your name, in Hangul, followed by a plus sign and then his name.

“It’s only on the one side,” Jungkook explained, watching you run your finger along the black stone. “So if you want to wear it out, you can turn it around and no one’ll see.” You smiled silently. The necklace was simple, but it was pretty and exactly your taste and so incredibly thoughtful that you couldn’t stop staring at it. “Do you like it?” he ventured nervously.

“I love it,” you whispered, meeting his eyes. His worry melted to fondness as soon as he saw how misty-eyed you were, and he pulled you into a tight hug. You were the one to pull away, knowing full well that he’d sit there all night holding you if you let him. Sighing, you wiped at your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt before handing him his own present. “I want to preface this by saying that your spending habits make you ridiculously difficult to shop for.”

He laughed, loud and sharp, and threw his head back in joy. “I’ll try to remember that for next year.” He flashed you a toothy grin before tearing into the paper. He had it open before you could blink.

Confused, Jungkook turned the book in his hands, reading the front cover before flipping it over. In colorful letters, the cover said ‘Our Adventure Book.’ The front and back covers were leather, and it was bound with a piece of leather cord tied in a bow--Taehyung had helped you, too, but you would never tell Jungkook that. He looked at you, a soft smile on his lips, but you could see that he didn’t understand.

“It’s a book, Kookie. Open it,” you prompted, chuckling.

He flipped it so that it was facing forward. “Is this the book from Up?” he asked quietly, opening the cover to the first page and coming face to face with a picture of the two of you at a restaurant in Seoul in 2015. It was the one of the earliest photos from your friendship--from before you were even close, really--and it had been taken at the celebration after their first performance of the HYYH tour. He groaned at how young and awkward he looked in the photo, but you motioned for him to keep flipping.

The next few pages were random snapshots of your adventures, taken at various points around your many travels. The aquarium in Anaheim. Outside of Sydney Opera House. Niagara Falls. New York City. Various places around Tokyo. Plenty in and around Seoul.

And then he got to the first of the blank pages.

The page wasn’t exactly blank, though. It had a few sticky notes on it, and he leaned in to read them. You watched him, his lips forming the words silently as he scanned the list you had written there. His brows were knit in concentration, but his expression quickly softened into a pout the more he read. His hands had come up to cover his ears, and he ducked his head slightly before shutting the book carefully.

He was quiet for a few moments, tracing the letters on the front of the book with his index finger. When he finally looked up at you, a tear was already rolling down his cheek. Chuckling softly, you hugged him tightly. He held onto you, one hand clutching the back of your sweater while the other held the book tightly against his chest.

“You like it?” you asked, rubbing his back gently.

He nodded against you and sniffled. “Do you really want to go to all those places with me?”

You smiled and pulled away, cupping his face in your hands. You wiped the couple tears that had fallen away with your thumbs. “Of course I do. Half of them were your idea.” He laughed at that, his hands coming up to hold yours. “I can’t think of anything more fun than seeing the world with you, Jeon Jungkook.”

He giggled shyly and brought both of your hands together to place a quick kiss to your fingers before tugging you closer and kissing you in full. His lips, soft and plump, still tasted of mulled cider and brandy from his wassail sampling before dinner. He pulled back ever so slightly. “Merry Christmas,” he mumbled softly before kissing you again quickly.

Your thumb stroked his cheek gently when he pulled away to rest his forehead against yours. “Merry Christmas, Jungkook.”

Read more of the series here

#jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungguk x reader #jungguk #bts jungkook #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungguk #bts jungguk x reader #jeon jungkook #bts #bts x reader

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kiras-sunshine · 3 years

Text

Oh, you are the one I want

Written for Carlos Reyes Week day 2: “I’ll always be here for you” + romance

Summary: “but did you really think that if you call me in the middle of the shift sounding all miserable that I’m not going to come and check up on you?”

Read on ao3

Carlos leans against the wall of the police station. It’s a sunny day and the sunlight is bright. The wall feels warm against his palm. He squints a little as he looks at his phone and selects TK’s phone number from his contacts list.

The line rings a couple of times before he picks up.

“Hey,” he says as soon as the line connects, and his voice sounds happy.

Carlos closes his eyes. It is ridiculous how much he misses him, even though he saw him yesterday. Still, just hearing his voice makes his heart flutter.

“Hey,” he eventually whispers.

He hears some rustling on the other end of the phone. He knows he is on a shift too, but he hoped it would be a quiet moment and that he would be able to pick up the phone.

“What’s up?”

He lets out a deep sigh. “I think--,” he starts but he lets his voice trail off. “I cannot make it today,” he eventually says, and a knot forms in his stomach immediately as he says it.

They had made actual plans because both of them had the evening off. A proper date night with a dinner in a restaurant and he had planned to take TK back to the field where they had watched the aurora borealis to star gaze this time because the forecast promised a clear and bright night sky.

He had been looking forward to it all. An actual date is a bit of rarity for them, not that he wouldn’t cherish any moment he gets to spend with him, but it is still a nice change to their hectic lives.

He wants to see him more than anything, but he is ridiculously tired, and nothing has gone as he hoped during his shift. They have been understaffed during his whole shift, and he has been rushing from call to call, and his stressed co-workers keep snapping at him. Every call he gets send on seems to bring the worst out of people, he has already dealt with drunken people, domestic violence case and an attempted robbery.

On top of that, he had been the first one arriving to the scene of a car crash that was the result of reckless driving and speeding, and the woman driving the car had serious injuries, and she had been taken to the hospital immediately, but he isn’t sure if he believes that she can make it out alive. It has been a while since he has seen that much blood.

He feels hopeless and defeated. He wants to see TK and forget everything about his shift, but he knows he cannot magically turn off his thoughts from work when he gets off shift and it will take even longer to shake off the events of the day, especially the car crash, from his mind and TK deserves better than rushed-down dinner with him shutting down and sulking.

“Okay,” TK says. His voice is quiet, but there are no traces of annoyance in his voice. He hears footsteps from the other end of the call, and he is quite sure he is walking to somewhere more quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he says, closing his eyes again.

He feels terrible for cancelling, but he knows, deep down, he cannot just put a brave face on and pretend to him that everything is fine. He would see right through him. It is almost uncanny how well he manages to read him, almost like an open book, and how thoroughly he has managed to learn to know him.

It is a great feeling, being known and seen by someone he loves, and he cherishes the feeling of it, but it also means TK won’t fall for any facades of being alright. He loves him, maybe more than he can ever say, but he knows that his mind would circle just back to the events of the shift. Nothing kills romance faster than talking about gruesome accident scenes, and he knows he cannot avoid talking about it if they have the date as they planned.

A couple of his previous boyfriends always complained that he brings too much work to home and that he keeps constantly talking about his job. He sort of gets how that can be annoying and too much for people but talking it out is his way of dealing with his emotions.

He knows TK would listen to him, without any complaints, if he talked to him, but there is always a certain threshold of sharing the worst parts of his job with him because he understands it too well. He has seen his fair share of horribleness of life in his own job, and it feels almost unfair to dump the ugliest parts of his job on him, too.

“Don’t be,” he says, softly and reassuringly. “Are you okay?”

His voice is coloured by genuine concern and he knows that he is already caught on that something is bothering him.

“Yeah,” he replies, dragging his hand along his face, “just a rough shift and I need to do overtime.”

It’s not a lie, he convinces himself. It’s a simplified, cut-down version of the reality and thanks to the busy shift, the paperwork pile is a lot longer than he would like.

“You can tell me if you aren’t,” he says, simply.

It still makes his heart feel a thousand times heavier in his chest. He wants to see him, he wants to hug him, and he wants to pour all of the messy and unattractive feelings out of him, but he cannot do that in the middle of his own, or his, shift.

“I’m fine. Just—exhausted and people are being idiotic,” he tells him with an attempted laughter, but it ends up sounding hollow and joyless.

He is tempted to ask him to come over once his shift is over, but it feels a just a bit selfish to cancel all of their plans and still ask him to come over just because he needs him.

“Isn’t that how it usually is?”

His voice is lighter and even though he cannot see him, video chat would have given all of his secrets away immediately, he still knows he is probably sporting a tiny half-smile that tugs in the right corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “and I will make this up to you.”

TK deserves the world, and he wants to make him happy, but as he leans against the wall, he knows that not burdening him with his issues in the middle of the workday or immediately afterwards, might be the best way to do it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies, without missing a beat.

He exhales audibly as he watches people walking in and out of the main doors. He knows he should get back to work.

“I should go,” he says, reluctantly. Merely hearing his voice helps a bit, but he knows he cannot dwell on his thoughts too long if he wants to make through rest of his shift.

“Okay,” he whispers and pauses for a moment. “Carlos?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His voice is still quiet and gentle, but there is such certainty in it that it almost makes it sound powerful and it still sends the same thrill of happiness and warmth through his heart as it did the first time he heard he say it.

He squeezes his phone a little tighter. “I love you, too,” he says, unwilling to let the moment pass, but he still disconnects the call after a couple of seconds.

*****

Coming back to the dark and empty apartment hasn’t felt this much of a sucker punch into the gut for ages, but he knows it’s his own fault.

He throws the keys to the bowl he keeps on the table next to the door and crashes on the couch. He realises there is something underneath his back and he wiggles to pull it away from there. It feels like fabric and he realises that he holds one of TK’s black and plain AFD t-shirts in his hand, and he contemplates calling him, but he doesn’t know what he would say.

Instead, he keeps staring at the ceiling. He definitely loses track of time and he groans when he hears a knock on his door. He is almost tempted not to open the door because the only person he currently wants to see has a key and almost all of his neighbours know he is a cop and they always come to his door if they spot any sort of unrest anywhere near their building.

Still, he gets up and opens to door, and to his surprise, it’s not any of his neighbours, but his boyfriend.

TK is smiling, affectionately, and he is holding two pizza boxes on his left hand. His hair is sticking up a bit, and it looks like he has showered and dried his hair in a rush and instead of his normal short-sleeved button up and jeans, he is wearing a dark blue hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey, I thought we cancelled,” he replies, not very eloquently, but his mind refuses to cooperate because he wanted to see him, but he also didn’t expect to see him, and it feels slightly unreal to see him standing there.

“We did,” he says, and points him with his index finger, “but did you really think that if you call me in the middle of the shift sounding all miserable that I’m not going to come and check up on you?”

Carlos opens his mouth but closes it again, because he is not sure of the answer. He should have known. TK has a big heart, and he is one of the most caring people he has met, and he knows that he loves him, so he should have been able to count one plus one together.

Maybe he had subconsciously been aware of the possibility of this when he called him. Wanting to let him know that he isn’t alright without outright saying it aloud.

“I should have guessed,” he admits, biting down a smile.

“Damn right you should have,” he agrees, and his smile is warm and reassuring, and it reaches his eyes, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

He hands the pizza boxes to him. The boxes still feel warm and the smell is amazing. He still lets out a surprised laugh when he sees the logo on the top of the box.

“You hate that place,” he points out.

He has never met anyone who would have more opinions about what proper pizza is than TK, and he has listened to his rants about superiority of New York’s pizza and the awfulness of the small place he prefers countless times. He would have thought that TK refuses to go anywhere near that place because had been so appalled by the pizza they once ordered.

He rolls his eyes, but he seems amused. “Yeah, but you love it. There’s enough for two, but if you want to be alone, I will go.”

He just stares at him for a moment. It means a lot to him that he tries to give him space and respect his boundaries by not storming into the apartment with his key, but right now, he feels like space is the absolute last thing he needs.

He reaches to place the pizza boxes on the living room coffee table. He returns to the door and curls his fingers around his wrist and pulls him into a tight hug and closes the door behind him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

TK chuckles a little, but he wraps his arms around him too and keeps stroking the space between his shoulder blades with his hand. He just hugs him a little tighter and burrows his face into his neck and the fabric of his hoodie.

He breathes in his scent, and he smells faintly of fruity soap and his hair smells a bit like coconuts. It’s such a familiar scent that he almost feels like he has just arrived at home.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, still against his hoodie, “I might not be the best company right now, though.”

“Hey, none of that,” he insists, determinedly. He holds him a little tighter. “I already know something is bothering you, and that’s why I’m here. I’m all in. I want to be around it all, the bad days and everything. I want you.”

He is half-convinced his stomach somersaults at his words and his eyes are stinging. He is almost speechless, and he just presses a kiss against his neck.

“I want to share it all with you,” he eventually whispers and reluctantly pulls away from their hug. “I just thought it would be easier for you if I didn’t burden you with it.”

He holds his gaze, and his eyes are gleaming. “Yeah, because I always like to take the easy way out,” he deadpans.

A short laughter escapes his throat, despite everything. It’s public knowledge that TK is a walking trouble magnet, no matter what he does. He attracts trouble and he is stubborn and determined. He loves a challenge and when he decides to do something, there is no stopping him. Opting to take the easy choice doesn’t really suit him.

“You don’t have to compartmentalize your feelings,” he points out, matter-of-factly, but there is still kindness in his voice as he picks up the pizza boxes and carries them to the kitchen.

“I never not wanted to see you,” he says, leaning against the kitchen island as TK takes out plates and cuts pizzas into slices.

It feels important that he knows he didn’t try to push him away, he wanted to protect him, shield him. “I had a crappy day, and I didn’t feel like I was up for any of our plans and pretend that nothing had happened,” he adds, staring at the plates, “and I felt guilty for cancelling, but I would have absolutely ruined the date.”

TK places the pizza cutter down. He gestures between them. “If the roles were reversed, would you have understood?”

“Of course,” he says, without hesitation, and the ridiculousness of his own thoughts is starting to dawn on him.

“Yeah, so I get it. We are first responders, there is no way of predicting what we will see and experience on calls. There is no guarantees that we even make home after a shift is done. It’s no wonder if we don’t always feel like following our plans and pretend to be a couple who don’t have to face death and destruction every day.”

He lets out a deep breath. He walks up to him and loosely wraps his arms around him and rests his head on his shoulder. “You’re right,” he says with a huff, “I knew you’d understand, it’s just—I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You could never be,” he says, in a tone that is the softest he has ever hear him use, “for someone who reads people as their job, you’re really atrocious at predicting how will I react,” he jokes, but leans into the touch.

“Seems so,” he hums.

It has nothing to do with lack of faith in him, and everything to do with how he has been treated in the past and what he has deemed himself to be worth of.

“It’s a small wonder this doesn’t happen more often,” he muses, as Carlos lets his hand fall away and he sits near him on the kitchen chair. “We should come up with a codeword,” he declares, with a beaming grin, as he sits down, too.

“For cancelling plans?” He asks, as he takes a bite out of his slice of pizza.

“Yes. Just one word that would mean that either one of us has had a horrible day at work, automatically cancelling all potential plans and letting the other know that we might feel less than okay,” he explains, giving him a pointed look, “and no question asked.”

He knows that they can communicate, and that they have gotten better at talking to each other lately, and somehow more often than not they are on the same wavelength and just understand where the other is coming from, but his idea makes sense.

“That’s actually pretty good idea.”

He loves his job and TK loves his, and he knows neither one of them wouldn’t change them for the world, but their jobs can be exhausting, they drain every last drop of energy and it takes a lot to do it everyday basis.

“What should be the word?” He asks, his mouth half-full of pizza.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, looking around himself, “it could be anything. It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else,” he continues, and his gaze lands on the notepad that lies on the kitchen island next to the pizza boxes.

It has his, or more accurately, their grocery shopping list. He skims it through and looks up to him, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Broccoli?”

“Broccoli?” He echoes, but he ends up nodding. “Works for me.”

“Broccoli it is then,” he declares and picks up a slice of pizza. He glances at it suspiciously before taking a bite out of it. “If you ever need a proof how much I love you, this is it,” he grumbles, pointing at the pizza in his hand.

“Warms my heart, truly,” he says, with a thin smile, and strokes his calf with his foot.

They eat in silence for a moment until TK speaks again. His whole expression softens as he looks at him, but his eyes are grave. “Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you do.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out and examines his own hand. He runs his thumb over his right palm. “We were understaffed, everyone was grumpy, and it was a busy day. A call after a call, and majority of them were the sort of scenes that could have been avoided if everyone just stopped and considered how their actions affect other people.”

TK keeps his eyes on him, and he keeps nodding as he listens to his rambling. “The worst part was this car accident. Another patrol car had been chasing them ‘cause they were endangering the traffic with reckless driving. She ended up crashing her car against bridge railing.”

He sighs, half out of frustration and half because he can still see the scene in his mind in such a vivid detail. “I was the first one to arrive and it was—bad. The ambulance was a couple minutes out and there wasn’t much I could do, but I tried to help and talk to her.”

TK slides his hand along the kitchen island and takes his hand into his own. He holds it gently, just letting Carlos’ hand rest on his palm and he has his fingers loosely wrapped around it. It’s a small gesture, but it feels significant and compassionate.

“The ambulance arrived pretty fast, but I felt so helpless and there was so much blood,” he lets his voice trail off as he swallows. “They took her to hospital, and I hope she makes it, but I don’t know. It had been a bad day, but that was the last straw.”

He looks at their joined hands. “I’ve washed my hands so many times, but I feel like I still have her blood on my hands,” he admits in a brittle voice, even though it feels a bit ridiculous as he says it aloud.

TK says nothing of the sort, instead he reaches to kiss his forehead. “I’m sorry, that sounds awful.”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods. Sometimes there are cases that are difficult to leave at work, he knows this, but it never gets easier. It is still feels difficult to shake them off.

“For me, it sounds like you did your best,” TK adds, softly. “And I know you know it, but it’s not your fault. Any of it.”

“Yeah.”

Deep down, he knows it. It’s only logical that he cannot have control over other people’s actions, but it still feels different to hear it from someone else.

“And it’s okay not to feel okay immediately afterwards. It would be a lot more worrisome if you were not affected by your job,” he adds, just as gently as before.

He supposes he has a point. He smiles at him, hoping that even a fraction of the gratefulness and affection he is feeling gets across. “Thank you for being here.”

He reaches to kiss his cheek. He can feel his slight stubble against his cheek as he does so. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Always is an awfully long time, but it fills his heart with happiness to know that they are casually throwing words like that around, that they truly are in it for the long haul.

“Me too, for you.”

TK laughs. “I know, babe. You’ve proved that so many times already,” he strokes the back of his hand. They both glance the slices of uneaten pizza, but he at least has lost any appetite he previously had. “What do you want to do?”

“Sleep,” he replies without any hesitation. His exhaustion is still there, and he feels calmer now, more grounded and that is only intensifying his fatigue. “Or attempt at least.”

It might be that the memories of the crash scene might haunt him or that he feels eventually too restless to lay in bed, but he wants to try at least. And he always sleeps better when TK is there with him.

His smile is warm and bright, like the first beams of a rising sun. “We can do that.”

#carlosreyesweek2021 #tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star fic #911 lone star #look i managed to write another one #this was actually pretty fun to write and I hope you like it too

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operafantomet · 4 years

Note

Weird question but do you have favourite pieces of merch you've gotten at Phantom (or any other shows!!)? Nowadays it seems like most (except some countries in the world tour, and the Shiki Japanese productions) have barely anything, especially anything unique (I missed out on that golden angel umbrella by like a week :(.) sorry for the random ask

Lemme start by saying that the Golden Angel umbrella broke after a month, having only used it three or four times - an internal string snapped, so it’s pretty much impossible to repair, and I can’t unfold it as it is now. I suspect many reported problems with it, as it disappeared from the souvenir selection after a very short period. I got a refund, but first and foremost I’m sad I can’t wear it anymore. It was pretty and I loved it dearly

It seems really random what productions feature a cool selection of souvenirs. A bit based on how long they’re running, but also the initiative of the production, and their economy I guess.

Back in the days Hamburg had a wild and awesome selection. Tie clips, umbrellas, bags, mugs, hoodies, watches, pins, belts, earrings, puzzles, and of course CDs and brochures, you name it. The production had an almost 11 year long run, so I’m not surprised their selection was good. But it was such a contrast to visit the Essen production and see that they could offer… the souvenir brochure… and a CD. That was all. I asked why they hadn’t continued some of the stuff from Hamburg, and they said that the Essen production was initially meant to have a shorter run, so they didn’t bother. But for the Hamburg revival they were back to a rather cool collection, even if the run was around the same length as Essen. Soooo… Side note, I do have one of the original Hamburg umbrellas and unlike the Golden Angel one from West End, it’s still in function, some 20 years later… (and I love it)

(Metal brooch, button and tie clip from Hamburg)

Similar, the Oslo production had pretty much nothing to offer, souvenir brochure, CD. I think that was is. But once the production hit Greece they had made a lot of additional stuff. Mugs, buttons, t-shirts etc. with their own logo. They had different producers, so I assume they initiated it.

(Souvenir brochures and mugs from Greece)

It was also a huge contrast between the earlier Copenhagen runs VS the 2018-2019 run. Originally they had made their own umbrellas, hoodies, keychain, laptop bag and stuff, with the original logo but adding Det Ny Teater underneath. Those were really nice items. I used my laptop bag a LOT. For the recent run they only had a standard selection from London, and nothing with their own name on it. Nice enough, but I am a sucker for place-specific items…

(Umbrella and laptop bag from Copenhagen)

Of recent and current productions, I do agree that Japan always goes all the way. Their products are clever, cute and quite unique. I mean, the charms alone makes me wanna go to Japan!

(Charms from Japan)

But they also offer mini bears in costume, mugs, tote bags, wax seals (!), tees and hoodies, mousepads, speciall small boxes, keychains, pens, limited number music boxes, as well as DVDs, CDs and various souvenir brochures. They’re definitely all in.

Another recent(ish) production that impressed me greatly was the Buenos Aires one. They made so classy and functional merchandise! I remember wanting at least half of it. I contacted them to buy some, but the shipping price was double the price of the items, so I chickened out. But from what I remember they had steel water bottles, insulated coffee mugs, caps, laptop and iPad covers, fleece sweaters and the usual selection. Not just a wide range of products, but also stuff I would use and have a need for, and as mentioned a very classy design. I always hoped they would carry some of them into Broadway and West End, but apparently not.

Also a shout-out to the World Tour and to Stockholm, where the selection of items felt varied and cool. Similar to Japan, some of the Asian stops has featured a lot of enamelled and/or metal items like pins, as well as a wide selection of garments with logo. My favourite piece from Stockholm (but i’ve also seen it elsewhere) is this glittering mask pendant - a combo of fun, tacky and cool :D

As a side note, @rjdaae runs a cool POTO merch site. For the bare life of me I can’t remember the address - maybe someone else can chime in here? ETA: @phantomabilia !

(I also love my “Magic Mugs”, and that seems to be the one consistent item most or all productions sell)

#poto merchandise #phantom of the opera

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hellfirenacht · 5 years

Text

Can’t Be Unseen Chapter 2

Fandom: Sally Face

Ship: Sal Fisher x Reader

Chapter 2 Summary: Feed the boy, woo the boy, romance the boy. That’s only 3 things, how hard could it be?

First Chapter

Next Chapter

Ao3

It was warmer than it had been in the last few days as you stood outside the apartment building. Your jacket was wrapped around your waist instead of over your shoulders, which was fine with you. It'd give a better view of the outfit that you had picked out for the day. You hoped he liked it. You hoped he even noticed it. You weren't one for dressing up at school too much- it was too much work for too early in the morning.

You looked at your phone to check the time. It was 10 minutes 'til one. You still had a little bit of time before Sal showed up.

"Hey there."

Or not. Right, Sally was a good guy who actually showed up early to things like this. It was one of the things you really liked about him- he was never ever late. You smiled at him and looked him over. He was still wearing his usual outfit of a black long sleeved shirt and his ripped jeans but today he had let his hair down and was wearing a beanie today.

"Hey there." you replied. "No pigtails today?"

Sal shook his head. "Larry got me this hat, but it's a bit awkward to wear pigtails at the same time."

"That's ok, you look great." you winked at him. "I'm pretty lucky."

"Heh, thanks." his voice sounded a little flustered and you couldn't help but feel a little proud.

"Shall we?" you asked offering your hand, and to your surprise he took it.

"Let's go!"

...

The festival was just a few blocks from the apartment building, in the nearby park. It was bigger than you had thought it'd be- from a distance you could see a Ferris wheel, and the smell of popcorn and corn dogs wafted through the air. You thought back to your plan and imagined all the things that you were going to do with Sal today.

You were gonna romance the shit out of this boy.

"There's a lot of people here already" Sal commented, looking around. He was right, there were a ton of people here, and a lot of them were dressed up in costumes. It was the Saturday before Halloween and a lot of the parents in town were using this opportunity to let their kids get candy and dress up beforehand, as Halloween was gonna fall on a Tuesday this year.

"Maybe we should have dressed up." you suggested, feeling a little disappointed that you hadn't thought of it earlier.

Sal just shrugged. "Most people think I'm just wearing a mask anyway." he turned his head towards you. "You're the one that sticks out like a sore thumb."

You couldn't help but laugh. "And Sally Face goes in for the kill! And just what are you gonna say when some kid asks what you're supposed to be?"

He thought for a second. "I'll just tell them I'm a serial killer. You said it yourself, I'm Jason chic."

"The Sally Face Killer, huh? Kinda has a nice ring to it, like a good creepy pasta or campfire story."

"Who do you think I'd kill?" he asked. "If I'm gonna go with this, I gotta make it convincing."

"Oh you killed everyone in the apartments." you replied matter-of-factly. "You just went crazy one night and totally snapped and killed everyone because of... I don't know... Cthulhu or something."

"That doesn't make much sense."

"It's a scary story, it doesn't have to make too much sense. You gotta suspend your disbelief." you smiled.

You two continued chatting as you took your time walking around the fairground. All around you kids were playing pretend, adults were tasting some home brew ciders, and all the colors of fall and Halloween surrounded you. Even with Sal's sky blue hair, he fit in perfectly with everyone. No one was staring at him, well, except for you.

You watched him closely as you walked around. With his prosthetic and one good eye, he could be hard to read outside of his voice, but that was a small challenge that you loved. Reading his body language had been an important factor these past few weeks. He was a very squirmy and antsy guy when it came down to it. There was always some part of him moving- from tapping his pencil when he was concentrating to talking with his hands when he was especially excited about something. Larry once mentioned that he'd make a great mime if he ever decided to not talk.

Sal stopped for a moment and looked around, his eye landing on a small booth in the corner. Following his gaze, you spotted what he was looking at- a booth selling fresh made applesauce. This couldn't have been more perfect, you knew for a fact that applesauce was one of his favorite foods. He had confessed that he liked it originally because it was a food that he could more easily eat with his prosthetic on.

"That smells amazing." you said. "Wanna go grab some?"

His hand tightened slightly around yours for a moment, giving it a small squeeze. "I didn't have lunch." he admitted. "I got wrapped up in practicing before I realized what time it was."

"Well, lucky for you we are at a place with a ton of food. Come on, let's get some applesauce, my treat."

There were several different flavors to choose from, the lady running the booth explained. The apples were fresh picked from a few towns over, and some of it was being made at the booth.

"I've never had warm applesauce before." Sal admitted, before a spoon was shoved towards him.

"Have a sample, dear." the lady said, not taking no for an answer.

Sal awkwardly fumbled with the spoon for a moment before unclasping the lower strap of his face.

"This is really good!" he said with slight surprise.

"We'll take two." You told the lady, handing over the cash.

"Thank you." Sal said, as you two walked away with your treats.

"It's no problem. I gotta show my date a good time." you winked at him.

He replied by shoving another spoonful of applesauce into his mouth.

The next few hours were simple, walking around and chatting while stopping at different booths to taste and eat all the different carnival foods. You two compared notes, and had a slightly heated debate on which fall flavor was better. Sal liked apple cinnamon, you were a sucker for pumpkin spice. Though you were generous with buying a lot of the treats that you split, you did allow him to buy you two bottles of water and some crazy straws. You knew he wouldn't have been comfortable if you had been the only one spending money, even if he was a little bit on the completely broke side.

Phase 1: Feed the Boy was complete, it was time for Phase 2: Woo the boy.

Wooing in this case meant taking him over to the games and winning him a stuffed animal. You had considered going to the rides first, but after all the food that you two had ingested it was probably a bad idea.

"What is that?" Sal suddenly asked, stopping in front of a booth. "Please tell me you're seeing this too, and that it's just not me."

It didn't take long to find what he was staring at- it was a large stuffed cat, seemingly shaped like a specific cartoon character mascot, except the colors were all wrong. It was green and red and yellow with... the Sanity Falls logo on the stomach?

"That is an atrocity against God." You said in awe.

"I want it."

As if he needed to ask, really. Within seconds the two of you were seated at the booth, water guns in hand. No matter what the outcome, Sal was getting that stupid, beautiful, ugly cat.

"Let's do this." He said lining up his shot as the two of you attempted to fill the cardboard clowns mouth with water. Had this not been a high steaks mission, you'd make a dirty joke about this, but it wasn't the time. There was a hideous cat to be won.

Both of your guns stopped working at the same time. Sal had won.

"You can pick any of the prizes on this wall." The guy running the booth said.

"What do I need to do to get that cat?" Sal replied, pointing to the other side of the booth.

"Win three times."

You slammed a few more dollars on the table. "I'm in."

"You really don't have to!" Sal replied as he received a small stuffed pink alligator. It was ugly, but you wanted only the most ridiculous for your hopefully-soon-to-be boyfriend.

"We can't just leave him here!" you said. "Can you imagine that dumb thing stuck here for weeks with no heavy metal to listen to?"

Sal saw that this wasn't a battle that he could win. This was your hill to die on, and he sat back down next to you.

You won this time, that was a good sign, Sal winning a second time. You felt like the guy should have given it to you by the fourth play through where you won, seeing as it was obvious that the two of you were together but no such luck. You supposed he had to make money some way.

All you needed to do was win one more time, and the cat would be yours. And by yours you meant his.

Mid game, Sal caught your eye, his water gun jerked slightly to the left, clearly missing for a few seconds before steadying itself back.

Sal was letting you win, the smug jerk!

You wanted to be offended but you also wanted to laugh. He was letting you win so that you could get the prize! You doubt he even realized that the reason you wanted it so bad was so that you could give it to him!

Three minutes later, the guy running the booth was handing you the large stuffed cat.

"He's even weirder up close." Noted Sal, looking him over.

"What are you gonna name him?" you asked, handing him the stuffie.

"Me?"

"Yeah you, I won him for you, you know." you said with a smile.

"But you're the one who paid for all the games. How much money did you spend at that stand?"

"Don't ask questions I don't want to know the answer to." You replied with a hand wave.

"...."

"Hm, if it means that much to you, we'll do joint custody. You get him during the week, and I'll take him on Thursdays or something." You tried to negotiate.

That seemed to allow Sal to relax. "I think I can live with that. Though I hope Gizmo is okay with me bringing him home a little brother."

You took his hand again, this time lacing your fingers together. "Knowing your cat, he'll be fine."

...

LarryFace: hows the date going?

BlankFace: I think it's going well! I fed him applesauce and won him the best stuffed animal ever!

Blankface sent Pic_253

LarryFace: aww man I'm jealous :(

BlankFace: You should be ;D

...

AshleyFace: Hey! How are you doing today?

SallyFace: oh, I'm good! i'm hanging out at the fall festival today

AshleyFace: Hot date?

SallyFace: haha she's acting like it is, it's kinda nice actually

AshleyFace: what do you mean "acting like" ...?

SallyFace: g2g, about to go check out the stage!

...

"Come on! I wanna make sure you get a good view!" you said, practically dragging Sally behind you.

"Why? What's gonna be on stage?" Sal asked.

"Something that I think you're gonna get a kick out of." you replied, smiling back at him.

Sal wasn't one to argue with you at this point; you had been doing such a good job at making sure he had fun that he trusted you with whatever plans you had come up with. He gripped onto you hand tighter as you two weaved through the lawn towards the front of the stage.

"Looks like they're just about to start." you looked over at him with a shit-eating grin as the two person band with acoustic guitars took the stage. They started playing a slow melody before they familiar lyrics played.

Concealed behind the screens

An obsession obscene

Abandon our souls as we become

Machine

Sal froze and stared at the stage for a moment, jerking his head between you and the band in front of you two.

"No." he said after a moment more of them playing.

"Yes"

"There's no way."

"Oh yes way there is."

"This isn't-"

"An acoustic Sanity’s Fall cover band? Oh yes it is."

You heard Sal snort from under his prosthetic. "Sanity’s Fall was not meant to be played like this."

"I don't know, I kinda like it. I can actually understand what they're saying." you teased, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him as close as you dared. You didn't want to be too forward and made him uncomfortable. To your delight he didn't pull away or tense up.

"You still think I can play better than these guys, right?" he asked.

"Dude, of course. You fuckin' shred."

That was good enough for Sal, as he turned his attention back to the stage, occasionally making a comment about how the band had transposed from electric to acoustic or about how one song didn't make any sense unless you can head bang to it. You smiled and allowed yourself to watch him, glad that you were on the same side as his glass eye- it gave you an easier time to watch without him noticing.

A few songs later and the cover band left the stage. In a weird way, it had been a nice compromise to Larry's original idea of taking Sally to a real SF concert. Plus getting to see all the confused parents and adults around the stage really made it work.

"So, is there anything you want to do?" you asked him as you both left the stage area.

"I thought you had all the plans." Sal teased.

"Oh, I do." you reassured him. "I had to leave room for 'let my date choose something to do', you know."

"So I can pick anything?" he asked.

"Anything at all."

"I want you to get your face painted."

That surprised you. "Really? I mean, sure if you want me too, but why?"

"I can tell that you feel a little left out that you aren't dressed up for Halloween." he admitted. "I want you to feel happy, too."

That dumb boy made your heart melt on the spot. How was he able to see through you like that? He started leading you to the face paint station, and shoved some money at the lady before you even had a chance to protest.

"What'll it be?" they asked.

You took a look at their board, and pointed to a picture of a girl with the top of her face as a pumpkin looking mask. You didn't want a full face, especially something on your mouth.

Sal watched with amusement as the lady went to work turning you into a pumpkin. Halfway through he snapped a pic and sent it to the group chat.

SallyFace sent Pic_003

LarryFace: its the great pumpkin charlie face!

...

AshleyFace: Hey Larry, I think there might be a problem with the date

LarryFace: what u mean?

AshleyFace: I don't think Sal realizes this is an actual date.

LarryFace: what?? hes gotta! i even gave him the heads up that she wanted to take him on a date!

AshleyFace: ???? What exactly happened?

LarryFace: well me and sally face were talking about dates and he said hed never been on one and i said that she had been thinking about asking him on a date cause she wanted to give him a good first date

AshleyFace: Dammit Larry, don't meddle in these kinds of things! I think you gave Sal the idea that this is some sort of fake date!

LarryFace: oh fuck knuckles

...

"What do you think?" you asked, smiling at Sal and batting your eyelashes.

"I think it's cute!" he replied. "They did a great job with the shading."

"Thanks for doing this for me, by the way. That was very sweet of you."

"It's only fair, you won me this cat."

"Then I guess we're even right now. But I'm gonna win."

"Win what?"

"Your heart, of course." you said with an easy grin. You wished you had a better idea of what was going through his head. Normally you could gauge how well your flirting went over by how pink his ears turned, but with him wearing the hat, you didn't have much to go off of.

The sun was starting to set at this point, even though it was barely 5 pm. Though it had only been a few hours, it felt so much shorter and yet so much longer. You tightened your grip on his hand slightly, knowing that with his singular eye he wasn't a huge fan of walking around at night in a crowd. There were a lot more older people here now that it was getting darker- a lot of the parents must have decided to take the kids home.

You thought back to everything you saw online about the festival, trying to decide if it'd be better to go on rides now or start looking around at some of the art tents.

"I've never been on a Ferris wheel." Sal offered, suddenly. It was almost as if he was reading your mind, that or he was trying to change the subject from your previous flirting.

"Wanna ride?" you asked, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. He let out a small laugh.

"It looks like it could be fun."

The two of you stood in line for a good 45 minutes before you were able to get on. You two had discussed tapping out, but both of you decided that you were too invested at this point. It was okay though, it was still a good time to talk and flirt with him.

Once you two were on the ride, it quickly became apparent at how rickety and unsafe this whole thing felt. There was nothing to stop either of you from falling except for a metal bar and Gods' Will. As your cart went up one to let the next people on the ride, you suddenly remembered something very important, and you gripped at the handle bar tightly.

"Wow, this thing sure is janky. Hey, are you okay?" Sal asked.

"Fine." you replied quickly and tensely as the Ferris wheel moved upwards again.

"You don't seem fine."

"...I may have just remembered that I am not really a super huge fan of being anywhere except for on the ground." you admitted, not wanting to really say-

"You're afraid of heights?"

Dammit Sally Face.

"And you know that feeling you get when you're on a roller coaster and you go over a hump and your stomach does that thing where it drops?" you asked, he nodded. "Not a huge fan of that either."

"Is that why you always decline going on roller coasters with me and Larry?" Sal asked, as you two moved up once again. You couldn't help but nod.

"Sorry. I lied. I'm not actually as hard core as you two." You gave him a weak smile, going up once more, almost to the top now.

He reached out and place his hand on top of one of yours. "It's okay. I won't tell anyone." You two were now at the top, the sun shining directly behind Sal's head making him look like an angel.

What kind of romantic bullshit was this? You were supposed to be wooing him, not the other way around! But still, it let you relax a bit as the two of you moved down one. Everyone was now on the ride and it was time to start spinning for real.

The first go-round was the worst, but it got easier after that. The whole time Sal pointed out different things that he could make out to distract you, and by the time the ride was over you had found yourself having fun, even if it was on a spinning death machine.

Your legs were a bit shaky as you two exited the ride, but you were smiling wide. "I didn't completely hate it and it's all thanks to you, Sally Face."

"I knew you could do it." This time he took your hand, and your heart raced for a moment.

Together you went on a few more rides. Despite your lack of enthusiasm for the Ferris wheel, you were a master at anything that spun around really fast, though after two of those rides, Sal had to tap out.

"The applesauce was good going down, but I don't think it'd be good coming back." he said.

You wished that there had been some sort of fireworks or big ending to the date, but the festival didn't have anything like that. Come and have fun til 9 then leave, was the basic idea.

It was 7 now, two hours until everything shut down but you could tell that the two of you were starting to get tired and had seen almost everything there was.

"This was a lot of fun." Sal said as you two headed towards the exit.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"And you said this was happening every weekend until mid-November, right?"

"Yup! It's-"

"What are you supposed to be?" you suddenly heard a voice next to you. Some middle-schooler with fake blood coming out of every opening on their face was staring at the two of you.

"I'm the pumpkin queen." You replied.

"Not you, that one." the kid said, pointing at Sal.

"I'm the Sally Face Killer." he replied without missing a beat and you couldn't help but smile.

"Where'd you get your mask? I want it." the kid replied, still staring intently at Sal.

"It's a prosthetic." Sal explained. "It protects my face from-"

"So you're like, a total freak under there?"

"Woah, he now kid. Don't be rude." you quickly spoke up. "Come on, Sal let's go."

You started to pull him away, when you felt a slight catch. Sal let out a surprised grunt and you turned around to look at him.

For the very first time, you were truly face to face with Sal Fisher.

Next Chapter

#sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader #sally face #nacht post #nacht fic #cant be unseen #cbu

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jackscnallen · 4 years

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clothes task – task number three. // jackson’s style!

as a child, jackson wore whatever mama allen bought him. ugly turtlenecks with dinosaurs on them, green corduroy pants, crocs – you name it, jackson probably wore it. as he grew into his teen years, he started channeling his inner michael cera with the jeans, plain shirt and hoodie or knit sweater. eventually, though, his style took a turn, if one could start calling it style. when he hit seventeen, he started wearing what he wears now – tight black jeans, an assortment of patterned shirts and pullovers he has accumulated over the years ( and he usually wears whichever one smells cleanest ), a jean jacket or a flannel, and black converse or vans. he also almost always has a snapback perched backwards covering his hair, but if he doesn’t you can bet he spent ten minutes trying to get it to stay in the natural-looking quiff he likes. jackson doesn’t like switching up his style because he feels vulnerable and judged if he wears anything else. for special occasions, he will try his hardest to just dress as he normally does, but if he has to wear something fancier, it’ll be all black with the one pair of nice shoes he owns. he basically wears everything shawn mendes wears, ngl. for more inspo and ideas of this boy’s simple style, take a look here.

childhood ➡ now

“when i was younger, my mom liked to dress me in a lot of polo shirts and cargo pants in the summer. growing up in chicago, i had a ton of sweaters and jackets and long sleeve shirts, as you can imagine, and my mom always picked out things with patterns all over them and sometimes they had designs on the front, too. of course, about half my wardrobe was in the color orange and dark blue for the bears; i had jerseys, t-shirts, jackets... you name it. and i probably had it with the bears logo on it. my style in middle and high school was pretty normal. I just wore jeans and sweaters most of the time, i never put too much thought into it. i had more things to worry about than what i was wearing, so i just kept it simple.

casual / day-to-day attire

“i try to pay a bit more attention to my clothes now that i’m starting to have more people paying attention to me. i like a lot of neutral colors, mostly just because they pair well and you can mix and match things. i still really love sweaters, even though i don’t get to wear them often when the warmer months roll around. most of the time you’ll see me wearing jeans, probably skinny jeans, and a t-shirt, or maybe a flannel shirt. i love a good leather jacket, too. i try to be a little bit more fashionable, and my clothes now are definitely not anything too special, but i like to keep it pretty simple with the way i dress. i mean, you can’t go wrong with a ‘classic’ look, can you?”

special occasions

“i’m a sucker for a nice black suit and tie with a white shirt, and that’s my go-to outfit for special occasions. it’s such a timeless look, and it kinda makes me feel like james bond, honestly. of course, a fancy outfit isn’t complete without a nice ass watch and some nice ass shoes. again, it’s a ‘classic’ look for a reason.”

#malnatitasks #( ❛ ░ ▌take a piece of my heart // tasks.

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falseh0od · 5 years

Text

The First Most Handsome Prince

LONG POST!

What? Me, trying my hand at writing Sanders Sides fics, and ending up writing fluffy Royality? It’s more likely than you think. I may not be romantic, but this ship takes my uwus... and there’s one other romantic thing I’m a sucker for, too. Read to find out 🤔 And if this flops, I won’t be surprised honestly. I am aromantic for a reason.

I’m considering doing a similar Analogical fic too, lemme know if you think I should do it.

Pairings: Romantic Royality

Warnings: One fleeting mention of Deceit, but other than that there shouldn’t be any? Lemme know if you see smth.

———————————————————————

Roman let out a deep, relieved sigh as finally, finally, Thomas posted the long-awaited new Sanders Sides video.

That had been all Thomas had been focusing on for the last few weeks, as was normal when it came to the production of Sanders Sides videos. They had put most of their time and energy into it- making sure they had all the film they needed, and editing all of it together into one video. Roman was pleased with it- and he hoped the Fanders would be too.

He was sitting on the couch, watching Thomas scroll through all the reactions on Twitter when he felt someone wrap their arms around his chest and peck a kiss against his cheek. Roman smiled and looked up to see Patton smiling down on him.

“Everything going well?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Roman assured him. “The Fanders loved it, as expected.”

“I think this was our best one yet,” Patton commented, coming around the couch and sitting next to Roman.

“We say that after every video,” Roman laughed.

“Because it’s true!” Pat insisted, also giggling. “And now that we don’t have the video to worry about anymore, we get to focus on the surprise you have planned for tonight.”

Patton’s eyes were teasing as he smiled at Roman. Roman just shook his head.

“I’m still not telling you anything about it,” Roman said, turning away so he wasn’t allured by his boyfriend’s puppy dog eyes (that Roman would never admit Patton was really good at). “How else could it be a surprise?”

Roman and Patton had been a thing for a little more than a year now. When they told everyone else, it had only surprised Thomas; Logan had merely sighed and passed a dollar to Virgil while Virgil smirked at him.

Virgil and Logan had been in a relationship longer, by only about 5 months, but it had felt like much longer by pretty much everyone. They were both very happy though, and could be seen together a good portion of the time.

Roman and Patton were much the same, except were more extravagant in their gestures of love (much to Logan and Virgil’s shagrin). Date nights usually started mid afternoon for the two and lasted well into, or even through, the night. They took turns planning dates, and often played towards the other’s likes and mood at the time.

Tonight was Roman and Patton’s first date night in almost a month, due to video production taking first priority. They’d made sure to take time for their relationship, but they were both excited to get an actual date in (their first one since their one year anniversary).

Roman had insisted on taking date-planning responsibility and had went to extreme lengths to keep the whole night a secret from his curious boyfriend. That being said, Patton was bursting at the seams from the excitement over seeing what his boyfriend had planned.

And Roman had big, BIG plans.

Patton leaned over and the two of them shared a short yet sweet kiss before Roman stood up.

“I must make final preparations before tonight, my love!” he declared when Patton protested at him getting up. Roman took the other side’s hand in his own and kissed it while Pat blushed. “I will send for you when I am ready.”

“Sounds good, my prince,” Patton called back with a giggle as Roman walked off.

Roman headed for the stairs. There had been a very small white lie in his last statement- he had only one preparation to do before the big night. And this one had to be perfect.

————————————————

As date night finally approached, Patton finally got some info about the forthcoming evening- it was to be a casual-dress night. Patton still put some effort into looking nice, wearing his normal baby blue shirt but with his old cardigan hanging loosely over that, making sure his logo was still visible.

He tugged on his typical khaki pants and pulled on a pair of blue sneakers that matched his shirt to top off the outfit.

Pat knew Roman had put a lot of thought into his preparations. He was thoroughly excited to see just what Roman had pulled off.

At precisely 4:00pm, Roman knocked lightly on Patton’s door. He was still very princely-looking, having thoughtfully chosen a red t-shirt with a golden crown printed on the front, and a white bomber jacket with elaborate, golden embroidery on the shoulders. He also wore dark skinny jeans and red sneakers that otherwise perfectly matched Pat’s.

Oh, and naturally his red sash was in its usual placement as well, as Roman liked to keep up a little of his normal appearance no matter what.

Patton opened the door and gasped at Roman’s still-stately appearance. “Ro!” He squealed. “You look so handsome!”

Roman’s cheeks flushed a pale pink at the compliment. “Hardly in comparison to you, Pat,” he teased back.

The two connected in a quick, passionate kiss before Roman held out his arm, and Patton quickly slid his hand through the crook.

Roman lead them down the hallway to the door to the Imagination. He took a deep breath. “Are you ready for a wonderful night?”

“I haven’t been more ready ever in my life.”

Roman grinned widely and opened the door.

Patton peered inside, and gaped at the view.

It was a quaint little restaurant, empty and quiet as the evening sun shone onto the lake outside and through the windows, only barely starting to set. There were a couple dozen tables littered around the room, one in particular covered in a white tablecloth with a candelabra adorning the center. The overhead lights had been dimmed, and the careful blaze of the candles made shadows dance in the distance. It reminded Patton of the spagetti scene in Lady and the Tramp (which surprised him very little).

Roman took them into the room, closing the door behind them. He went ahead and pulled Patton’s chair out for him, allowing him to sit down.

“Roman, it’s beautiful,” Patton breathed as he continued to take in their surroundings.

“I’m so glad you like it,” Roman grinned, taking his own seat. “It took me forever to decide how to design it. I wanted everything to be perfect.”

“It’s more than perfect,” Patton laughed. “It’s magical!”

“That is only the highest compliment I could’ve asked for,” Roman replied with a huge smile.

Roman quickly summoned their dinner of spaghetti and meatballs (which also did not surprise Patton), steaming hot and fresh.

They ate and chatted about everything they could think of, from puppies, to Talyn’s new hairstyle, to Roman’s next video plan. Their chatter lasted a couple hours, so by the time Roman took care of their dishes with a wave of his hand, it was already 7pm, and the sun was much lower in the sky.

“What’s next?” Patron questioned, leaning his head on his hand as he waited excitedly for the response.

“Well, we have another destination to get to, but it’s rather difficult to get to,” Roman responded, standing up and offering his arm again. “However, I have the transportation situation all taken care of.”

“Oh?” Patton pressed, taking Roman’s arm, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Roman smirked. “Follow me.”

A short walk to the beach was all it took to confuse Patton about what their final destination was. They stood waiting for-something- for several minutes, Roman getting more and more nervous as each second passed.

Then, something appeared on the horizon. Patton has to squint to see the tiny dot that was slowly getting bigger.

Roman sighed with relief. “There she is.”

Patton tilted his head in confusion. “She?”

He received only a wink from Roman, and he said nothing else.

Patton thought his eyes must be messing with him as the dot got closer. Either he wasn’t feeling well or there was a vaguely dragon shaped figure heading towards them. Considering that he felt fine, Patton came under the assumption that it was more likely the latter.

He gaped at Roman, who merely smirked and remained silent.

Surely enough, only minutes later, a full-sized, very REAL dragon landed on the ground next to them. She was at least 15 feet tall, including her neck, and her metallic scales shone a brilliant magenta against the setting sun. Her neck was long and thick, thicker than the trunk of a tree, and each of her stout legs could easily crush a small creature if she wasn’t careful.

Roman bowed deeply.

“Thank you again for this, Casanova,” Roman called as he approached the giant beast. The dragon merely huffed, smoke coming out of her nostrils.

Patton slowly followed his boyfriend, in awe of the creature standing before him. “A dragon?”

“She owes me a favor,” Roman shrugged. “I saved her life from a gang of thieves in the mountains a couple years ago, and dragons do not forget their promises.”

Then, much to Patton’s shock, Roman climbed into the dragon’s back. He then held out his hand to Patton.

Patton hesitantly took it. “You sure this is safe?” he squeaked.

“Love, you’re starting to sound like Logan,” Roman laughed. “But yes, I assure you, she will not let us fall.”

Trusting his partner, Patton quickly clambered onto the dragon’s back, wrapping his arms around Roman’s torso. Moments later, Casanova unfolded her massive wings, and started to flap.

Patton shrieked with terror and excitement as they lifted into the sky. He hugged closer to Roman as they went higher and higher, up into the clouds.

Roman laughed merrily as Patton squeezed tighter against him. “You alright back there, love?” he called against the roar of the wind. Patton merely nodded against his shoulder, too terrified and in awe as they glided through the sky.

The view was strikingly beautiful; it felt like they could see for miles. Casanova wove her way gracefully through the sky, taking extra care not to jostle her passengers. They headed into the horizon, and she dipped carefully down and maintained an altitude just feet above the water.

Patton leaned carefully into the mist created as the wind disturbed the water enough to cause a small wake to trail behind them.

A small island quickly appeared in the distance, and within minutes they were landing on the shore furthest from the mainland. There was a small dock just a few feet away, leading into the water, and a small grouping of trees to the back- not large enough that one would get lost in it. The trees had orange and red carefully spattered across their leaves, a sign that autumn was nigh but not quite there yet.

The air was cool and a slight breeze highlighted the crisp in each breath each side took as they slid carefully off of Casanova’s back, Roman going first and carefully helping Patton off afterwards. While relieved to have his feet back on the ground Patton couldn’t deny that he was a little sad the thrill ride was over.

Roman bowed to Casanova again. She gave a curt nod back and then took back off into the sky.

Patton watched her leave, then turned to his boyfriend. “Roman, that was incredible.”

Roman slid his arm around Patton’s waist. “I’m so happy you liked it! It took a little convincing to get her to agree but she doesn’t go back on her word.” Roman then chuckled as they moved over onto the dock. “She’ll be happy to go back to merely tolerating me.”

Patton laughed at that as well. “Awwww, well, this whole night has been amazing. Thank you so much, Ro.”

“Well it isn’t over yet,” Roman insisted with a twinkle in his eye. “We still have a sunset to watch.”

“Really?” Patton murmured softly, turning to the sky, his own arm going around Roman’s waist. The sun was nearly fully down now, casting a pink and orange hue onto the clouds and sky. It looked like a painting or a postcard. The other side of the mainland was just in view, more trees poking into the sky. Patton also caught a glimpse of what looked like a castle in the distance.

They stood for many minutes, too many to count.

Roman softly cleared his throat, a few butterflies fluttering into his chest.

“Do you remember...” he started softly.

“The 21st night of September?” Patton added helpfully.

Roman laughed and planted a kiss to the top of Patton’s head. “Not quite what I was going for.”

“I had a feeling,” Patton giggled in response.

Roman sighed and looked back onto the sunset. “No, I was thinking about... a while back. You remember when Deceit put us through that courtroom scenario over the wedding vs the callback?”

“Mmm. That was quite a day.”

“It was. I’m not alluring to the reasoning behind that scenario, merely one moment. One specific moment, when you were cross-examining me while I was on the witness stand.”

Roman turned to Patton, who reciprocated the action, looking at his boyfriend with curious eyes.

“You had me imagine a scenario where I had the opportunity to marry the second most handsome prince in the world,” Roman recalled, a smile drifting onto his face. “I still think about that scenario a lot, but a few things have changed as time has gone on.”

“Oh?”

“Well, two things have remained the same,” Roman commented thoughtfully. “I’m still marrying a handsome prince, and I still long for it to come true as much as I did back then.”

“Then what’s changed?” Patton inquired softly, slightly confused but curiosity still overtaking any other emotion.

Roman took Patton’s hands in his. “Well, now I like to imagine I’m marrying not the second, but the first most handsome prince.”

Roman got down on one knee, and Patton’s hand flew over his mouth.

“And it also seems a lot more realistic nowadays, too,” Roman added with a loving smile. Patton’s eyes filled with tears.

“I know we’re merely figments of Thomas’s imagination, so there’s no way we could ever make it official in any legal sense.” Roman stuck his free hand into his pocket and pulled out a small box. “But it would be real and official to us, and that’s all that matters to me.”

He opened the box to reveal a ring, the band golden, shiny, and embedded with several small baby blue-colored diamonds of varying sizes . “Patton, my love, and the first most handsome prince in the world, will you marry me?”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely, Ro!”

Roman couldn’t hold back his grin as he slid the ring onto Patton’s finger, then stood up. Patton threw his arms around Roman’s neck, and they kissed, deep and sweet.

When they pulled apart, Roman summoned a bench, padded with soft cushions, for them to sit on and watch the sun sink into the horizon, chatting quietly and celebrating the declaration of love and promise of forever they had just made.

Later Roman would pull them back into the mindpalace through a door on the island, and they would then celebrate the exciting news with the rest of their famILY.

~THE END~

I hope you all enjoyed!!!

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foreverwayward · 5 years

Text

“Wayward Hearts” Season 2 Chapter 10: Heart

Summary: After the sudden death of John, Sam and Dean, along with Riley, continue their quest for vengeance. As Sam and Riley’s powers continue to grow, the three young hunters find themselves closer to the Yellow-Eyed demon than ever before. The strength within themselves and their loyalty to each other will be tested as they are left to fight their families’ lifelong war alone, unaware that unimaginable evil will lead them to face darkness itself as they carry the weight of their fathers’ legacies.

Masterlist

Word Count: 9,027

Content Warning: language, light smut and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

Dean and Riley sat on opposite beds in the dingy motel room somewhere in San Francisco as they cleaned their guns. The familiar sound of the metal clicking as they took them apart felt like sweet, yet strange, childhood memories.

The Winchester’s eyes looked up at Riley as she focused on her task and he watched her for a brief moment as a smirk crept up his face. Even with silence between them and being lost in their work, the couple enjoyed those quiet moments. Words didn’t need to be said for them to enjoy each other’s company.

Breaking his attention away from the guns and the girl in front of him, Dean looked towards his brother. “So, this lawyer guy you checked out at the morgue today, he the first heart-free corpse in town?”

“First man,” Sam emphasized as he got a bottle of beer from the fridge. “Nate Mulligan, a local lawyer. But, over the past year, several women have gone missing. Dead bodies all washed up later in the bay, too deteriorated to draw firm conclusions.”

“But no hearts?”

“No hearts. They were all hookers working Hunter’s Point.” Sam sat backward in his chair, facing his partners as he popped the cap off his drink. “Now, cops are trying to keep things under wrap, but they’re looking for a serial killer.”

“What about the lunar cycle,” Riley asked.

“Mm-hmm. Yeah, month after month, all the murders happen in the week leading up to the full moon.”

“That’s this week, right?”

“Hence the lawyer.”

Dean snickered. “Awesome.”

With a breathy laugh, Riley gazed up from her gun saying, “damn. Geeking out much over there, Dean?”

“I’m sorry, but what about a human by day, a freak animal killing machine by moonlight’ don’t you understand?” Dean opened a black, smaller, rectangular box filled with silver bullets. “I mean, werewolves are badass. We haven’t seen one since we were kids.”

“Okay, Sparky,” Sam started in a playful and teasing tone. “And you know what? After we kill it, we can go to Disneyland!”

Dean ignored his brother’s snarky comment. “What about you, Rye? Run into any of these guys before?”

“Uh--yeah. I was about...13 I think? Dad and I caught wind of one when we were in Minnesota right after I had really started hunting with him. It was a tough son of a bitch, I’ll tell you that much.” She was already up and putting away her gear as she tied her hair up in a messy bun and synched it tight. “My first kill on a hunt actually.”

“Damn,” he nodded, impressed. “You went balls to the wall.”

“Well, Dad always said, ‘know your gun, know your target, and don’t miss’.” She laughed at the ridiculous mantra. ”Good thing I’m a damn good shot.” Riley tilted her head with a shrug. “It’s a gift.”

Dean chuckled. “A gorgeous woman who can handle a gun, what more could I ask for?”

She bent down to kiss him with a smile as she sat on the bed.

“You know what the best part about it is? We already know how to bring these suckers down.” Dean held up a silver bullet and admired it. “One of these bad boys right to the heart. So, what’s our next move?”

“Talk to the girl that found the body,” Sam added.

------

In a well-decorated apartment, the three stood waiting to speak to the witness. The walls were a soft neutral color with nearly sheer white window curtains. Subtle plants sat the perfect positions of the living room among the clean and somewhat modern furniture.

The witness was a young woman named Madison. She was taller than Riley and truly beautiful. Her long brunette hair ran over her shoulders and touched her chest. Madison had fuller lips and a soft skin tone that just suited her so well.

A neighbor had already been visiting when the hunters got there. He was a meek-looking man with a head of dark curly hair, with a beard and mustache to match. The man was wearing a yellow shirt with a logo from ‘Mission Church’ and a large cross.

Sam, Dean, and Riley weren’t dressed in their suits, though still posed as detectives for the case.

“I’m Detective Landis.” Dean pointed to Sam before gesturing to Riley as well. “These are my partners, Dante, and Wadleigh.”

“I don’t understand,” Madison said looking slightly confused. “I already gave my statement to the police.”

“Right. We just have to go over a few things,” Sam replied.

The man’s face looked almost sad knowing it was time for him to leave. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it. Just call me if you need anything, Madison.”

“I will. Thanks again for the casserole.” After the neighbor had taken his leave, Madison looked over to the undercover hunters. “He’s sweet. Glen--he’s a neighbor. Came over to check on me.” She exhaled. “Alright, well please--have a seat.” Madison guided them all over to the glass countered table as they sat down to talk.

“You must be pretty shaken up. You were Nate Mulligan’s assistant, right?”

“For about two years, yeah.”

Riley looked over at the woman trying to get a read on her. “So, would you say you pretty much knew all about him?”

With a nod, Madison answered, “yeah. Probably knew more about him than he did. Nate was…” she smiled fondly. “He was nice. But, uh--I mean, you get a few scotches in him and he’d start hitting on anything within a five-mile radius. You know the type.”

“Did Nate have any enemies?” Dean inquired.

“What do you mean? It sure looked like an animal attack.”

“No, yeah--we’re just covering all the bases. Anyone that might have had a beef with him--a former client, an ex…”

Madison groaned softly hating to answer that question. “Well, this is kinda embarrassing, but my ex-boyfriend, Kurt--Kurt Mueller. He went a little nuts after our break up. He’s...kind of been stalking me. I guess he got it in his head that there was something going on between me and Nate and showed up at the office one day. Kurt came in pissed and started something with Nate and threw a punch. Security had to come in and drag him out. I’m lucky I didn’t lose my job.”

“When did you see Kurt last?” Riley felt a gentleness coming from Madison. She seemed like a genuinely sweet girl. Everything she was saying up until then was the whole truth. It didn’t seem like she had much to hide at all; except for the fact that Riley was able to pick up that the girl was definitely attracted to Sam.

It made her have to hide a smile she felt coming on.

“Actually, a few nights ago, the night Nate died. Kurt showed up when a bunch of us from the office went out for a drink. It was like--he was watching me? He just disappeared. I’ll be honest,” Madison paused. “He scares me.”

------

The hunters went down the steps toward the sidewalk. Bare winter trees surrounded the area and the cold bay air caused their breaths to fog.

“So, what do you guys think?” Riley asked. “I mean, the stalker ex-boyfriend hated the boss and was there the same night.”

Dean looked around the neighborhood, checking things around them as he always did. “Think he’s our dog-faced boy?”

“Well, it’s a theory,” Sam shrugged.

“We’ve gone off worse.”

As they all reached the Impala, Riley reached for the front door handle. “I say we give Kurt a friendly visit.”

Riley and the Winchesters got in the car and drove down the road.

At that moment, Madison began to peek out the window after hearing a noise from outside. Moving the curtains to get a better look, she saw Kurt standing on her lawn, staring back up at her. She gasped and jumped back.

When she went to look again, Kurt was already gone.

------

That night, the boys and Riley had arrived at Kurt’s apartment. After scoping out the area and knowing he wasn’t home, Dean picked the lock before they all went inside.

Nodding her head and giving a face of approval, Riley looked around some more before speaking. “Huh. Much nicer than what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?” Sam asked.

“I dunno...not so clean and decorated. More...serial killer-ish? I mean, where’s the wall mural of Madison photos? Stalker fail.”

He chuckled and looked over to Dean who was looking in the fridge. “Anything?”

“Nah. Nothing but a six-pack and leftovers.”

“Check the freezer,” Riley said, interjecting. “Might be some frozen remains. Oh, and see if he’s got any ice cream. That sounds amazing.”

“No left-over doggie food or Haagen-Dazs.”

She sighed. “Wishful thinking.”

There was a sound nearby of a door opening and then shutting and the hunters all turned to look at each other.

Dean opened the sliding glass door out to the balcony and stepped outside. On the wall, he could see claw marks in the concrete that drug down to the ground.

“Guys,” Dean called. “Come here.” They joined him and he pointed to his find. “Check it out.”

After Sam, Dean, and Riley went back inside to continue their search for more about Kurt, the sound of a gunshot echoed through the neighborhood from outside.

Immediately, the three took off in its direction and found themselves on the side of the apartment building. In the alley, behind a large dumpster, lied the mauled body of a policeman. His flesh was torn into and his chest cavity had been ripped completely open. The fresh blood still gushed from him onto the concrete.

Sam pulled out his phone. “I’ll call 911.”

Dean pushed the dumpster out of the way before bending down to get a closer look and Riley joined him.

“I’d say Kurt’s looking more and more like our Cujo,” he said looking over the mangled body.

“Crap,” Riley muttered. “We gotta go check on Madison if he’s out there.”

------

It was early morning as the hunters knock on Madison’s apartment door, across the hall, Glen opened his door to the sound. “What’s going on?”

“Police business, Glen,” Dean answered.

Madison opened the door in her pajamas and robe, surprised to see them again. “What is it?” she asked, worried.

Glancing over at Glen, Sam told her, “maybe we should talk somewhere, privately.”

She stepped out of the way of the entrance letting them all in.

Riley turned to look at Glen once more and her eyes squinted slightly, not understanding on what she was picking up on him. It was strange, but she just studied him for a moment before he shut his door and disappeared into his apartment.

When they were all inside and into the kitchen, Madison poured them all cups of freshly brewed coffee. Steam formed as the warm drink filled their mugs.

“Has Kurt been here?” Sam sipped at his mug.

Riley could feel Sam’s heart flutter as he talked to Madison. His thoughts rushed and she could hear him think about how beautiful she was. Knowing they both liked each other, Riley had to somehow get them to spend time together.

Riley knew Madison would be good for Sam. Not to mention the guy hadn’t exactly spent much time with a woman since losing Jess.

“Not exactly,” she responded. “He was outside last night. Just...looking at me.”

The three exchanged looks and it didn’t go unnoticed by Madison.

“Oh god, has he done something?”

“We’re, uh--we’re not really sure...”

Dean jumped in, “It’s probably nothing, but...we just don’t wanna take any chances. In fact, one of us should probably stay here with you? Just in case he stops by. Where does he work?”

“He owns a body shop.”

“You mind grabbing that address for us?”

She nodded at his request and left the kitchen to retrieve it.

“Alright,” Sam started. “I’ll stay here. You guys go check out the body shop.”

Agreeing, almost too earnestly, Riley replied, “yeah! I think that’s a great idea!” She was smiling knowing that was her opportunity to get them together. “We’re gonna get out of here.”

Riley took Dean’s hand and waved at Sam before pulling her boyfriend along with her.

The brothers shared a quick look of uncertainty before they could no longer see each other.

When they got to the hallway, Dean closed the door behind them and glanced at her in curiosity. “What the hell was that about?”

“We…” she said hooking her arm into Dean’s, “are gonna let those two have some time alone.”

It took a second, but Dean caught on his eyebrow hooked. “Did you pick up on something?”

“Ohhhh yeah. Let’s just say...even if they have nothing to talk about, they’ll still enjoy each other’s company immensely.”

Dean grinned. “My boy.”

------

Later that morning, Madison went through her mail while Sam watched her from the kitchen. When she felt his eyes on her, she turned to meet his gaze. He smiled uncomfortably at Madison, not knowing how to act around her.

“Um...do you wanna sit on the couch?” she offered.

“No, no, no. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure,” Madison pressed sweetly. “It’s more comfortable.”

“Ah, I’m fine.”

She came back to the table with a basket of laundry and turned it over to drop it all in front of the hunter. Madison began to sift through the clothing and sorted out her underwear as she pulled out a lacy thong.

The second Sam saw the sexy underwear, he swallowed hard and blurted out, “you know what? I think I will sit on the couch.”

He awkwardly got up and went over to find another seat away from her lingerie and she smiled at his response. Sam’s cell phone rang and he pulled it out to answer.

Riley’s voice came through the line before he could even speak. “Let me guess, you’re trying to think of something to say to her and sitting all the couch like a scared teenager,” she teased.

“Did you find Kurt?”

“Nuh-uh. Dude hasn’t been in for the last week. Boss says he’s M.I.A. But, because Dean and I are just so freaking good, we got a line on where we might be able to find him.”

Sam could hear the familiar squeak of the doors as Riley and Dean got into the Impala.

“What’s she wearing?” Dean shouted loud enough for Sam to hear.

“Bye, guys.” Sam hung up immediately after, returning to his uncomfortable situation and fiddling with his hands.

Madison walked over to the couch and sat beside him before picking up the remote and turning on a soap opera.

Sam made a face, obviously unhappy with her choice.

“I saw that,” she teased.

He tried to play innocent. “What?”

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Madison smiled. “My house, my TV, and I never get to watch my show. So, suck it up.”

------

The credits from the daytime drama rolled as Sam sat on the couch completely riveted. “Wait, wait--okay, so just to get back at him, Kendall married Ethan’s father?”

“Mm-hmm. And now? All those casinos that Ethan is supposed to inherit? They’ll all go to her.”

“What a bitch!” Sam said emphatically before they both started laughing.

“Admit it. You’re hooked.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no. I wouldn’t say I’m hooked.” Madison giggled at Sam’s words. “You know, can I ask you a question? It’s--it's a little personal.”

“You’ve seen my entire underwear collection. Go ahead.”

He smiled and nodded. “Okay, um…well, you’re--you're clearly smart. I mean, your house is full--is full of great books, you know? And you’re independent…” Sam trailed off before looking over at her. “What were you doing with Kurt?”

After a pause, Madison shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like he introduced himself, like, ‘hi, I’m possessive and controlling and I like to punch people. Wanna be my girlfriend’?” The two laughed again as Sam nodded lightly. “I mean, we all make mistakes, but mine’s wanted by the police.” She took a beat again before becoming more serious. “You wanna know why I stayed with him? Really? ...I was too insecure to leave.”

“I find that hard to believe. I mean, you don’t really seem like the type.”

“Yeah, well, some stuff happened. My life changed, I changed--for the better, I think.

“What happened?”

“Well, for one thing, I got mugged.”

Sam was taken back and smiled, surprised by her answer. “And that’s supposed to be a good thing?”

“Now, don’t get me wrong,” she started. “It rattled the crap outta me. But I kinda had an epiphany. I could either take control of my life or keep feeling sorry for myself. First thing I did was tell Kurt that it was time for him to go.”

“Smart move.”

“Apparently, after that? Things just kind of blossomed. All of it really has been kind of wonderful.” When Sam shrugged, she asked with a smile, “what? Doesn’t everyone think that the best thing that ever happened to them was some random, crazy act of violence?”

Sam laughed. “Not usually, but you’re--unusual,” he added awkwardly.

“Unusual like...” she circled her finger, pointing at her head in a funny gesture as to say ‘crazy’. “That kind of ‘unusual’?”

“No, no, no, no, no…” he replied earnestly. “Unusual like...impressive.” Sam looked at her like he hadn’t looked at another woman in longer than he could remember.

“...really?” Madison tried to hide her desire to grin, completely flattered, before softly asking, “you think so?”

Sam’s phone rang, interrupting their moment and he smiled, apologetically. “Hey.”

“I found him,” Dean told him over loud club music. He was sitting in a private booth of a strip club with Riley as his eyes landed on Kurt who was drinking a beer.

“Good. Don’t take your eyes off him,” Sam’s voice echoed from the other end of the line.

Dean ended the call as Riley gave him a flirty look. “What’s going on in that little mind of yours?”

“Well…” Riley got up and straddled Dean with her arms around his neck.

His hands went to her waist and gripped at her hips as his breath hitched.

“We’re in a strip club and you’re trying not to look at naked women because of me. Least I can do is make sure you get a little show…” She bit her lip and played with the back of his neck.

Dean beamed and he suddenly got antsy in his seat as she took off her jacket, revealing her low cut, black tank top. Her lace bra poked out the top just enough to be the perfect tease.

As she began to slowly grind on his lap to the music, Dean tried to hide the groan that tried to claw its way out of his throat. Their jeans rubbed together in the most perfect way as the heat between them rose.

Riley could see him begin to wiggle underneath him and she grinned before leaning into his ear. “Good thing the music’s loud,” she whispered. “Wouldn’t want anyone else knowing you’re gonna be getting a strip club ‘happy ending’.” She softly nibbled his ear and that moan finally escaped him.

Dean grabbed her backside and encouraged her grinding as he looked her in her eyes intently. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too. Hey, don’t forget to keep an eye on the creep alright?” she reminded him.

“Right--right.” Dean almost moaned as his mouth found her neck. “We’re on a job and I take my work...very seriously,” he mumbled into her skin.

------

Riley and Dean had followed Kurt back to his apartment building. It was night and they leaned against a large dumpster in the alley below as they watched for anything to happen. Loud music came from Kurt’s place and the lights were all still on.

Loading her gun with a silver bullet, Riley cocked it. She gazed up at the apartment and then back at Dean who was pouting.

“I get five minutes in a booth with you and the guy takes off,” he complained with a huff. “You know it’s been over a week since we’ve had time alone together? I’m dying over here.”

She chuckled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a tease--thought for sure we’d have more time.”

“Yeah, well...you better be ready when the opportunity presents itself because you started something and I’m fucking finishing it.”

Riley bit her lip and met his eyes. “Mm…” she mewed. “Better keep that promise.”

Grabbing the back of her head as his fingers tangled into her hair, Dean pulled her in for a passionate and heated kiss.

Not more than a few seconds later, a loud crash of glass shattering came from above them and they turned to the sound as the lights above turned off.

“What that fuck?” Dean muttered before they both ran towards the entrance of the building in a sprint.

After they had climbed the stairs and finally reached the apartment, Dean kicked open the door with he and Riley holding their guns ready.

He glided in first, clearing the room as she covered his back. They split up as Dean went into the bedrooms and Riley into the kitchen. She slowed down as she heard a loud crunching coming from just ahead.

Riley peered inside and lowered her gun in shock. On the floor, was Kurt. His chest was torn to shreds and a woman was feeding on his freshly dead corpse.

The creature heard the hunter and turned in her direction. Electric blue eyes with slanted pupils that resembled a cat, stared back at her. The creature’s nails had grown long into deadly claws. Fierce, blood-stained teeth snarled harshly as flesh fell from her mouth. It was Madison.

“Oh shit…” Riley murmured under her breath. In that brief moment, the hunter could finally hear the growling inside the monster. It sounded more primal than anything she had ever heard before and it sounded hungry.

Before she could yell for Dean, Madison lunged at her and threw her against the wall. Riley grunted at the impact and fell to the ground. Her gun fell from her hand and out of her reach as her eyes began to close.

Dean rushed into the room at the commotion and found Riley and Kurt’s body on the floor. Whatever had been in the kitchen with them, had already fled. He fell to his knees by his girlfriend’s side with fear and dropped his gun. “Sweetheart--Rye, you okay?”

Suddenly, there was a sound coming from behind him and when he spun around, Dean’s eyes widened as he saw Madison charging towards him. She had already been too close for him to react. The was no time to grab his gun before he was shoved across the room and hit the wooden floor.

The werewolf jumped on top of him and he struggled to hold her back as he pulled out a silver knife and sliced her arm.

Madison growled out loudly in pain before dashing towards the open window and disappearing into the night.

Dean had hit his head as well and the room began to grow dark around him. “Riley…” he whispered before losing consciousness.

------

“Dean…” Riley begged as she shook him. “Dean, wake up.”

He slowly opened his eyes and saw her hovering above him as the soft morning light glowed on her face.

Riley sighed in relief and Dean instantly reached up for her.

“Shit, are you alright?! I couldn’t get to you. Madison...she came outta nowhere...”

Riley shushed him. “Dean, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

Dean grunted as he sat up, sore from the blow, but he had to get to Riley. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close.

As though it had all finally come back to him, he pulled away and grabbed for his phone. “Shit. I gotta call Sam.”

------

Sam walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a glass before turning on the faucet to get a glass of water. His lips met the rim and he drank while his cell phone rang. It was Dean.

“Dean, are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, now that we’re both conscious. The werewolf knocked us both out cold. Sam, it’s Madison.”

“What?!” Sam asked in shock. He walked into the living room and then down towards her bedroom and opened her door. She was sound asleep in her bed.

Riley stretched her neck and seethed through her teeth at the pain before yelling, “nice job keeping an eye on the girl, Sam!”

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Sam’s brow furrowed and he was more than taken back. “She’s in bed, asleep.”

“Well, she wasn’t a couple hours ago. Check her right arm below her elbow,” Dean pushed. “I nicked her with a silver knife.”

Sam hung up the phone and stood in Madison’s room near the foot of her bed. She woke to the sound of his boots hitting the floor.

“Good morning,” she cooed. Sitting up to look at him, Madison realized she was naked, covered only by her bed sheet.

Sam could see the cut on her arm that Dean had described as she wrapped her arm over her chest.

“Um...where are my pajamas?”

Shaken and clearly upset at what he had just discovered, Sam didn’t say a word, only to leave the room and stomp off.

“Sam?” she called. Madison wrapped a blanket around her and went after him. “Sam, what’s going on? Where are you going?” She walked into the living room to see him at the front door, locking it.

“I’m not going anywhere...and neither are you.”

------

After allowing her to get dressed, Sam had bound her wrists to a chair in the main room. He stood in front of her with a gun in hand and his arms slightly folded. Sam was so angry with himself for being so foolish. He kept telling himself that he should have known.

“You’re psychotic,” Madison told him. “The whole ‘I’m a cop’ trick? God, I’m so stupid.”

“Well, I guess neither of us are who we are we were, huh?” Sam snarked.

Fear filled Madison as she stared at the hunter and she fought back the urge to cry. “Sam, you’re sick, okay? You’re imagining things. Monsters don’t exist, not really.”

“You know what? Save the act.”

“It’s not an act!” she finally sobbed. “I am not a werewolf! There’s no such thing! It’s made up, alright? Th--they’re not real! You know they’re not real!”

“No?!” he snapped and pointed to her fresh wound. “Then where did that come from?”

“I don’t know! Sam, God, you need help. Please, don’t do something that you’re gonna regret. I’m not what you think I am. I’m not.”

Sam was visibly upset and shaking with both rage and pain after having developed feelings for her. There was a knocking at the door and he went to answer it.

Dean entered and Riley followed. The older brother smirked at Madison.

“How you doin’? My head feels great, thanks. By the way, you’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your right now for hurting her.” Dean threatened, pointing at Riley.

“We’ve gotta talk.” Sam brought his partners into the other room to talk in private. “She says she has no idea what I’m talking about.”

“She’s lying.”

“Or, maybe she really doesn’t know she’s changing, you know? Maybe--maybe when the creature takes over, she blacks out.”

Annoyed with his brother’s theory, Dean rolled his eyes. “Like a really hot Incredible Hulk? Come on, dude, she ganked her boss and her ex-boyfriend. That doesn’t sound rash and unconscious.”

“Yeah, but what if it was, Dean? I mean, what if some animal part of her brain saw both those guys as threats? Hell, the cop, too.”

“What are you, the Dog Whisperer now?” Riley asked with attitude.

“Look, I just...I don’t know. There--there was something in her eyes.”

“...the look of a killer, mayhaps?”

“But if she has no control over it--”

“Exactly,” Dean agreed. “She can’t control it. Even if she’s telling the truth, it’s not gonna change anything.”

“I’m not putting a bullet through some girl’s chest who has no idea what’s happening.”

“Sam, she’s a monster and you’re feeling sorry for her?”

“Maybe I understand her.” Sam paused and his face softened with almost a pleading look. “Look, there might be another way we can get the job done without having to waste her.” He went over to his bag and pulled out John’s hunter’s journal.

Riley put up a hand to interrupt. “Another way to stop a werewolf? Oh, this should be interesting.”

“Dad’s theory--” The youngest Winchester read his father’s words. “Lycanthropy might have a cure if you kill the werewolf who bit you, severing the bloodline”.

“Might have a cure.” Dean started. “Meaning “who the fuck knows?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Riley sighed heavily. She could feel Sam’s emotions, how desperately he wanted to find an answer. She wanted more than anything for Sam to be happy, but she’d be damned if he’d be with a werewolf.

Gently, Riley told him, “Sam, where would we even start looking? I mean, the bitch that bit her could be long gone. Could be anyone...or anywhere. Madison could have been bitten years ago.”

Sam’s eyes lit up with a realization. “No. I don’t think so.” He led them both back into the living room where Madison was still tied to the seat. “Madison, when were you mugged?”

She just looked up at Sam, scared and hurt as she refused to comply.

“Please. It’s important, alright? Just answer the question.”

“About a month ago.”

“Did you see the guy?”

“No. He grabbed me from behind.”

“Did he bite you?”

Madison looked at Sam as tears formed in her eyes. “On--on the back of my neck. How did you know that?”

Showing that he meant her no harm, Sam made it clear to her that he was setting his gun down on the table and went behind her.

Brushing her hair away, he exposed a scarred lump the size of a golf ball on her neck. Riley and Dean joined him to see what he had found.

“Oh, that’s just a love bite,” Dean teased. “Believe me, that could have been a lot worse. Actually, I think she’s gotten worse,” he nodded in Riley’s direction and smiled with pride.

Riley scoffed through a laugh and hid her face while Sam gave him a look urging him to move on.

Dean cleared his throat. “Where were you at the time?”

“Walking home from a friend’s loft.”

“Let me guess, not too far from Hunter’s Point?” Dean asked as he circled her.

Madison nodded.

As the brothers motioned for them to all leave the room again to talk, Riley stood in her spot just looking at the woman who had attacked them only hours before. She was trying to penetrate her mind and see if she had been lying.

Unfortunately, it seemed that besides the animalistic noises that came from monsters; thoughts of creatures were much harder to read.

A minute more of focusing, Riley could finally hear her. “What is she looking at me like that for? Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me. They’re all crazy. They really think I’m a werewolf. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”

The hunter’s face softened and her muscles relaxed. Riley turned on her heel to meet the boys. She swung open the kitchen door where Sam and Dean were talking.

Sam was finishing his thought. “The same place where those other murders happened. I’m telling you, it’s a werewolf’s hunting grounds.”

“Maybe,” Dean returned. “But that doesn’t mean it’s gonna be out there tonight.”

“You guys…” Riley said softly.

“It’s the right time of the lunar cycle,” Sam nodded. “Look, I know it’s a long shot.”

“Guys…” she tried again.

“Hey, you’re forgetting something. Maddie’s probably gonna turn soon, alright? We can’t just let her take off to an all-you-can-eat buffet,” Dean snarked.

Riley huffed and raised her voice. “Alright, if you both don’t listen to me right now, I’m gonna start kicking your asses.”

Sam and Dean’s eyes widened slightly as they both gave each other a look of ‘yikes’.

She sighed, calming herself. “I got through to Madison. Yes, she’s something you probably don’t wanna feed after midnight, but she really doesn’t know she’s a werewolf.”

“Wait, seriously?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Yeah. She thinks we’re all nuts. The girl is scared out of her mind.”

“I’m gonna stay with her. You guys go.”

“And if she busts loose?” Dean waited for his brother to respond and when he didn’t he grew more stern. “Sam?”

Sam’s voice broke a little as he told him, “I’ll shoot her, okay? But Dean, I need you to go out there--at least go look for the thing. Guys, please. We can save this girl.”

Feeling everything that radiated from Sam, all the pain and desperation, Riley knew it was all so real for him. This wasn’t just a crush. Sam felt something for Madison--something he hadn’t felt in a long time and he wasn’t ready to give it up.

“Okay,” Riley told him. “Let’s do it your way.”

Dean was looking intently at his brother with worry and she reached for his hand.

“Come on, Dean,” she whispered as they both left.

When Sam went back into the living room, he saw Madison still in her chair, with tears running down her face. “Please…” she begged through her sobbing. “Please...just let me go.”

He sighed heavily and hated to see her in pain. The hunter grabbed a chair and pulled it closer so he could sit in front of her. “Look…” Sam’s tone was soft and gentle. “I know you’re scared. I also know that there’s no way in hell you’re gonna believe me. But I’m doing this because I’m trying to help you. I’m not gonna lie, alright? The odds aren’t exactly in our favor. But, if this goes the way I pray it does...I’ll untie you, and I’ll walk out that door, and I’ll never come back. You’ll live the rest of your life,” his voice was almost at a whisper as he felt the lump in his throat grow and tears forming at his eyes. “...and I’ll just be a bad memory.”

------

Sam stood looking out the window, his heart heavy with guilt. He gazed at the moon as it’s light softly glowed on him and the curtains of the windows.

Hearing something behind him, he turned to see Madison. Her fingernails began to grow before his eyes and stretched into long claws.

Madison’s eyes changed to a bright blue and her teeth had suddenly become monstrous. She growled as she bared her hungry fangs and ripped through the restraints that held her down, releasing herself. The now turned werewolf went straight for the hunter.

Her claws met Sam’s cheek and tore through his skin. Madison’s strength was enough to send him to the ground onto his belly.

Sam quickly got up and drew his weapon.

He couldn’t shoot her. He wouldn’t shoot her. There had to be another way to buy some time.

Sam backed up as Madison eased towards him with her mouth drooling, ready to rip him apart and devour him.

Realizing there was a door to her bedroom behind him, he pulled it open as she lunged in his direction. Immediately, Sam slammed the door shut behind her and pushed the entertainment center in front of it.

The door rattled and shook as the creature inside banged and fought to free itself.

------

In a dark alley in Hunter’s Point, Riley and Dean had been canvassing the area. The night was still as they stayed quiet and vigilantly looked for the creature they hoped to find. They wouldn’t be splitting up this time.

A blood-curdling scream came from nearby and the hunters sped in its direction. Their hearts beat fast and their breaths quickened as their boots rapidly hit the street.

Dean and Riley stopped when they saw a blonde woman screaming for help with a man on top of her. He was growling, had massive claws, and his fangs were ready to feast.

Being quick at the draw, they both fired two shots each directly into the werewolf’s chest. He jolted at each bullet and then collapsed beside the woman as he began to cough up blood.

The blonde, scared and shaken, got up and ran off.

“You’re welcome!” Dean shouted.

Riley scurried over to the defeated creature knowing exactly who it was. It was Glen, Madison’s neighbor. She knew then why she felt that strange feeling coming from him before.

As she looked down at him, Riley crouched nearer as his eyes and teeth returned to their human state.

Blood poured from his mouth and his body shook in shock. “It happened...again,” Glen choked. “Where am I? H--help me. Oh, God. Oh my God.”

Closing her eyes, Riley went to touch his arm.

Dean blurted, “Rye, don’t.”

“It’s okay, Dean...he’s not gonna hurt me.” She focused all her energy and thought, “please, let me at least do this right.”

Riley reached into him and brought about thoughts of better times into his mind. Her abilities helped ease Glen’s moment of terror as flashes of childhood memories swam through him. There was a brief smile as he released his final breath.

That breeze of death that Riley had begun to expect blew through her as his soul left his body.

------

Madison awoke in the comfort of her bed. The morning birds sang as she opened her eyes and looked towards the doorway, there was Sam. The door had nearly been torn apart with claw marks leaving it completely destroyed.

“It should be over now.” Sam’s eyes flooded and he sniffled. “You’ll never see me again.”

She slowly got up and surveyed her bedroom. All the furniture and walls were ruined beyond recognition. Scratches and tears ripped through everything she owned.

As her eyes went back to find Sam, he was already gone.

------

“It’s sad actually,” Dean started as they all sat in the Impala outside Madison’s home. “Glen had no clue what was going on. Hey, why do you guys think he didn’t kill Madison? I mean, why turn her?”

Sam stared up at the house, still wishing he could go back inside. “I think he had a thing for her.”

There was a silence that fell in the car and Riley shifted to look at Sam who sat in the back seat. “Sam, what about Madison?”

“What about her?”

“Oh, come on. I know how you feel about her. I can feel it practically seeping out of you. With how strong these feelings are, hell, I miss her.”

“What do you want me to do, Rye? She thinks I’m a fucking lunatic.

Dean shrugged. “You saved her life, man.”

“She doesn’t know that.”

Madison appeared at the window beside them. “You know, for a stake-out, your car’s a little conspicuous. What are you still doing here?”

“Honestly?” Dean replied. “Uh--we’re pretty sure you’re not gonna turn tonight, but we’ve gotta be a hundred percent, so, you know, we’re...lurking.”

Riley gave Dean a look and slapped his arm. “You’ll have to excuse my boyfriend. His mouth tends to run away from him.”

“I know this sounds crazy,” Sam told her with hopeful eyes just happy to see her again.

“Sure does.” Madison paused with a sigh. “So, you were telling the truth weren’t you? About everything. You were just trying to protect me…”

Sam nodded softly. “Yeah.”

She wasn’t ready to let him go. Sam already meant more to her than Madison cared to admit. “Well, if we’re gonna wait it out...we might as well do it together.”

------

Just short of twenty-four hours later, the hunters had waited out the next long night. All four watched from the large window in front of the house as the sun rose over the horizon.

Madison had made it through the night without turning.

“Does--does this mean it worked?” Madison asked eagerly.

The tense muscles Sam had carried over the last two days finally relaxed as he looked at her. “Yeah. I think so.”

She sighed in relief, “oh my God. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Madison’s arms wrapped around Sam in a warm and grateful embrace.

Wanting to be recognized as well, Dean cleared his throat and she turned to face him with a smile.

“Yes, you too, Dean...and of course Riley. Thank you.”

“Aw, don’t mention it,” Dean told her as if her words weren’t necessary.

There was an awkward pause in the room and Riley could hear Sam’s thoughts. “God, are they ever going to leave? Jesus.”

Following immediately after was Madison’s. “They’re not gonna want to stay, right?”

Riley clapped her hands together. “So, Dean, I think it’s time you and I head back to the motel room.” She smirked and put an arm around his waist.

Dean’s arm dropped down over her shoulders and he shot her a playful look. “Oh, that is most definitely true. We’ll, uh--we’ll just leave you two kids to it.” As he and Riley walked towards the door, Dean pumped his fist up in the air as a signal to Sam before the couple disappeared behind the closing door.

“That was smooth,” Madison joked with a laugh.

Sam was mortified by his big brother. “He means well, but…”

“You mean, he thinks you’re gonna get laid.”

“Look, I--”

“Sam,” she said shaking her head. “It’s alright.”

“No. I know I scared the shit out of you, alright? I--I mean, I tied you to a chair.”

“That’s right up there with me scratching up your face.”

“There’s just no way...we could go back, you know? Before it happened.”

“You’re right. There’s just no way.”

The two stood in front of each other fighting every urge they had for the other. Sam’s heart beat hard in his chest as he stared into her brown eyes. wanting her more than anything.

Madison bit her bottom lip and after a moment, she surrendered and kissed him.

Immediately responding, Sam pushed her against the wall as they kissed passionately.

They stripped each other of their clothing and made their way to the bedroom, falling back onto the bed. The fireplace glowed through the room and danced on their skin as the couple went back and forth over who would pin down the other.

Sam kissed every part of her body in earnest and he bit at her neck and ear. Pulling her up and into his lap, Sam brought them together as they both moaned out in unison.

It was better than Sam had even imagined. They rocked together before he laid them down and continued to give himself to her as he groaned into her neck.

Throughout the day and into the night, Sam and Madison continued to make love again and again as they let go of all they had been holding back. Finally, they both fall asleep in each other’s arms, completely content.

------

The door to the motel room swung open and hit the wall as Dean and Riley came through, already kissing each other in hunger.

Dean kicked the door closed behind them, never breaking away from her. Both went to work quickly undressing the other as their lips clung together. Dean picked her up and held her tightly under her upper thigh as her legs wrapped around him. Carrying her over to the bed, he sat on the edge as Riley slowed them down and gazed deep into his eyes.

They drank each other in as she lowered herself onto his lap and Dean’s jaw went slack as he moaned deep from his chest.

Riley’s head fell back as she lost herself in everything he was and his mouth went to her exposed chest and neck.

After a few moments, Dean picked her up once again and flipped her onto the bed never releasing their bond. He grabbed the headboard and forced himself as far as he could as Riley moaned his name.

“Look at me…” he whispered through a grunt. Their eyes met again and they both shook with pleasure. “I love you.”

Panting, Riley fought to catch her breath. “I love you, Dean.”

------

The next morning, Riley and Dean laid together in bed, tangled in each other. Riley traced her fingers on his chest and he rubbed her back as the silent minutes passed peacefully.

“Dean,” Riley picked up her head and placed her chin onto his chest and he lovingly looked back at her. “I have to tell you something.”

“Okay…” He brushed her hair behind her ear.

Closing her eyes to gain her courage she took a deep breath. “The Demon. He came to me in my dreams.”

Dean’s eyes grew. “What? When did that happen?”

“Actually...it happens almost every night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? What does he say?”

“That I’m special and I’m not like the rest.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Dean, he said he’s coming for me.”

Dean quickly sat up to lean against the headboard and pulled her up with him before holding her chin in place for their eyes to lock. “I won’t let that happen. Do you hear me? I’m gonna keep you safe.”

“Dean...what if you can’t? What if Sam was right? Maybe this is our destiny.”

“No.” Dean’s voice was stern and adamant. “You and Sam? You’re all that matters to me. There is nothing and no one that will ever take either of you away from me. I will burn the world to the ground before I let you go.” His hands found both sides of her face as he kissed her hard and fervently. “If you’re in this with me, Rye...then it’s till the end.”

Riley’s hand sat on top of his as it cupped her cheek and she sniffled back her tears. “...till the end,” she whispered. She looked towards the door and her brow furrowed as she focused on a feeling nearby. “Sam…?”

There was a loud bang at the door and Dean grabbed a sheet to cover himself as he went to answer. The banging continued relentlessly. “I’m coming!” he yelled.

When he opened the door, there stood Sam, completely breathless and panicked. “She--she turned.”

“What?!”

“I couldn’t grab her in time. She’s out there somewhere.”

“We’ll find her, Sammy,” Dean offered in comfort. He turned around to run back inside for his clothes while Riley was already half-dressed and hurrying to go.

------

Sam, Dean, and Riley all hurried down the stairs from the China Sea Motel. The cold wind blew through them and Riley’s hair flew slightly behind her.

“I already called Bobby,” Sam started. “He doesn’t know anything. Well, except he knew that severing bloodlines doesn’t work. All our connections agree with him too. It’s completely impossible to reverse.”

Riley shook her head. “But it doesn’t make any sense. Why didn’t she turn during the night when we were all with her?”

“There’s gotta be a way to help her--some legend or something with answers.”

“If there was, don’t you think someone we know would have known it?” Dean asked.

“Well, we just have to look harder until we fucking find something!”

Dean put his hand out and stopped Sam so he could look him in the eye. “Sam, I don’t think we got a choice here anymore. I mean, she’s a sweet girl and I hate to say it, but part of her is--”

“Evil?!” Sam interjected. “Yeah, that’s what they say about me, Dean! And Riley! So, us you won’t kill, but her you’re just gonna blow away?”

Sam’s phone rang and he answered with a scoff still frustrated with Dean. He didn’t get a word in before someone spoke through the line. “Madison…? Where are you?” he questioned in a panic.

His brother and sister both looked at him, anxiously awaiting answers.

“Okay, Maddie, stay there. We’re coming to get you.”

------

The hunters sat at Madison’s dining room table with her and listened to her tell her story of the night before. Sam’s eyes refused to leave her face as he felt a swell of emotions for her.

Riley had to close her eyes and focus to keep his pain from consuming her along with Madison’s own fear and guilt.

The gun that sat on the table felt like a dark cloud that hung over them all.

“I don’t remember anything,” Madison recounted to the others. “I probably killed someone last night. Didn’t I?”

“I don’t think there’s any way to know that yet,” Riley replied in a soothing voice.

“Is there something else we can try to make it go away?”

Sam refused to give up on her. There had to be a way. “We’ll find something. I mean, there’s gotta be some answer--somewhere.”

Interrupting, Dean looked at the scared woman and shook his head. “That’s not entirely true. Madison, you deserve to know. We’ve scoured every source. There’s just no cure.”

She turned to Sam in desperation. “Is--is he right?”

The young Winchester’s jaw clenched and he felt he would explode in pain as he stood and turned away. A lump in his throat grew so large he could hardly swallow.

“Well, we could lock you up at night,” Dean offered hesitantly. “But...you bust out, and some night you will, someone else dies. I’m sorry. I am.”

Madison began to cry and exhaled heavily. “So, I guess that’s all there is to it, then.”

Shocked at her response, Sam spun around to look at her. “Stop it,” he told her. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Sam, I don’t want to hurt anyone else.” Her voice broken as her gaze met his. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” Madison picked up the gun and walked over to Sam.

“Put that down.”

“I can’t do it myself.” She handed him the gun and swallowed hard. “I need your help.”

“Madison, no.”

“Sam...I’m a monster.”

Sam’s breaths grew harder and harder to catch as their conversation went on. “You don’t have to be. We can find a way, alright? I can. I’m gonna save you.”

Crying even harder, she pleaded with the hunter. “You tried. I know you tried. But this is all there is left. Help me, Sam. I want you to do it. I want it to be you.”

“I can’t,” he said firmly.

Tears streamed down Madison’s face and rolled down her neck. “I don’t wanna die. But I can’t live like this. This is the way you can save me. Please. I’m asking you to save me.”

Sam shook his head, unable to find any more words.

Riley had a tear falling down her face as she touched Dean’s shoulder. “You have to help him. He can’t do this, Dean. It’ll kill him.”

Dean looked to her and acknowledged the thought as he got up slowly and moved closer to the couple. He delicately took the gun from Madison’s hand and Sam walked to the kitchen.

She stood in the spot where he left her as Riley and Dean followed Sam into the other room.

Sam’s lips and jaw trembled as he choked back his tears. His partners silently entered and walked over to him.

“Sam,” Dean said behind him gently. “I’m sorry.”

With tears filling his eyes, Sam turned around to look at them and his face quickly grew wet as his heart broke to pieces. “No, you’re right. She’s right.”

“Sammy, I got this one. I’ll do it.”

“She asked me to.”

Riley tried so hard not to cry and be strong for Sam. But, the pain that broke through him hit her chest so hard it took the wind out of her. His suffering was so immense and she couldn’t fix it.

Trying to bring him comfort wouldn’t help, telling Sam it was going to be okay wouldn’t do anything. Riley’s tears fell as she reached for his arm. “You don’t have to do this, Sammy.”

Sam sobbed. “Yes, I do. Please.” He held out his hand with tears streaming down his face, waiting for the gun.

Dean finally obliged and placed it in his brother’s shaking hand.

“Just wait here.” As Sam went to the doorway, he glanced back at Riley and Dean, his face soaking wet and his chest rising and falling rapidly. He then turned and slowly stepped back into the living room.

With Sam out of the room, Riley lost control of her abilities. Sam’s emotions were too strong and they overwhelmed her in a way she had never felt from someone else before.

Riley’s knees buckled and Dean caught her as she wept. “I--I can’t…” she uttered through her tears. “It hurts so much. Sam--he…it hurts, Dean…”

Wrapping his arms around her, Dean held her tight against his chest. He kissed her head as a tear ran down his own cheek. “Focus on me. Stay here with me.”

Riley tried to listen to Dean’s heartbeat and drown out the agony in the air, but it was useless. The sound of a single gunshot went off and the two flinched. Not able to fight it anymore, Riley went nearly limp in Dean’s chest and wailed silently into him.

Her brother’s heartbreak was her own as the wind was knocked from her chest. It felt as though she was dying, like she would never fully breathe again. It was pure and unimaginable suffering that she couldn’t shut out. If that was what he was feeling, how could Sam ever come back from this?

Sam swore he would save Madison, only in the end, he couldn’t.

Dean’s promise echoed through Riley’s mind in that deafening silence. Maybe her fate would be the same, her light snuffed out by the man she cared for most; a tragic love story to which there would be no happy ending, only darkness and death.

------

S2 Chapter 11: What is and What Should Never Be

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yunasightx · 6 years

Text

Names and Puzzle Pieces( aka , give me the Mcmercy fam fluff!))

(Behold this monster that has literally been sitting on my flash drive for a over a year and a half. I have no excuse for this fic besides the fact that I’m a sucker for wholesome expecting family fluff— and that goes double for this pair. Literally.)

Disclaimer:

As I stated before, this fic has been sitting around for a while .. so I really did not go through it with an ultra fine tooth comb (( and is also the reason why there are some characters, like Moria, who are not mentioned even though they have a strong relation to members of the original Overwatch--- especially in regards to Mercy and Mccree’s past. They simply were not around at the time when I wrote the bulk of this. I added Brigitte in last minute though , because it was a bit easier to mention her....and i may also ship her with a certain rocket-jump gal ))I did try my best, but I really just wanted to get it over with. So, apologies for Iand grammar issues. I may go back to edit later if I see anything insanely obvious.

In the meantime, happy reading and enjoy! ))

Tornborjn,

I just looked over the schematics you sent me. So far, the upgrade looks promising – but I’m a little concerned about stress the additional weight and momentum might put on the joints in Fig 4. Reinhart is not as young as he use to be ( despite what he might boast about) , and while an extra booster might help the Crusader Suit have a little bit more of the “OOMPH” the two of you are looking for …. Osteoporosis is not just something that is exclusive to women. Which reminds me…. I believe you are overdue for your yearly physical as well, Bärchen <3.

Angela

Ps. I highlighted the issues I think need a second glance. Maybe we can get lunch next Tuesday to look them over? I have been craving grilled fish and sriracha something terrible lately.

Angela read over the email one last time, checking for the usual typos and general grammatical errors, before hitting the send button. The email blipped out of existence from her computer screen leaving only the default Overwatch logo quietly staring back at her.

The doctor leaned back in her chair with a content sigh, “Well, one thing down…. Several more to go.” She had spent the whole morning cleaning out her (what always appeared to be) constantly full inbox; replying to and sending out correspondences to anyone and everyone who had questions and concerns for the Head Doctor of the reinstated global peacekeeping organization. Angela supposed she could have been fielding most of them off to an intern, or even asked Athena for assistance, but she liked being proactive in things ---- and truth was… she needed SOMETHING to do for the next couple of months.

Angela glanced over to her Valkyrie Suit which stood like marble statue between the two pristine white and glass shelves behind her desk while her hand came up to rest on her still- rounding stomach. The lighting of the room gave the enameled white coating a soft iridescent glow and illuminated rest of the black, orange and gold details. The sight of it rising over the back of her chair, even with the wings powered off, as someone walked into her pristine office was something that she knew bordered on spiritual

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss the adrenaline, the rush, and energy of being on the field ,or being actively involved in something ; but while the she would always be incredibly proud of her first child ---- at the moment she now had other lives she had to care for first.

And she knew the others were in good hands; Lucio and Zenyatta were newer to the life style of being a Overwatch Field medic , but so far they had shown enough promise that most of Mercy’s fears had been eased. And dear darling Brigitte had taken the helm of that group in stride after dealing with patching up Reinhardt for years. They often came to her for advice, and she was very happy with how far all of them had come since joining Overwatch.

Angela actually had the sneaking suppression that donning the Valkyrie suit for so long was the reason why her pregnancy had been going so smoothly —for the most part— in the first place . The results weren’t completely definitive, but it seems wearing and handling experimental bio- nanotechnology over a long period of time had had some unforeseen side effects. One of which being what basically boiled down to slowing down the aging of Angela’s cells. It wasn’t much, just a under a decade in difference to her chronological age—-she would still age, she just wouldn’t have to worry about things like grey hair , wrinkles , mammograms, and arthritis as soon as everyone else.

Ana had joked the she should retire and just sell her product to a home-shopping network as the newest “anti-aging skin care line” --- then buy a nice little vacation home in Hawaii for her , McCree and the little ones ( with an extra guest house for their favorite “Nana”, of course).

But, Mercy knew that at nearly Thirty-Nine years of age she should have expected a myriad of complications with getting pregnant, at least naturally ---- especially with both her and McCree starting to push forty. So, when it had happened after their first try… it had come as a bit of shock. She and Jesse had talked about the possibility of children, the idea of growing their family just a little, but they had still had gone into the whole thing with a mindset of “if it happens, it happens”.

And when they discovered it they would be having twins….

Well, Mercy made a note to add gynecology and fertility research to her ever growing list. After she had to pick McCree off the floor that is.

But, aside from three and a half months of nightmarish morning sickness and the never ending whiplash of weird cravings, everything had been progressing surprisingly well.

Well… almost everything.

Angela’s thoughts broke off when she felt what was quickly becoming familiar fluttering of movement pushing against the palm of her hand. She laughed and lightly rubbed her fingers over the spot, “I guess nap time is over , hmm?” She hummed. She felt another little persistent nudge and sighed, “Right..... back to work!”

Angela braced her hands against the armrests and pushed away from her desk, before awkwardly hauling herself back to her feet; grunting as her center of gravity and new constantly-changing weight shifted back to her pelvis as her very round stomach curved out in front of her and her lower back arched in.

Angela knew she was surprising large, even with twins. She looked more like she was nearing the tail end of her third trimester with one child, rather than twenty weeks with two.

She had given up trying to button her lab coat and pants weeks ago, and forgot the last time she had been actually able to see her feet (were her toes still painted sky blue? Or was it lilac? Rustic orange ? The world will never know. ) Now, she just opted for breathable tunic dresses and a nice pair of stretchy leggings with her favorite pair of flats ——and when she was home, she all put lived in Jesse’s flannel shirts ( but, she had the feeling even they wouldn’t fit for much longer either at this rate..)

She thought about the closet of cute, but sensible new maternity wear Ana , Lena, Brigitte and Pharah had eagerly helped her shop for just a few weeks ago (with the former captain letting Mercy know she should be very thankful she didn’t have to be stuck with horrible fashion styles that were around when she was having Pharah… or the lack there of). She felt a bit guilty that she was growing out of them so quickly.

Then again….. technically the twins were farther along than twenty weeks. At least, from a gestational stand point.

That was other thing . The other unforeseen side effect of donning her Valkyrie suite for so long and so often. Besides slowing down her ownaging, somehow the twins were growing at a slightly accelerated rate. Not insanely or supernaturally fast, but every test her and Winston had run had proven they were consistently three weeks ahead of any normal development.

Mercy had gone back and doubled, even tripled checked her math, but it was hard to mistake the night that led to all of this. It was enough of an oddity that even though there had been no other complications, both of them agreed to err on the side of caution and treat her as a usual High-risk case and closely monitor her and the babies’ progress.

Angela huffed and braced one hand against her lower back as the other started rubbing circles along her upper right side, hoping to dislodge whoever decided to jam themselves between her spleen and ribcage. She waddled over to her stainless steel work station by the large glass wall that ran the length of the room and looked out into the hallway between her and the panoramic windows that viewed the deep shimmering blue waters of the Alboran Sea. She picked up the tablet she had left there and pulled up her own medical file, along with half- a- screen’s worth of notifications of upcoming appointments and tests. The lab results from her latest round of blood tests had just come in; most of her levels were fine, except her iron levels which were a tad little low (Angela rolled her eyes at that. Of course, Jesse’s spawn would be as obsessed with red meat as their father.)

She quickly scrolled through the rest of the results, then sent them and the reminded of her next ultrasound away with a flick of her fingers before pulling up several medical files and the list of Overwatch agents who she still had to hound down for the yearly physical. Thankfully, a majority of the list was already highlighted in bright blue, but there were still a handful of names in red ---and most of those she didn’t even need to look at to know who was dragging their feet to the medical wing.

Let’s see…..Genji came in for his exam Monday, so he’s done. Hanzo was on time, as always. Lena is tomorrow—I’ll need to remind Winston about that. Mercy tapped Tracer’s name and informed Athena to let her fellow scientist know about his needed assistance.

“Shall I also remind Winston that it is time for his exam as well, Dr. Ziegler?” The AI suggested helpfully.

Mercy laughed, “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll just recruit Lena to help me hold him down, you know how he can be.”

The AI let out a slightly computerized sigh, “Unfortunately, all too well I’m afraid.”

I will probably have to drag Torbjorn here myself after lunch next week …And I will probably have to ask Ana , Pharah, and Brigette to help with Reinhart, The doctor sighed as she turned back to her list, her fingers briefly hovering over the names that were blocked out in black---- the white lettering spelling out the identities as sharp and finite as a row of marble headstones on a dark lawn. The files had been pulled over with the rest when Athena had backed up the old medical records from the original Overwatch.

Gerard Lacroix --- Deceased

Jack Morrison --- Deceased

Gabriel Reyes --- Deceased

Ana’s name had also recently been shrouded in the mournful color, but she had given her blessing to correct the outdated file. Her active status was now in the same bright cobalt blue as her daughter’s name near the top --- although, she had objected to also having her “Captain” title receiving the same treatment.

“I’m retired now, malak. These old bones aren’t fit to keep babysitting you brats all the time. Just leave me in the back with the rest of the old timers, and we’ll bail you kids out when you’ve finished having your fun.”

“76” on the other hand refused to go by any other name---- no matter how hard Angela or the others tried to convince him to reconsider, the old solider stubbornly refused to budge.

“The commander of Overwatch died at the Swiss base. If you want him, you can find him six feet under his tombstone in Arlington.”

As for the last two names….. well… despite their best advancements and research even science couldn’t truly bring back the dead.

And even then……….. Angela was not sure she would ever cross that line. She had toed it with Genji, even the very reasoning behind her own nanotechnology research flirted with that perilous edge …

But sometimes, the line between Man and God was drawn for a reason, and the price that asked was just too much to handle. You could make life, mend it, repair it if need be ----but you could not return light to a candle that no longer had a wick to burn.

Enough of that, Ziegler. Angela shook her head to clear her thoughts, and leave the past where it was supposed to be. She scrolled through the rest of the names until she came to one very familiar name that she wasn’t surprised was still in red.

“What am I going to do with him?” Angela sighed and tapped opened the file, so focused that she missed the metallic jingle of spurs and confident clomp cowboy boots sneaking up behind her.

“Boo.”

Angela jumped in surprise when two arms grabbed her from behind and that mischievous, honey-whiskey -warm voice smirked against the back of her ear. She shot a pointed look over her shoulder ( which lacked any real bite), but Jesse just greeted her with one of his charming smiles---- completely unapologetic as he leaned down and placed a kiss on the back of her shoulder as both of his hands drifted down to the sides of her stomach.

“How’re y’all doin’?”

Angela could feel his warm chuckle and smile against her skin when he felt one of the twins jab at the underside of his human palm, “Well, that one definitely takes after me. Not even out yet, and already tryin’ to start a fight.”

Angela rolled her eyes, but there was smile on her face as she turned her head and kissed his cheek. He had trimmed his beard a little bit from the wild bush he had during his vigilante days, and his hair was back to the style he had it during the prime of his days in Blackwatch . It was still unkempt and disheveled as ever, but Angela has always liked that length on him. And Jesse said he finally got sick having it stick to the back of his neck in the blistering heat and finding beard hairs in his whiskey.

“Did you just get back?” She could still smell the salt, sea spray, and limestone of Ilios on him, along with a bit of gunpowder and a little bit of nicotine. Jesse had reluctantly agreed to cut back on the smoking when they decided to try to start a family (only because she had threatened that he would have to bunk with Genji , Hanzo and Zenyatta for the next eighteen years if he so much as thought about lighting up around her or the children) , but when he was out on assignment he still smoked at a cigar or two. Mercy was at least grateful he wasn’t smoking a pack a day anymore.

He had cut back on drinking too. Genji had mostly been the one to thank for that----he and Zenyatta had been helping Jesse slowly deal with his demons over the last year and a half. For the youngest Shamada, it was the least he could do for his former Blackwatch brother and very dear friend, and the two now had a bond that went deeper than just former coworkers.

It was nice to see both of them smile so easily again.

Eventually, the two of them ganged up on her; and while she originally dug in her heels and refused to acknowledge the parts of her that she shoved and locked away in deep into the shadows, far away from anyone else (her failures, her regrets , guilt and blame and what ifs) ……it didn’t take a neuro scientist to know that something besides her work or adjustments to her suit was keeping her awake all night. And her heart was so much lighter for it.

“Just docked”,Jesse pressed another kiss against her shoulder before lifting his head a bit and resting his chin there with a deep content hum, “Figured I’d hide out here for a bit before having to face the paperwork.” He wrapped his arms under her stomach to pull her into his warmth, “Don’t think I’ll be able to keep doing this for much longer. What are ya feedin’ these kids ,Angie?”

Angela smacked his arm ,”Burgers and sriracha. And I wonder who I can thank for that.”

“Hey, don’t pick on me. I remember those paper bags you tried hiding under your desk,’ Miss McDonalds’.”

“It was Wendy’s.” Angela said automatically, not even phased about Jesse calling her out on her old guilty pleasure.

“Yeaaaaaaaahh,” Jesse drawled out with a lazy smirk that she could feel curl against her neck , “ but you’re gonna be stuck with a bunch ol McCrees so I figured it was more fitting.”

“Who said they were going to be “McCrees”?”

Angela had to bite down on her tongue from laughing as the charming “I’m winning this round” smirk slipped right off the gunslinger’s face.

“That ain’t very nice, Angel. Don’t be mean.”

“I am not being mean,” Angela had to try very to keep her voice clinical and matter-of-fact , instead of breaking out into the giggles that tickled in her throat. She knew it wasn’t nice to tease him like this, but it was cute when he pouted. “Technically, we are not married so—“

“And you told me you didn’t want that right now,” Jesse pulled away, and Angela knew instantly that she went too far. Frustration mixed with the jet lag and three sleepless nights of clearing out stubborn Talon agents from Greek ruins that lined the cowboy’s shoulders, giving him a wounded look that was worse than any bullet to her heart.

She knew without asking what his plan had been the moment he stepped on to the helipad---- a nice cold drink, kick off those dumb boots, and to spend the rest of a quite afternoon with the woman and mother of his children who had basically stolen his heart almost twenty-two years ago.

“ I offered it to you, but you said it wasn’t necessary. That is just a dumb piece of pa----“

Angela swallowed the rest of his argument by reaching out and pulling his head down to kiss him sweetly, putting a cooling balm on his temper. He seemed to have gotten the message because his shoulders instantly relaxed under her hands as his went to her widened hips and he shook his head with a gravely sigh, “I really don’t like how easily you can get under my skin like that sometimes, woman.”

She shook her head and gave him another kiss before pulling back and reaching up to apologetically smooth back his hair, pushing back a laugh when he tried to puller closer but her stomach got in the way, “ No, that was a terrible attempt of a joke. I shouldn’t have said it.”

Jesse had always been the more emotional one between them; the sentimental, passionate, and sweet parts of their relationship --- a simmering slow southern day outside of Sante Fe. Even after all these years, she still had trouble accepting that when Jesse McCree loved you he did it absolutely, openly, and without holding anything back----it was all or nothing for him.

When she thought back on it, Angela realized she never stood a chance.

For Jesse, a ring and wedding was more than just a tradition. It wasn’t a claim on her, or a way “to keep her an honorable woman” and their children from being born under questionable circumstances or the hundreds of other reasons people have married for over the thousands and thousands of years of human history.

It was a promise. One of the most important ones he could ever give, besides his oath to Reyes and Amari when they offered him a rank in Overwatch ----a chance to do something worthwhile and good.

Angela just didn’t know if she was worthy of that promise just yet.

She still had moments where she worried if she could do this. If they could really could do this. That whisp of doubt that had spread and thrived in the shadow of the ruins and rubble of the old Overwatch. In the shadow of her every regret and helplessness and weakness when everything she held dear crumbled right through her fingers. The one thing she could never heal and fix.

Those names flickered in her mind again.

....The names of those she failed to support.

But, she was more than willing to try.

As silly, confounding, confusing, reckless, and dramatic as her cowboy was ----she never really thought the idea of spending the rest of her life question her sanity around him sounded bad. Even back before the old Swiss base had been nothing but a pile of bitter-sweet memories, secrets, and rubble. Before they had answered Winston’s recall……and then decided to try to pick up the pieces each of them had been carefully tucking away during the years in between.

They weren’t puzzle pieces that fit together, but------

“ I think McCree is a lovely name,” Angela hummed as she pressed her lips to his cheek, just along the curve of the dark circles under his right eye, “ I also think you should have gotten more sleep. No offense, Jesse, but you look dead on your feet. And I am the doctor who is pregnant with twins.”

The cowboy gave a resigned sigh and sank down into a nearby chair, pulling her with him and across his lap since his arms had tried to find their way around her waist again. She placed her tablet down on the counter and shifted to make herself more comfortable, placing her hands over his as they followed the faint movements of the twins hands, knees, elbows, and etc pressing against her sides. “Just give this old cowboy a few minutes, Ange. I missed you somethin’ fierce out there,” He muttered against her skin as he rested his forehead against her shoulder again.

“You really should be taking better care of yourself.”

The gunslinger gave a soft chuckle at the old scolding that had lost its intentional bite years ago, “Acknowledged”.

Angela knew Jesse had a terrible time sleeping when he was away on assignment these days; which was more than unusual because she couldn’t think of a place at the Swiss base where someone had not seen him napping with his hat over his face and his boots probed up on a random surface. It would not have be long before said hat was slapped off, and he was dragged off by his ear for laps by a very grumbly Gabriel Reyes to burn off all that extra energy he had obviously been storing up.

“And just what are you smiling about?”

Mercy came out of the past, and shook her head at Jesse who was watching her with an amused smile before she settled against his him with her head on his shoulder, “ Nothing, just some silly memories. I can prescribe you some minor sleep aids if you think that would help.”

The main reason for Jesse restlessness out on the field was because when his mind didn’t have to be focused on a gunfight, it was right back here with her and the twins. It wasn’t so bad in the beginning, but as her pregnancy progressed the little fear of something happening when he might be several time zones away kept knawing itself a nice little home at the back of his mind---- like a mouse chewing its way through a baseboard.

Nightly phone calls and face -time sessions helped reassure him that Talon had not attacked the base, Hana had not accidentally shut down the entire power grid by rigging up a super computer for gaming, and Winston did not turn her or the children into a tubs of peanut butter ( “………have you been drinking with Winhelm and Torbjorn again?” “……No, but I did have some kind of weird Japanese fish dish Genji made.” )

Even then ,Hanzo had taken up Mercy’s position of McCree’s common sense out on the field --- taking away the gunslinger’s phone so the bright LED screen didn’t give away their position when he kept checking in every five minutes as bullets whizzed by their heads.

Jesse gave a tired sigh as he raised his head and rest his chin on the crown of her head as he drew in closer, “I’ll be fine. I just need you and our bed , and maybe a hot toddy to dull the edge. I’m home now, that’s all that matters.”

Home. After how many years that word did hurt to think about anymore.

The two of them stayed like that for a while. Forgetting about emails and exams and desks full of paperwork, and just trying to enjoy this moment of absolute suspended moment of peace like a sip of Angela’s homemade hot chocolate or Jesses favorite aged whiskey.

If she closed her eyes she could almost smell the air of the Swiss alpines again, feel concrete lightly bite the backs of her thighs and the warm weight of a young gunslinger’s arm and serape around her shoulders as her knees dangled over the side of roof while she and Jesse watched the sun rise over the base. Watching as the light and sky started out deep and rich and slowly turned golden, blinding and bright.

Almost….. if it weren’t the constant movement jostling her insides.

“They don’t like keeping still, do they?”, Jesse grinned, his hands were tracking them across her stomach again, eagerly moving from her sides and resting just below her navel now. He looked down at her, eyes lined with jet lagged and some residual signs of his drinking and smoking lifestyle--- but still the same soft and lively molten brown she first seen at seventeen.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Angela tilted her head up and teasingly nipped the tip of his nose.

“ Hmmm….. How long are you goin’ to be cooped up in here? I was thinking you, me, some nice seared steak and pasta, and ---“

“If you even think about mentioning another one of your western movies again, Jesse, I am just going stay here and sleep in one of the med bay beds tonight.”

“…….Well, now who’s jumping the gun? I was goin’ to suggest that one old timey pirate movie Ana use to play all the time during break nights.”

“…….I’m sure you were, cowboy.”

Jesse held his hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright. You get to pick the movie tonight. Just don’t make it one of those boring educational flicks again. I’d like to be able stay awake with you tonight.”

“You liked the last few I’ve selected,” Angela pointed out, rubbing at her side to calm down whichever twin was unhappy bout suddenly being ignored.

“Yeah, well one of those was about those murders in Victorian London. Of course that’s going to keep my interest. But seriously Angie, as much as I want to know about what’s going on with you and the kids, “ The Gestational Process and Bonding of the Human Species ; From Conception to Birth And Beyond” isn’t exactly what I would call a “date night movie”.”

“……That is a fair point,” Angela relented, “ I just thought you would like it since you have pretty much checked out every single book we have about pregnancy in the library, and have hounded Ana,Torbjorn, Winston and I with questions. You even had Hanzo buy them for you in town.”

She watched as her cowboy turned a nice shade of pink under his beard, “ ….You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

“Jesse….” Angela chucked endearingly as she brushed his hair out of his eyes, “ Libeling, it’s been kind of hard not to. But, it is sweet ----- a bit annoying sometimes, but it’s been a pleasant surprise.”

Jesse looked down at his hands, which had gone back to her middle, gently circling his thumb over the back of her hands. His voice was soft, almost unsure, like he was slowly trying to figure out an new language and did not want to mince up the words “ …..I’m just a fish out of water with all of this. I never thought I would ever have a shot at something like this. That it wasn’t in the cards for me with the shit show our lives became after everything. But, God, did I want …… I don’t deserve an inch of you ,Ange. I sure didn’t back then and I’m not sure I do----“

Angela kissed him before the raw emotion leaking into his voice broke both of them in two. It was safe to say this was uncharted territory for both of them; two orphans who only had faded fragments of their own parents and a mismatch patchwork quilt they called family that had been made, ripped and repaired over the years as a reference.

There were a thousand things she wanted to tell him right then, but she would save that for when they were not surrounded by the cold, sterile, and professional environment of the med bay and her office. She wanted to be wrapped up in one of his flannel shirts and his arms first.

“I do have something for you,” She reached for her tablet and pulled up the file she had been saving for when he got back.

Jesse groaned the second end moved her arm, “ Angel…look, I know I’m due for that blasted checkup, but do you really—“

“You can relax, it’s not your physical. ..Yet. I will be getting you for that later,” Angela handed him the tablet and watched as one of his eye brows raised at the sight of her name and date of birth at the top of the page. She offered him a sheepish smile, “ I know you wanted to be there, but I’m afraid Winston got the dates mixed up. No one else knows about it yet…..but I thought it would be a nice surprise for you when you got back.”

She could barely hide her excitement as his eyes flitted down past all the medical information and jargon the he did not understand, and landed on the one part of the report that was impossible to mistake. She had to bite down on the corner of her lip to keep from beaming at him when his brown eyes went wide and looked between her, the tablet and back again. It was one of the few time she had seen the bombastic cowboy struck speechless, “ …Both?”

Angela nodded, finally letting herself smile,“ Both. One of each. I guess that means we’re done after this.”

But,Jesse seemed to have missed her joke as he quickly set the tablet back down and demanded to know which twin was where. Angela laughed as she guided the one hand to where their son was trying to cozy up to her ribs again, and the other to where their daughter has kicked his hand earlier. “ They do move , but I think that’s where they are for the most part, “ Angela titled her head as she took in the suddenly serious look crossing on Jesse’s face that he only got when he was trying to whip a strategy during a mission , “Is something the matter, Libeling?”

“….. Figuring out how much I’m gonna have to stock up on ammo for when they get older. Maybe finally talk Torb into installing that finger gu-”

“Jesse Leon McCree!” Angela’s glare cut through his thought faster than one of her laser- guided scalpels, “For the last time, I am not installing finger guns into your prosthetic!”

“I didn’t say you, now did I?”

“ Torbjorn won’t do it either. I already warned him I would revoke his honorary grandfather card if I ever caught him with schematics.”

“ Awwwww, come on! That ain’t fair, Angel!” Jesse whined. “ How else am I supposed to scare idots away from little Annie when she gets older?”

“Are you thrity-nine or nine…? And I am sure you will come up with something. Also, we are not naming out children after wild- west outlaws.”

“…Dam.. I was sittin’ on that one for a while,” Jesse looked at her again, “ What about-“

“No.”

Jesse jutted out his lower lip and looked at her with those big puppy gold-brown eyes that had been bane of her existence for the last twenty- something years. ….But, she would be lying to herself if said she wasn’t at least a little bit happy that genetics promised that there was a very good chance at their children would have his eyes as well.

“Fineeeeeeeee,” Jesse sighed when he realized he wasn’t going to win their little stalemate, although there is more than a hint of a whine to it, “What about “Fenrir” for the boy then? That’s something you’ve always liked.”

“Oh mein got!” Angela rolled her eyes, “Out of all the Norse myths I have told you, of course that’s the one you remember.”

“What? We could call him “Fen”,” Jesse pointed out innocently.

“You do remember that Loki is the one who gave birth to him, don’t you?”, Angela pointed out with a sigh, “ Only you would want to name your son after the eater of the world and killer of Odin? How about “Tyr”?” She tapped her finger nail against the scared- up skull engraved into the metal plating of his bionic arm. “The god of Justice. That seems a bit more fitting. “

Jesse watched her hand with a little smirk as he leaned his head against her shoulder again. They might have been playfully arguing about names, but she had never seen him look so content. The look in his expression said it all… ….he held his entire world in his arms. “Eh, it’s not as cool. Any kid of ours is going to be hell –in- a- hand basket and an angel all-in-one, they need a name goes with it.”

“I think it’s just in your nature to -- how do you Americans say it----“ Go Big or Go Home”?” Angela laughed as Jesse gently, but playfully pulled her closer against his chest, his hands resting on her hip as his lips grinned against her forehead and his beard tickling between her eyes

“Yep ,sounds like me. I’ve always dreamed big---- how else could I have gotten as lucky to end up with someone like you? You don’t get chosen by an angel just by waiting around and twiddling your thumbs.”

Angela rolled her eyes as she shifted in the cowboy’s lap as their daughter let her know she didn’t like being squished between them by trying to kick elbow her pancreas. Jesse’s hands instantly went to the spot and circled his fingers to apologize.

They were going to be fine.

“Well…..I do have one name in mind… ,”Angela hesitated. She wasn’t quite sure how Jesse would react to her suggestion. She still didn’t know how she completely felt about it.

It had started as a little idea that had just popped up in the back of her mind the moment the blood tests had confirmed everything, like one of the single little cells their children had started out as. At first, she just shook it off as an impossible notion, just the increasing hormones her body being annoying ; but like Jesse, it just hunkered down and refused to budged until she begrudgingly paid attention to it.

It was name that had weight to it, memories and heartbreak. But, she knew it was a name that meant a lot to Jesse… and even herself and many others in their little rag tag family. And the more she had thought about it, each week the name just sounded a little more right. Her mind went back to the list of names of those she had failed to save.

You could not return life to can candle that no longer had a wick , but the scent of the wax would always linger.

“Gabriel.”

She carefully watched his face as her stomach squirmed in a way that had nothing to do with her tumbling twins or morning sickness. It only took a few moments, but it felt life time as she watched the confusion on his face melt into surprise then something so soft and speechless that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to smile or cry herself.

For now she would blame it on the hormones.

“I like it, Darlin’,” His voice was soft, like a warm camp-fire on a cool night as he reached up and tucked her side swept bang behind her ear. “ … Thank you.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand as his callused and tanned finger s trailed over her cheek, still the same as they had always been despite all the years. They still felt like home.

“There is nothing to thank me for, Liebling. “

“…. I still want Fen as a first name though.”

Angela gave a heavy sigh, Andddddddd there went the moment,“ Do not make me kick you out of my office .“

Jesse just gave her another smug and charming smirk that made his right eye twinkle, “Gotta come up with a better bluff than that, Sugarbee. I’m your favorite pillow.”

“Well, since you are here ,Darlin..” She drawled a little too innocently , “ I do have a long list of overdue shots with your name on it.”

The cowboy blanched and Angela just gave him his smirk right back before breaking down into a smile and leaning forward to kiss him as he huffed against her mouth and pulled her as close as her stomach would allow. “ Woman, I swear there is devil in those angel eyes sometimes.”

No, they were not puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together --- there were too many broken edges that had been worn and dented over the years. They were more like pieces of a shattered glass that had been put together into a mosaic. Something that was a little old and new at the same time , fractured and whole… and made something wonderful and beautiful when the light shone through.

#mcmercy #fanfiction #Overwatch #look mah i write too!#jesse mccree #overwatch mercy #mccree #angela ziegler #family fluff #oc kids

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