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#man i was so proud of finishing before noon and she was just like. gonna go start your next assignment? man fuck you i literally have it

asthevermincrawls · 2 years

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had about 4 days of finally establishing a good work schedule and finally feeling like real responsible adult only for my mom to make me second guess everything with one backhanded comment 🙃

#dnt rb obvs #im probably just being dramatic but ugh it feels so frustrating i was finally proud of my work #is it lazy to only want to do one required assignment in the morning and then spend the rest of the day how i want?#man i was so proud of finishing before noon and she was just like. gonna go start your next assignment? man fuck you i literally have it #planned so i only have to do one a day. ok maybe i should do the extra assignments. but I don't need to!!!!#ugh #i love her but sometimes it feels like ill never meet her standards #a.txt

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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years

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Daring - Chapter 2

This is part two of my Abby Mordern!Au, you can read Chapter 1 here.

Masterlist

Abby and the reader have dinner at Abby's place. There is music playing and referenced, so I'd recommend you listen to this playlist with all the songs playing in order as soon as the date night begins. About 10k words.

CW for alcohol consumption, mention of death/murder, mention of dubious consent (and possibly terrible grammar. It's 10pm, I just finished this, I don't have a proofreader atm)

Thyme and Tree Bark

“Don’t mess this up, airhead. Take care!”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, idiot!”

You closed the door behind Mark as he vanished down the stairs and headed straight for your bed. Though you were less wobbly on your feet after devouring half of a perfectly cheesy pizza with just the right amount of jalapenos, it had thrown you straight into a food coma. Your angel of a brother had come over at noon with two chilled cans of coke and a large pizza from your favorite Italian place and not even ripped open the curtains as he usually did. Instead, he had thrown himself on the bed right next to you, handed you a slice, and demanded you start talking.

Of course, he already knew about Abby and your embarrassing shyness when it came to the buff blonde, so he was extremely proud of the progress you had made with your excruciating crush. You both agreed that Abby had definitely invited you over for a date this week - alone, without Manny there - and that it had to mean she was interested, too. He had laughed about the little bar stint when Abby had shut down your flirt with the hot waitress in an instant and was now 100% sure this was going to go great. As long as you kept it together and didn’t ruin everything. As you often did. This needed some tactical planning.

Mouths full of cheesy delight and laughing at each other’s stupid ideas, you and your brother had come up with a fairly foolproof plan. You would text Abby in 1-2 days, keeping it cool and asking when you should come over. Then, you would suggest making cocktails at home, already granting a fun activity and something to loosen the mood. You would keep it casual and bring over some nice liquor and maybe a bag of chips, perfect for watching a movie. You’d try to keep the conversation casual and try to speak mostly about Abby, asking lots of questions so you didn’t get tangled up in speaking about yourself. If you steered the conversation toward movies, you could watch something exciting and maybe even scary together so you could cuddle up on the couch together. And well, if you got that far, things would probably fall into place naturally. Foolproof. Y/N-proof.

You groaned as you reached over to grab your phone from your nightstand. You had a message from your mom asking if you wanted to come over for dinner next weekend and an email from your professor who wanted to submit your last essay to some kind of grant application. You’d have to answer her later, your head still felt like it was filled with cotton. Instead, you sent Leah a message.

-Hey, you still alive? There’s leftover pizza and coke over here.

Five seconds later, there was a delighted squeal at the other side of the wall and you heard the click of your roommate’s door before yours opened and Leah tiptoe-danced inside, beaming at you. She was wearing nothing but an extremely tight-fitting cropped wifebeater and a khaki thong, accentuating her long legs as she leaped right onto your bed and almost made you fly as her weight hit the mattress. You tried not to stare at her perfectly toned abs as she opened the gigantic carton and held up a slice of pizza over her head, letting the tip dangle in her mouth before biting down with a moan that made you snort awkwardly.

“Good morning, you animal.”

Leah just moaned again, making a grabbing motion with her hand and pointing toward the second can of coke on your nightstand. You laughed silently as you handed her the cold can, condensed water running down the sides and wetting your fingers. You wiped them on the blanket. The tall brunette swallowed hard and took a sip of coke.

“Good morning, womanizer.” She grinned widely. “I’m so proud of you, man. This is the first time I’ve seen you in action and I can safely say Abby was just as surprised as I was.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Oh god, was I that obvious? Did I do anything inappropriate? I thought it went well, but now I’m not so sure.” You spread your fingers to peak at your roommate who was currently chewing on a ginormous bite, tomato juice running down her chin. No manners, that girl. She just shook her head and made a noise somewhere between protest and encouragement.

“No, you were fine,” she said with a full mouth, “very tipsy, but cute. I hope you remember Abby inviting you to her place.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

You ran your fingers through your hair, immediately getting stuck in a tangle of knots. God, you needed a shower.

“Yeah, I already went over it with Mark. We made a plan so I won’t embarrass myself.”

“Good. I hope it goes well, you two would be cute together. Hot, even. I mean, no one can deny the allure of those biceps. And her ass?! Godly.” She easily evaded the kick you aimed at her ribs, laughing and slapping your shin away.

“Come on, let’s not act like you’re not ogling her every chance you get. I am, too - the woman looks like a greek goddess!”

“That’s enough,” you giggled, aiming another playful kick in her direction but only lightly hitting her in the thigh. “I know what she looks like.”

“Right. And soon, you’ll hopefully see a lot more of her.” This time, Leah jumped off the bed before your toes could sink right into her side. You tried to suppress a grin as you two stared at each other for a moment before Leah sat back down cross-legged and began eating the last slice of pizza.

“I mean,” she said casually, “you have seen more of a woman before, right?”

You grabbed your coke and turned it in your hands before answering.

“Yeah, I have. It wasn’t… It wasn’t all that, though. Just one time and we were both so nervous it was just awkward.”

Now Leah looked at you with a mixture of shock and pity.

“Come on, Y/N. Only once? You’ve never seen stars because of a woman’s tongue? Never screamed into a pillow because of some skilled sapphic strap game? Never lost your mi-”

“Leaahhhh!” You groaned, feeling blood shoot into your cheeks. “No, okay? I… I made the other girl cum, but for me, it was just… it was too unfamiliar and I didn’t know her well enough to really let myself enjoy it.”

Suddenly a thought crossed your mind and you felt your eyes open wide.

“Wait. Has Abby…? Is she..?”

Leah paused mid-bite and thought for a second.

“Well, she does have experience with men, obviously. As far as women go… I honestly don’t know. She’s dated a few, but it never went longer than a couple of weeks. I don’t know how fast things go with her and she’s never gone into detail with me. I have to ask Nora about that.”

“Don’t you dare! She’ll know this is about me and tell Abby!”

“Oh come on, I’m interested, too.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you so you know what to prepare for, win-win!” She nudged your foot and gave you a mischievous half-smile.

“For god’s sake, do what you must.” You finished your coke and threw it perfectly into the bin beside your desk. Leah gave you an impressed nod. “And now I desperately need a shower. There is a literal nest on top of my head.”

“True,” Leah said and stood up, stretching her limbs as she walked to the door. “Thanks for the pizza. I’m gonna ask Jordan if he wants to come over, so don’t walk out naked if you don’t want a threesome.” She winked at you before closing the door, but a small part at the back of your brain knew that she wasn’t completely joking. You sighed and swung your legs off your bed. No point in lying around, it was past 3 pm anyway.

Grabbing your phone, a shirt, and some clean boxers, you headed for the bathroom. You took your time showering, detangling the mess on your head with lots of conditioner, humming along to Marika Hackman’s cover of I Follow Rivers as you stood under the hot stream of water and brushing your teeth for at least five minutes while waiting for a hair mask to do its magic. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was filled with hot steam and you felt like a whole new person. You slipped into your fresh clothes and held the blow dryer to the mirror until your reflection was clear.

So. Here you were. Finally, you had spoken to the woman of your dreams and even flirted with her. She may have even been jealous of your short conversation with Ellie, the bartender. Tomorrow, you would text her, you would be brave and cool and not at all awkward. As you collected your clothes off the floor and took your phone, you suddenly realized something that would destroy your entire plan. You didn’t even have Abby’s phone number. Why hadn’t you asked her? Of course, you could ask Leah for it, but Abby would know because she knew she hadn’t given it to you. It would be a lot less cool and casual. Fuck.

You stepped into the hallway and ran straight into Jordan. Perfect. Good thing Leah had warned you.

“Oh, hi Y/N! You doing alright after all those tequila shots?” Jordan’s face was open and kind. You immediately relaxed. Just a guy, not a threat.

“Better than I thought I would, actually. What about you?”

“Well, I sent them back out the way they came as soon as I got home.” He grimaced and shrugged. “Just glad I’m still alive, to be honest.”

You had to laugh. “I’m glad, too. Leah would have been devastated.”

“I hope so.” He grinned back. The silence between you stretched a little bit too long.

“Anyways, I’m gonna see what she’s up to. See you later?”

“Yeah, sure!” You said, relieved that he didn’t make it awkward. You quickly slipped into your room and sank down on the bed, composing a text to Mark.

-Minor hiccup - I don’t have her number.

His reply came immediately.

-Shit. What now?

You let yourself fall back on the mattress and covered your face with your arm. Your phone vibrated again and you lifted it up, hoping for a brilliant idea.

-Hey, this is Abby. Are we still on for next week?

You almost dropped your phone on your face. For a minute, you just stared at the message. Then you rolled over onto your stomach and screamed into your pillow.

-Hi Abby. We absolutely are. Y/N.

You tried to suppress a fit of giggles as you texted your brother.

-Nvm, she just texted me.

-Omg what!! Play it cool, don’t answer yet. What did she say???

-Oops already answered. Still on for next week.

-Incredibly casual lol. Whatever, good for you!

-Shut up!

Another text by Abby came in and you actually started drumming your feet on the bed with excitement.

-Tuesday? I could cook for us

-Very impressive, I’ll bite. What time should I come over?

-Very clever. 6pm? Any allergies?

-Vegetarian, hope that’s okay. 6 is great, text me your address?

You watched the little text bubble pop up and vanish again for a good minute, getting more and more nervous for her answer.

- No problem. 2425 Constance.

There was nothing else to do but scream into your pillow again.

-

The next two days went excruciatingly slow. You spent the rest of your Sunday in bed, watching a terrible zombie movie and later ordering curry because you couldn’t be bothered with preparing any food. As it got late, you suddenly heard a knock on the wall. At first, you thought it was accidental, until the knocking started to continue in a steady rhythm. With a death glare that you hoped would reach through the concrete, you plugged your headphones into your laptop and continued watching your movie.

On Monday, you threw yourself into art history coursework and caught up on your studies, emailed your professor, and spent three hours on an essay about the depiction of blood in paintings of Judith beheading Holofernes. Lovely subject. Even though you got through a lot of your tasks for the day, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at your phone every 10 minutes to see if you had missed a message. Of course, nothing came up. Around 4 pm, your phone buzzed and you leapt for it only to find out it was Leah asking you to buy toilet paper later. At 6pm, you shut off your laptop and grabbed your backpack to go grocery shopping.

Standing in the liquor store you realized you hadn’t asked Abby about cocktails.

“Looking for something in particular?” the elderly lady behind the counter asked. It seemed to be her own shop and to have been hers for a while, judging by the elegant wooden shelves and the warm, nice feeling of the room instead of neon lights and rows of white metal.

“Uh, yeah, actually. I have a date tomorrow and I thought we could make cocktails, but I forgot to ask what she likes. So now I don’t know what to bring.” You gave her an apologetic half smile. She stood up from her seat behind the register, growing not even 2 inches standing compared to sitting and made her way over to you. Her eyes twinkled behind thick glasses that made her look a little bit like an owl.

“Well, dear. I don’t know if I would go straight into the hard liquor on a first date. On my last first date, we had a delicious red wine, a Merlot. Couldn’t that be something? Are you going to eat anything?”

“Oh yes, she said she’d cook for us, but I don’t know what exactly.”

The shop owner gently put a hand on your arm and guided you to a shelf of dark bottles.

“Well, Merlot goes well with any food, so I think it would be perfect. Cocktails come later, when you dress up and go out together or after a night of theater.” You felt a surge of warmth spread through your chest. Theater? Well, why not? For a second, you began to trail off, imagining Abby in a perfectly tailored suit, you at her arm just as dressed up, every head turning as you entered the room and ordered Gin Tonics at the bar during the break. The voice next to you pulled you back to the present.

“If you’re cooking at home, wine is the thing to bring, trust me.”

“I trust you,” you said with a smile as you took the bottle she handed you. The label was a creamy white, with beautiful golden letters. Hopefully this wouldn’t bankrupt you. “Thank you for your help.”

The shopkeeper sat back down in her chair with a sigh and typed into the cash register. 15.99$. That wasn’t so bad. You paid and gently put the bottle inside your backpack.

“You know, you should come by soon and let me know how it went. I think that Merlot will bring you good luck. My wife and I still have it every Sunday.” Your head snapped up and your eyes met that charming, smart twinkle again, flashing at you out of dark brown irises. For a moment, all of the things you wanted to say were stuck in your throat, then you just broke into a smile.

“That’s wonderful, ma’am. I hope I can have that, in the future.”

“Of course you will, dear.” She really sounded like she meant it. A small lump suddenly appeared in your throat.

“Thank you so much. I wish you all the best.”

“Go get her!”

You laughed and waved at her again as you exited the shop, taking the warmth and comfort of it with you and tucking it right beneath the bottom of your heart and the top of your stomach where you knew it would fuel you for a few days. You had already decided that you would come back and make it your mission to befriend that old lady. What a wonderful woman.

Only 23 hours to go. That night, it was almost impossible to fall asleep.

-

You got through the next day by once again banning any thought of the evening from your mind and diving head first into your assignments. You were going to lead a discussion on different planes of language or communications in women’s art and literature and reading up on the historical differences between male and female narratives, beginning with the ancient poet Sappho. It was an exciting topic, something you were extremely thankful for. Otherwise you might have been looking at your phone every 3 minutes instead of every 20. Of course, no message from Abby.

The bottle of wine was standing on your nightstand, reminding you of your plans with an exciting tingle in your stomach. At 4pm, you gave up on doing anything productive. You spent forever in the shower, stealing some of Leah’s expensive pink body scrub, shaving everywhere and regretting it immediately because you felt stupid for assuming anything, entertaining the but what if thoughts while you thoroughly lathered your entire body in Leah’s shampoo and shower gel and spending a good 10 minutes just standing under the hot water because you weren’t ready to leave that fantasy yet. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was an actual steam bath and you could hardly see the door through the thick waves of wonderfully scented fog. You took your time stealing some more of Leah’s skincare products, having come to the conclusion that if she noticed anything and scolded you for it, you might as well try out the whole arsenal.

When you finally opened your closet door, feeling luxurious and clean and fresh, it was 5.10pm. What the hell were you going to wear? You and Mark had agreed on casual, but what the hell did that even mean? You decided to ask him.

-Help!!! Freaking out over my outfit, need a definition for casual

-Jeans and T-Shirt, just your standard outfit. Imagine meeting me for sushi.

-I’m bringing red wine. It seems wrong to bring wine in jeans and a t-shirt..

-What happened to cocktails?? Trust me, keep it simple. You don’t wanna turn up in a dress and she opens the door in sweatpants.

-I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in sweatpants. Ughh fuck I don’t have time for this. Jeans and t-shirt it is. Lesbian grandma recommended wine, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow x

-Go get her x

You quickly slipped into some black jeans that were just the right amount of tightly fitting around your ass and a white shirt with a tiny pomegranate embroidered on the front. Then you put on your jacket and quickly threw your wallet, phone and keys into a tote before grabbing the wine and putting it in as well. With a last look into the hallway mirror and a yelled goodbye to Leah, you rushed out of your apartment.

The evening air was not as cool as you had expected and the sun was just about to set. On your way to the train station, you typed out an on my way! message to Abby and quickly deleted it again. No sense in sending it now when you hadn’t spoken since Sunday and were about to see her. The train ride was annoying, the wagon stuffed with commuters and some guy trying to convince you the apocalypse was upon you all. Zombies, not the last judgement - something different at least.

During the walk from the station to Abby’s house, you were sure it wouldn’t take much more for you to actually start levitating. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your throat was so cramped up it was hard to breathe. When you pulled out your phone, your fingers were actually shaking. Jesus Christ, get a grip. 5.58 pm.

And there it was, 2425 Constance. Just a normal suburban white house, like any other in the street. It actually seemed a bit weird, Manny and Abby living here in the midst of what seemed to be a family neighborhood with real adults . Then again, they both weren’t in college, so you supposed they actually were real adults. When you walked up to the front door, you could hear faint music from inside - jazz? You wouldn’t have guessed she was the jazz type, but then again you knew almost nothing about her. Right. Ask questions, keep the conversation about her. Be cool.

You knocked.

Abby opened the door, a wave of warm air hitting you from inside. It smelled delightful. Her face was slightly flushed, her lips parted as she took in a deep breath. She had tied her hair back in a low bun, but a few strands had fallen out and framed her face. One was standing up in a funny angle.

“Hi, Abby,” you said, trying to keep your voice level and not stare at her body. Fuck, she had dressed up. And she looked hot.

“Hi!” A smile slowly grew wide on her face. When she realized that she was blocking the door, she quickly shook her head and stepped aside. “Come in! Can I take your jacket?”

Oh God, this was hopeless. You already knew you were hers. Thanking her, you took off your jacket and she hung it in a closet next to the entrance. When she turned around, you got a chance to admire her fully. She wore wide dress pants that perfectly accentuated all of her muscles, topped with a loose white shirt with wide sleeves, reminding you a little bit of a pirate. Her jewelry rounded off the pirate look and you had to bite back a grin. She raised her eyebrows at you.

“What?” Her cheeks were still slightly red, but you attributed it to standing in a hot kitchen for probably the last hour, judging by the variety of smells overlapping and mixing together, already making your mouth water.

“Uh, I brought wine,” you said and held out the bottle. Eloquent as always. Abby took it and whistled through her teeth as she inspected the label.

“That looks classic. The sauce I made has some wine in it as well, this is perfect. Thank you, what a great idea!”

You were overwhelmed with her generous praise and didn’t know where to look, so you settled on her hands. You had always sneaked looks at her hands, at the way she held a glass or drummed on a table or clasped them when she was intently listening to someone. They looked strong and rough from work, but there was also a delicacy in their movement and you were sure her touch could be as gentle as the brush of a hummingbird flying past. Realizing you were staring, you tore your gaze away.

“It smells delicious in here, I can’t wait to see what you cooked.” You followed her into the kitchen, where she placed the bottle on the counter and took a corkscrew from a drawer. A big red pot was standing on the gas stove over a tiny flame, the lid still hiding its contents. Your stomach suddenly growled loudly into the silence.

“Someone’s hungry.” Abby gave you a side glance and an amused smirk as she screwed the silver device into the cork. “Everything’s already set, we can get started right away.”

You covered your eyes with your hand for a second before laughing.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot to have lunch earlier and then I figured I’d just wait so I could really savour this.”

“Smart thinking. I made patates au vin , a vegetarian version of coq au vin which is chicken in wine. It’s basically potatoes and vegetables in a thick brown sauce, served with some good rustic bread.” You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back at the thought of getting to eat home cooked french cuisine made by Abby in a few minutes.

“Oh my God, say that again.” You could barely stop yourself from moaning. Abby laughed and opened the wine with a loud pop.

“Here, take this over to the dinner table. I’m right behind you.” You took the bottle and followed her nod into the dining room. The wooden table was beautifully set with big and small plates, glasses for water and wine, candles, two blue glass bottles of water and a bowl of salad topped with what looked like apples, pomegranate seeds and feta cheese. You carefully placed the bottle of wine next to the water bottles and stepped aside for Abby, who came out of the kitchen carrying the heavy pot and placed it on a cork coaster in the middle of the table.

“Wait, let me just…” she trailed off as she grabbed her phone from the sideboard and changed the music. A saxophone led a jazz band into the song before a beautiful female voice set in, soft as butter and filling the room like the smell of roses. The voice was familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite place it. As Abby sat down, the music came to a crescendo before breaking off, the voice setting in again with a soft

is it a crime?

“Who sings this?” you asked as Abby opened the water bottle and filled your glasses.

“Oh, it’s Sade. She was my dad’s favorite.”

And I want you to want me too, the woman sang, and your eyes met over the table. You swallowed. Was? Not the right time.

“Sade? Oh, she sings Smooth Operator, right? I know that one, but I never checked out more of her music.”

Abby smiled at you and opened the lid of the pot.

“Yeah. This is the Promise album, my favorite. She is a force.”

A wave of steam erupted from the pot and you bent forward to look inside. Thick, roasted wedges of yellow potatoes lay in a bed of orange and purple carrots, mushrooms and tomatoes in a thick brown sauce, a stalk of thyme on top and a bay leaf poking out from the sauce. You weren’t sure if you were drooling, but you didn’t care.

“Abby, oh my God! This is fantastic.”

A spark had lit in her eyes when she heard you say her name. She elegantly stood up again, grabbed a serving spoon, and held out her hand for your plate. You watched her hands again as she plated an array of vegetables for you and used the spoon to draw a little sauce heart on the rim of the plate. Your ribs felt two sizes too small around your chest. This woman was actually going to be the death of you.

“Thanks,” you quietly said and waited as Abby helped herself to a plate. She sat down and gestured toward the small basket with thick slices of grey bread with a dark brown crust.

“Help yourself. Bon appétit.”

After a few moments of eating in comfortable silence before you showered the blonde in an array of compliments, this time not able to refrain from moaning when you bit into a tender, sweet purple carrot, the conversation began to flow. Abby complimented the wine, you talked about your studies, Abby told a few work stories in which both she and Nora were involved, you told her about your close relationship with your brother and she bittersweetly reminisced about her upbringing as an only child with a single dad. It had just been the two of them, moving frequently because of his changing jobs in different hospitals. He had been a neurosurgeon, and a brilliant one at that, but always humble and ready to help wherever he could. Abby sat up straighter when she talked about him, her chest actually swelling with pride when she told you about one time they had rescued an injured horse that had run away and been hit by a car in front of them.

“I think I was 16 back then. It’s one of my favorite memories of him. It actually wasn’t long before…” Her eyebrows moved into a frown and she bit her lip, pushing a small piece of onion around her plate. Fuck, maybe it would have been easier to talk about you, after all.

“We don’t have to talk about it. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

She looked up and you expected to see tears, but her eyes were full of love and her face smoothed out into a gentle smile.

“No, it’s okay. I’m still working on it, and part of my therapy is telling people who don’t know yet. You know, I don’t really have a lot of friends.” She suddenly laughed, easing the tension at the bottom of your lungs. “That sounds stupid, of course I do. I have Manny and Nora and Leah and Jordan and Owen, I guess. But the thing is, they all knew me before. I haven’t really made friends ever since my dad.. passed away. The idea of needing to open up to someone about all this so I can develop a real connection and friendship with them is just a lot to bear.”

“The mortifying ordeal of being known,” you mumbled, more to yourself, crumpling up your napkin in one hand.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, it’s this quote from a New York Times article that has been floating around the internet for a while. ‘If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known’.” You looked up at her and inhaled deeply. “It’s something I’m also terrified of. Although it seems kind of stupid sometimes, because compared to you for example, I don’t really have a good reason.”

Abby looks at you like she’s just discovered something extremely interesting. She takes a sip of her wine before answering, her silver rings blinking at you in the candlelight.

“It’s not at all stupid. I’ve always been very careful with who I open up to, even before my dad died. It’s horrifying, laying yourself bare for a person, putting yourself on a silver plate and handing it to them and saying there, now do with it what you wish. Maybe they’ll look at it and say no, thanks. Maybe they’ll call everyone and say hey, look at this mad woman with her twisted insides, isn’t that funny? Maybe they’ll see it and think, I can do this, and then after a few years they suddenly realize they actually can’t and you’re way too much and so they leave for someone with a more simple, prettier silver plate. Maybe they’ll even take a few pieces with them as they go.”

She didn’t sound bitter as she said it, and she didn’t look terribly sad either, more as if she was making an observation about something she was mildly interested in. You didn’t know what to say except for show me your silver plate, please show me your all, and I will devour it, savor it, keep it with me forever. But you stayed silent, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“I’m quite the handful, am I? Sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown all this” - she gestured toward herself - “at you during our first date.” Then her eyes widened as she realized what she had said. “Fuck, sorry, I just assumed… you probably don’t…”

Finally, movement came back into you. You jumped from your chair and were next to her in a few paces. She lifted a hand and you took it in yours.

“Of course this is a date,” you said gently and smiled at her. “Otherwise why would I have been this nervous for the past three days, thinking of nothing but you, constantly checking my phone to see if you texted me? And I brought red wine, come on.” That brought a smile to her face. She chuckled lightly.

“So I haven’t just ruined everything?” The hope in her eyes was mixed with real, honest fear.

“No, of course not. I’m glad you’re being open with me. You know, I planned not to reveal too much about myself tonight, fearing I would scare you away or say something stupid and make you suddenly lose interest.”

The current song ended and a soft, funky beat came on. There it was again, that twinkle in Abby’s eyes. Your hands were still clasped around hers and she made no move to pull back.

“Well, now I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me. Lay it on me. Over dessert, maybe?”

You raised your eyebrows.

“There’s dessert? You’re going to have to roll me out of here later.”

She laughed, warm and genuine, and the pride you had felt back in The Closet filled your chest again. You would do anything just to be the one to make her laugh every day for the rest of your life. She got up and you both started clearing the table together.

Never going to know

What fate is going to blow

Your way, just hope that it feels right

Could that Sade lady be any more on the nose? You risked a glance at Abby, who was smiling to herself. You followed her into the kitchen and she opened the fridge to produce a large glass dish, showing the several layers of biscuit and white cream, topped with dark cacao.

“Tiramisu? Seriously Abby, how much time did you spend in the kitchen today?”

She gave you a crooked grin before exiting the kitchen.

“Took the day off.”

You just sighed and went back into the dining room.

Such a fine time as this

“Here.” Abby handed you a small plate with a piece of her gourmet tiramisu. Your fingers brushed against each other and you both paused for just the blink of an eye.

What could equal the bliss

The thrill of the first kiss

You sat down and grabbed the small fork left next to your wine glass. On second thought, you took another sip of Merlot. It really was exquisite.

“Buon’ appetito,” you said and sliced off a perfect edge of tiramisu. The soft, coffee-drenched biscuit fell apart on your tongue, mixing with the heavy vanilla-flavored mascarpone. “Did you know where the name tiramisu comes from?”

Abby lifted her fork to her mouth and softly closed her lips around the piece of creamy dessert. You were entranced, watching her hand sink down to the table again, then her jaw moving and flexing as she chewed. She raised her eyebrows questioningly and you cleared your throat, taking another piece on your fork.

“ Tira mi su is Italian for ‘pull me down’. It’s the last thing you eat after dinner and the thing that makes you tired, pulls you right into the food coma. In restaurants, it rounds off the meal and guests will probably leave in the following hour because they feel they’re ready to go home.”

Never as good as the first time

Natural as the way we came to be

“Oh,” Abby said, her voice quiet. She looked up at you through dark lashes. “And are you going home after this?”

“No.” You said it without thinking, only knowing what was true in your heart. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m glad.” Taking a deep breath, Abby straightened up, then reached a hand across the table, her palm facing up. You stared at it for a fraction of a second before placing your hand in hers, feeling something fall into place inside you. The glances you exchanged said so much more than you could possibly dare to say out loud right now.

You used your free hand to stab the last piece of tiramisu. This time it was Abby who was watching you with hungry eyes as the fork vanished between your lips and emerged clean.

“This tiramisu could be the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” you said after swallowing and Abby’s fingers twitched ever so slightly around your hand.

“Thank you. I’m really into French and Italian cuisine, as you may have noticed.”

You leaned back in your chair, careful not to pull back your hand.

“I couldn’t do it, honestly. Spending so much time in the kitchen. Especially not with a job like yours, on your feet all day. I’d probably survive off of pasta and takeout.”

Abby smiled and began slowly drawing circles on the back of your hand with her thumb. You were already hyper-aware of how your blood rushed through every vein of your body, a side-effect of the red wine, but now it came to a roar in your ears.

“I guess I need some kind of hobby besides lifting weights. It calms me down. And it’s not just about the end result, about getting to eat something, but also about picking the right ingredients, taking my time cutting them up, trying new recipes with new flavors, and learning more about food and culture, and honestly about myself. It’s like meditating.”

“That sounds…” you were at a loss for words, “unbelievable? I’ve never heard someone talk about cooking like that. And I’ve never felt that way about it, too. I guess I’d like to, though. It sounds nice.”

Abby brushed her thumb over your knuckles.

“Well, I could show you.” You tilted your head slightly. “I mean, we could cook together. Next time. If you want to?”

Sade’s voice, smooth as polished wood and dripping with honey cut into the moment.

How could I have doubted

Honey, it's with me that you belong

“Yeah, I’d love to. What do you have in mind?”

“Do you like lasagna? We could make a vegetable lasagna and substitute the meat for soy. I could show you how to make a béchamel.”

You laughed and squeezed her hand.

“I love lasagna, although I have no idea what a beshmel is.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Abby’s face was glowing with happiness.

As the last two songs of the album played, you helped Abby clean up the table. You got into an argument about doing the dishes - Abby said she’d do it later but you insisted you would do them now or at least help because so far you had not lifted a finger.

“Come on, Abby, please let me help?” You tried your best doe eyes at her. She grinned and playfully slapped your upper arm.

“Okay. But I’ll put on different music.”

She vanished to the dining room while you began filling the sink with water. A high note filled the room before a man spoke.

You broke my heart / 'Cause I couldn't dance

You didn't even want me around

And now I'm back / To let you know

I can really shake 'em down

Abby stepped into your field of vision. The music set in, a delightful 60’s rock and roll melody, and Abby began dancing toward you with tiny steps and shaking shoulders. She was lip synching to the coarse voice of the singer and reaching out her hands for you. Snapping out of your frozen position, you shook your head, grabbed her hands, and were immediately twirled through the kitchen. A squeak escaped you as Abby pulled you back toward her and with another pirouette, you almost slammed into her chest. You both laughed out loud, continuing to dance through the kitchen with big, overexaggerated moves, flailing your arms and shuffling your feet across the tile.

I can do the twist

Now, tell me baby

Do you like it like this?

You quickly began singing along to the simple lyrics and both of you were giggling at each other’s dance moves. The next song was Stand By Me and you both settled down, beginning to clean the pots and dishes. You did the washing while Abby dried off the pieces you gave her and put them back into the right cupboards. Both of you were swaying and humming along to the music.

During the second chorus, both of you began belting along, filling the kitchen with the wonderfully familiar sound of slightly drunk women singing together. As the song ended, you both comically froze and waited for the next song to set in. When it was La Bamba by Ritchie Valens, you both continued singing along and showing off some probably terrible salsa moves. You were done in no time and Abby took your hand, pulling you into the dining room and sliding across the wooden floors with you. Your stomach hurt from laughing and you couldn’t stop smiling.

Next came the bittersweet Be My Baby by the Ronettes, a song you remembered from your childhood, vague memories of your parents slow dancing together after another terrible fight. You swallowed down the hint of bitterness creeping up from your stomach. Instead, you looked up at Abby, almost a full head taller than you, and dared yourself to step forward. You placed your right hand in Abby’s and your left on her tricep, coming unbearably and exhilaratingly close. Abby put her hand on your back, right below your shoulder blade, warming you through the fabric of your shirt. Your faces were incredibly close, her breath warm on your nose, and you could have counted every single freckle on her beautiful face. There was a slim ring of gold around her pupil, complimenting the green of her iris. She was breathtaking.

You couldn’t take this any longer. Should you kiss her? Everything inside you wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to close the last inch of distance. It felt like wanting to do a handstand but pulling back at the last second every time because of a deep fear of failing and hurting yourself. It was terribly frustrating.

Instead, you leaned your head against the round muscle of Abby’s shoulder, turning your face toward her chest and pressing your temple to her collarbone. You could smell the herbs she had used to cook earlier in the fabric of her shirt, but her skin smelled like pine and something else, earthy and dark, like tree bark or wool. Abby rested her chin against your forehead and her low hum of contentment vibrated against your cheek.

A light waltz melody began, Unchained Melody, a song you knew from some commercial and had listened to for a few weeks straight after.

I need your love

God speed your love to me

You smiled to yourself and could sense Abby was doing the same. You kept slowly turning, dancing through the candle-lit room and swaying side to side. The band set in louder and you lifted your head again. Abby’s eyes were fixed to yours, but you couldn’t stop yours from wandering lower, finding those perfectly pink lips, hanging open ever so slightly. Your hand wandered upward, along her shoulder, and to the back of her neck. As the last verse of the song began, you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against her. Abby inhaled sharply, her fingers spreading on your back and pressing against your skin. You gently pressed your lips to hers again and this time, she kissed you back. You dug your fingertips into the back of her neck, desperately wanting to come closer, to pull her down to you, hell, you would climb her like a tree if you had to.

Feeling courageous, you stuck your tongue out and ran the tip upward over her lips. Abby instantly reacted, opening her mouth for you and greeting your tongue with hers. She tasted like wine and cacao, and faintly like thyme. Releasing your hand, she wrapped her arms around your waist. You reached up and buried your hand in her hair. She gasped into your mouth. You tucked that sound away for later, swearing to yourself you would make her do it again as often as you could.

A few seconds of silence between songs were disrupted by your wonderfully frivolous wet kissing sounds and a small whine that escaped you when Abby’s hand wandered lower to cup your ass. The first guitar chords of Nights In White Satin vibrated through the air and Abby grabbed you tightly before lifting you off the ground and wrapping your legs around her hips. She carried you over to the dining table and set you down.

The dramatic crescendo in the song you loved so much began.

And I love you

Yes I love you

Oh, how I love you

The singer’s voice filled every corner of the room, his declaration hovering above you, the high voices of the background singers ringing in your ears and Abby’s hands everywhere, her body leaning over you, her hips pressed between your legs. You flexed your legs to pull her in closer, almost falling apart when Abby let out a low moan and rocked her hips forward against you. Then she suddenly slowed down and broke the kiss.

“Wait, let’s talk for a second.”

You kept your legs clamped around her, but relaxed back a little, brushing back a strand of hair from her forehead and giving her an encouraging nod to go ahead.

“I haven’t… I’m not that experienced with - with women. And generally. And I don’t want to rush things and do something wrong and lose you. I don’t really know how this works and I want to do it right.”

Her hands on your waist tightened slightly. You gave her a shy smile.

“Me neither. I’m scared, too.” You surprised yourself with your openness. “How about we take this slow, then? Talk about everything openly? And just go one step at a time?”

Abby nodded and pulled you closer again.

Holding Back The Years began playing.

“One kiss at a time.” She gave you a gentle peck on the lips.

“Oh, really? I would have never picked you as the sappy type,” you laughed against her lips.

“You wouldn’t?” She acted shocked. “Let me remind you of how I took the day off to cook a gourmet french dish for you.”

“True.” You shrugged and pulled her in for another kiss. “It’s probably the muscles. With those guns, you can do anything and still be taken seriously.”

Abby snorted and you realized that had been the wine talking. For a second, you were mortified, then she scooped you up again, holding your body with one arm as she ran her free hand through your hair.

“Oh, those? You know, they’re specifically for carrying you around all day. Anything for my - princess.” You had very well noticed the little pause there, but you decided not to say anything yet. Instead, you lifted your chin and eyebrows, imitating what you thought a royal would look like.

“Well, what does that make you? You’re obviously not a prince. My lady knight?”

Abby nodded solemnly.

“Sworn to protect and defend you. And to carry you wherever.”

“Well, do you have a sofa you could carry me to?” You tightened your hold on her shoulders and leaned in closer again.

“Of course, my lady.”

Abby carried you through a doorway at the back of the dining room into a cozy living room, equipped with a large sofa and a gigantic flatscreen tv, two vintage armchairs, a wooden bookshelf with at least 100 books, and a desk facing the window, medical books spread across the surface. The blonde sat down on the sofa and you knelt left and right of her hips, straddling her as you gave her another soft kiss.

“You know,” you began, “I’ve been crushing on you for months now. I thought you had absolutely no interest in me. I didn’t even know you liked women.”

Abby’s eyes widened at your confession.

“Shit, I had no idea. You weren’t exactly forward, you know. The first time we met, you already had this pull on me. But you were so shy and I didn’t want to jump you or annoy you, so I tried to keep my distance and wait if you would come around.”

“You have Leah to thank for that. Me coming around. I kind of forgot to come out to her until karaoke night and she told me you were dating women as well. She knows I’ve been a hopeless case when it comes to you, but she wanted me to figure this out on my own.”

Abby thought about this for a second.

“Yeah, Leah probably only told you because she knew I liked you, too. I haven’t been that open about dating women in the past, just because talking about dating in general was weird with Owen and Mel around and I also just don’t like everyone knowing my personal business.”

“I get that.” You nodded. “As I said, I hadn’t even been out to Leah. Mostly because I haven’t dated anyone in forever and the last time was a disaster not worth talking about.” You winced at the memory.

“You wanna tell me anyway?”

You thought about it for a second, then you climbed off Abby’s lap and laid down on the sofa, resting your head on her thigh. Her fingers immediately began brushing through your hair and massaging your scalp.

“Well, I met this girl during a freshman party at a sorority house the weekend before my first semester in college,” you began. You had felt weirdly out of place, but were determined to speak to at least one person. A few hours and an almost-lethal amount of tequila later, the girl you had talked to all night had dragged you into one of the bedrooms. You both had no previous experience, were extremely drunk and it was already 5am. You had fun making out and were both eager to try more, but it had been more out of curiosity than desire for each other and so the experience had not ended in the expected bliss of lesbian sex. Rather, she had come pretty quickly and afterward she'd begun crying and told you she had a boyfriend, and you had gotten dressed and fled the house. After that, dating in college was not really something you thought about much.

Abby listened to your story with interest and sympathy, laughing at a few parts and stroking your hair as you told her about the end of that fateful night. She felt deeply sorry for your experience of strangeness and betrayal, immediately promising to you that she would always tell you what was going on inside her head and what she wanted.

“Like you just did,” you smiled at her. “That was brave. It’s what I should have done that night.”

“I mean, I had a few weird moments, too, before I learned to speak my mind.” Abby’s gaze unfocused and she frowned as she clearly recalled some not very pleasant memories.

“Wanna tell me, too?” you asked, keeping your voice light. She nodded, looking down at you again.

“I mean, there's Owen, obviously. That didn’t work out well and now he is with Mel, leaving me wondering if he was interested in her while we were still together. After we broke up, Nora and I went on a little bender.” Your heart jumped into your throat. Did Abby and Nora...? A wave of jealousy rose from the bottom of your stomach, but you forced yourself to keep your calm, smiling at Abby as she continued.

“We spent every weekend at a different bar, and one of them was actually at The Closet. Nora was making out with a woman in actual overalls” - she snorted - “and I just hung out at the bar, drinking Long Islands and not brave enough to make eye contact with anyone. And then the bartender started talking to me.”

Suddenly realization dawned on you. You sat up and stared at Abby.

“Wait, Ellie? The short-haired one?”

Abby grimaced.

“Yeah. We talked for a while and I came back the next week with Leah and Jordan. They didn’t even notice I was spending a lot of time at the bar. Ellie and I met for coffee a few days later and I mentioned my dad and she got really quiet and strange. Turns out, she’s related to the guy that murdered my dad, so...”

You were pretty sure your heart stopped for a moment, all the air in your chest building up pressure as you tried to figure out how to breathe out. Abby noticed and gently guided you to lay back down, continuing to weave her fingers into your hair.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’ll tell you the whole story another time. So yeah, Ellie and I. It was horrible, but we still stayed and talked for a while. She couldn’t tell me a lot about what happened, but she had no idea that I even existed and she was about to have a panic attack over it all. I helped her calm down and then she felt terrible for reacting so badly when it should be me panicking and I just told her that there’s nothing any of us can do now and we should probably leave it at that.” She sighed. “I hadn’t been to The Closet until a few days ago. I only came because I knew you’d be there.”

“Fuck, that’s terrible,” you mumbled. “I don’t think I could have gone back there. I’m still glad you did, though.”

“Me too,” Abby said, her voice gentle and honest. She leaned down to kiss you, deeply and passionately.

You stayed on the sofa for the next few hours, talking about school crushes and gay awakenings, about women constantly hitting on Abby and her being confused for a long time. She told you more about her relationship with Mel and you started to actually resent that woman. Who did she think she was? You told Abby about living with Leah and about your current research projects and she listened intently, asking a lot of questions about the art you were analyzing. You began diving into queer art and Sappho and your theory on the different languages of different social groups. Abby actually gave you some great new ideas and some good questions you couldn’t yet answer and you were actually beginning to look forward to writing tomorrow.

As the clock moved past midnight, it became clear you would have to leave at some point soon. Abby had to get up at 7 in the morning for a 10-hour shift, and you had stifled one too many yawns. You were cuddled up on the couch, kisses interchanging with long, deep conversations and more kisses.

“I can accompany you to the station,” Abby suggested as you looked up the departure times on your phone.

“You don’t have to. That’s sweet of you, but I’ll find the way.” You kissed her for her generosity, but she pulled back.

“Honestly. I don’t want you walking alone. I’ll go with you.” A sheepish smile appeared on her face and she did a tiny bow. “My lady.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, making your way to the entrance hall. Abby gently helped you into your coat and put on a black bomber jacket, a strange but hot combination with her fancy pants. She opened the door for you and you stepped out into the cold night together.

You held hands on the way to the station, stopping at every corner to make out, laughing together, and making plans for your lasagna night. You would come over on Thursday, promising to yourself you would finish all your coursework until then. Manny would come back on Friday, so you’d have the house to yourself again.

You arrived at the station way too soon, but your train was announced to arrive in two minutes. Heavy-hearted, you flung your arms around the tall blonde and she wrapped hers around your waist, lifting you up for another deep kiss.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” she whispered against your lips.

“I’ll even dress up next time,” you mumbled and she grinned at you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt. I’m excited.” Well, now you had to go shopping. Leah would be delighted to go with you.

You pressed a last kiss to Abby’s lips before unwrapping yourself from her arms as the train rolled into the station. As you stepped away, she caught your hand and pulled you back for another one, cheekily running her tongue over your bottom lip. You sighed and kissed her hand, wrapped firmly around yours, before stepping back and boarding the train. You waved at her through the window as you departed and watched her stand on the platform until she was out of sight.

Letting yourself fall into one of the seats, you pulled out your phone and texted your brother.

-We kissed!!!! Call me when you can

Then you texted Leah about shopping tomorrow, just able to send the text before your phone vibrated with a new message.

-You looked beautiful tonight. I’m the luckiest person in the world.

You tried to keep your squeal as quiet as possible. A woman a few seats ahead of you briefly looked up from her phone.

-Can’t believe I have a personal knight who will carry me wherever I want to go

The reply came in seconds.

-Anywhere and anything you want. Text me when you’re home!

-Can I text you before I’m home? I miss you already :(

You had to wait a few minutes before your phone vibrated again. This time, Abby was calling.

“Sorry, I was cleaning up and getting ready for bed.” She sounded a bit breathless.

“No worries,” you said. “What are you wearing for bed?”

Abby let out a surprised laugh.

“Really, now?”

“I’m serious. I want to imagine being with you.”

“Well, I’m wearing a gigantic black t-shirt with a ton of holes and boxers.”

You closed your eyes, envisioning Abby’s thighs straining against the hem of her shorts and the soft cotton of her shirt that you could bury your face in. She would smell like nature and like home somewhere far away.

“I wish I was there.” You noticed you were sounding desperate. Fucking hell, were you about to turn into a 13-year-old? You could hear the smile in Abby’s voice when she spoke.

“I wish you were here with me, too.” She paused for a moment. Then, “Do you want to sleep over on Thursday?”

“Uhm -” you had to think for a second, remembering you only had dinner plans for Friday with your mom. Before you could answer, Abby cut in again

“Fuck, am I rushing you? I didn’t mean - I just thought it would be nice, falling asleep together. But I totally get if that’s -”

“Abby! Of course I want to stay over!” You clenched your free hand into a fist, punching your thigh a few times in order to divert the explosion of energy inside your chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Abby’s shaky laugh was heart-wrenching. “I thought I messed up already.”

You stood up to exit at your station.

“No, not at all. I’d love to fall asleep with you.”

The way to your apartment was over faster than you wanted it to be.

“I’m home now. I think I should hang up, Leah is probably sleeping.”

“Yeah, don’t wake the monster.” Abby chuckled.

“Good night, Abby. Tonight was incredible.”

“Good night, Y/N. You’re incredible. Sleep tight.”

--

Author's note: Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! If you'd like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #the last of us 2 #tlou abby #abigail anderson #abby fic #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson fanfiction #ellie #ellie tlou #leah tlou #jordan tlou #owen moore #owen x mel #mel tlou #owen tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader

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ageofthepeacefularmy · 2 years

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title| Jackie and Wilson

pairing | Danny Wagner x fem! reader

word count | 685 words

warnings | Inspired by Hozier a song (yes, it should be a warning), Pure Fluff, Allusions/ Mentions of Sex, Engagements.

summary | She's gonna save me, Call me "baby"

author’s note | 18+! MDNI!!! The Hozier series PART 2!! some fluffy domestic danny content on wagner wednesday! This does switch POVs so just be mindful about that! Thank you for reading!

join my taglist!!

First dates were always awkward, but with Danny, it felt so natural. You sat in the coffee shop for 3 hours talking music, your collage, and his band. You knew that day that man was going to leave a mark on you… Almost 3 years after that date, you sit on the couch in your shared home with Danny, You and Danny started dating 2 weeks after that date. You were absolutely head over heels for him and still were, even after the fights and long distances whilst he was touring. You always had the memories to look back on.

Danny had been going through a rough patch when he had met you, He was contemplating his decisions with the band because he loved the boys and the music but he was nineteen and had nothing to fall back on if it failed. He was having a ‘Mid-youth crisis’ as Jake so kindly named it. But when he met you at that party and saw how your face lit up when he talked about his music, he knew he wanted to keep playing. He also wanted you, So he asked you out on a coffee date and after that it was history.

He absolutely loved everything about you, Your smile, The way you stared in aw as he was performing or just practicing, The way you were happy and proud for him no matter what, The way you called him “Baby”, The way you ran your hands through his hair, or how you and the dogs were always waiting by the door when he got home from tour no matter how late, and of course the ‘welcome home’ sex was always amazing, well any sex with you was amazing. You knew everything, especially how to calm his crazy, and you didn’t care.

He always knew that he wanted more and with your three-year anniversary coming up there was no better time.

The day Danny came home from his tour was the day before your anniversary, When your sitting on the couch with the dogs like you did every time he came home you finally hear the keys jangling unlocking the front door. You jump up and a wide smile takes over your face. Before he even fully opens the door he is almost thrown down to the floor by your embrace.

“Well, hello to you” He chuckles even though he just got the air taken out of his lungs by you, though he really didn't mind. After you both put his bags upstairs you continue your welcoming home routine and fall asleep.

When you both finally roll out of bed it's nearing noon.

“Get ready, Love, I have some plans for the day” He whispers as he gently shakes you to wake up. You slowly remove the covers from your body and walk to get in the shower and an hour later you are ready to go.

The first destination is the coffee shop you had your first date at. You sit at the same table, order the same coffee and have the same butterflies in your stomach while looking at the man across from you. The second destination was the backyard of your home that was decored for a picnic. The thought Danny put into every anniversary was truly amazing.

Glasses of your favorite wine your favorite snacks, your favorite music playing over the record player he had brought outside. Once you were done eating he had asked you to dance, the two of you slow danced for what felt like hours, but was only minutes. Right before the song ended he spun you around, by the time you came to a full rotation Danny was on one knee in front of you with a ring in his hand

“ I love you, I want a future with you as my wife mot my girlfriend, I want to raise children on rhythm and blues with you, I want to come home to you every time I come home” Before he could even finish his speech you knelt down and cut him off with a kiss

“Yes”

Taglist: @groggyvanfleet, @stardustingold, @sarakay-gvf, @parodsal000, @angelbabyivy

#Spotify #greta van fic #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #gretavanfleet #danny wagner #danny wagner fanfic

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coffee-bat · 3 years

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sure i do! (posting screenshot of ask for easier formatting)

(also, i have a whump headcannons ask that i've been compiling the response to for the past weeks (anon who asked, i'm so sorry it's taking so long, i'm not ignoring your ask), so this one will focus strictly on everything OTHER than whump.)

- he often bites his nails when stressed, or even just bored (or when he has no cigar on hand. he has a thing for chewing/nibbling on things). stopping himself from doing it is one of the reasons he wears gloves (other than for warmth and to shield his hands from damage), as having his nails bit too short is painful and can make his work almost impossible. (saying this as a nail biter. you literally CANNOT use a finger that you bit the nail of too short)

- speaking of stimming, aside from biting things, he uses the compass around his neck as a stim toy. it's useless around him, as his own magnetic field renders it impossible to point north as it should, but he'll often play with it by making it spin through altering his field. it requires both focus and a small bit of physical effort, effectively taking his mind off whatever's stressing him, at least for a short bit until he gets bored.

- he thinks he can cook, but anyone who's ever tried his cooking strongly disagrees. while his techniques are okay, like he doesn't burn or undercook stuff, the things he makes are borderline inedible. (he once made a party cheese salad for a family meeting and lowkey bonded with moreau over him being the only one to like the atrocity)

- he's the youngest of the lords (with the age order being alcina>moreau>donna>karl). donna looks younger than him, however it's mostly because of his healing factor being worse than the others', making him actually age (even if very slow) instead of being stuck in time.

- he DESPISES family meetings, along with the family dinners miranda keeps insisting on (which take place either at the castle or at donna's place, as moreau's reservoir and the factory are unsuited for that to say the least), but the latter's redeeming factor is that, if he's lucky, he gets a unique opportunity to fuck with alcina. which usually means eating her out of house and home (using the fact that she's too proud of her good manners to refuse a guest), getting drunk, wrecking her house (muddy boots who?) and then passing out somewhere. it gives him the opportunity to make himself her problem and he loves that. (i've actually started work on a comic a few weeks ago where alcina kicks karl off a random couch she finds him on (in a food coma), a shitposty thing with a SLIGHTLY wholesome-ish ending (as wholesome as alcina gets), but it was taking so long that i just gave up at some point. though, if any of y'all would like to see it finished, let me know, it'd be easier to motivate myself to do it if i knew anyone actually wanted me to lol)

- he holds animals close to his heart but would hate to admit it, in fear of appearing weak or soft. claims that he lets the one (1) cat stay in his factory ONLY because it helps with rats, totally not for company because he's a sad lonely man, what are you talking about.

-he's neither a cat or dog person, he likes both equally, but it'd be far harder to keep a dog in his quarters, seeing as it would require both more space and regular walks + playtime, while a cat is perfectly happy with just getting to sleep on him at night (in terms of contact/bonding).

- though, while he doesn't have a dog, he lowkey treats the lycans as such. keeps them under his control solely through giving them dog treats he buys from the duke. (took him a long time and lots of claw/teeth injuries to figure that out, but hey, better late than never).

--warning: the next few paragraphs discuss weight insecurity and body dysmorphia. i'll let you know when the segment ends so you can skip it if it's triggering or makes you uncomfortable--

- he's insecure about his body, both the scars littered across it and his weight. the first can't be helped and he's aware of it, however the latter TECHNICALLY CAN be and thus it bothers him far more. he used to be in a better shape, both mentally and physically, before his life was completely consumed by his work and plans of the rebellion, however these days, he just can't afford to focus on keeping himself in shape (he doesn't have the time and energy to exercise outside of the weight lifting he has to do while working, and same goes for taking care of his diet. cooking and eating balanced food takes too much time and energy, making him resort to whatever is the quickest to make and will keep him going through the day). he feels intense discomfort when looking at younger pictures of himself, he can't help but feel that he has "let himself go" in the recent years, however simultanously doesn't have the time and energy to do anything about it. it's frustrating and makes him feel out of control.

- alcina once touched on the topic while arguing with him, and it fucked him up. up until then he clang onto the small bit of hope that maybe noone has noticed the changes in his body, that maybe it was just him that was hypersensitive to it and in reality it wasn't that visible, and alcina's comment instantly shattered it. not only did she notice, but she apparently considered it worthy of using against him. there goes his last bit of confidence.

- it was one of the very few times she has seen him actually cry (before storming off to hide himself in his factory). it was also one of the few times she had apologized to him. she has made comments about his height and general looks before, and it never seemed to bother him, he always retorded back with a snarky remark targeted back at her, so she truly thought he had no insecurity issues- but this time, for the first time, he just looked hurt, almost disbelieving, and ran away without a word. it made her initial anger melt away instantly, realizing what she did. she ran after him a few minutes later, hoping it wasn't too late and she hadn't done unreversable damage. the whole incident was a major blow to her ego, especially as she was forced to beg karl over the intercom to let her in, but she wouldn't have forgiven herself if she didn't tell him that she was sorry and didn't mean it. she had to admit to herself that it truly was a low blow and she couldn't let herself be carried away like this ever again.

- karl's confidence never really healed from the incident, it's not something he can just forget. but he did get a kick out of having alcina beg for forgiveness, so he considers at least that to be an upside of the whole thing.

--weight/body dysmorphia discussion ends here--

- he gets sensory overloads easily, especially from loud noise, making him snappy if there's too many people talking/making noise. he also often has issues with things touching him when he's already stressed - due to this, he keeps a hairband in his pocket at all times (to keep his hair out of his face), and has tied the belt of his trench coat behind his back so it wouldn't touch his arms while moving around (that one is actually part of his character model). having things hanging off him irritates him greatly.

- he has a tendency to cling onto/hug whatever is in his reach while he's asleep. usually it's a pillow or his blanket, but it's also a risk one should be aware of when choosing to sleep in one bed with him. you're gonna wake up in a death grip. and he's a heavy sleeper, so don't even think about going to the bathroom.

- speaking of physical affection, he loves massages, they're one of his favorite types of affection to receive. any kind of them, really. he's sore most of the time, so a bit of relief is always greatly appreciated. back/shoulders after a long day of work, tummy if his cadou is bothering him or his eating habits fucked him over again, maybe even hands if he's worked manually for too long and his palms are starting to cramp. it's all really appreciated. (another factor contributing to why he likes them is that they're completely selfless acts of affection. his partner isn't getting anything out of it (like they would with anything sexual or romantic), its only purpose is to help him feel better. makes him feel loved.)

- speaking of, he literally cried the first time ethan gave him a shoulder rub. feeling the decades worth of pain, tiredness and muscle strain that he didn't realize he felt finally fade, be washed away, made his eyes water, he couldn't help it. it wasn't long after they had moved in together (as roommates, since karl had nowhere to go), and to karl, it felt like an affirmation that it's over, he can relax, he can rest now. no need to keep overworking himself, to keep not letting himself ever catch a break because "he might like it too much and stop chasing his goal", to keep doing anything to keep himself going for years on end despite knowing it's ruining his body. it's done, it's over, he finally deserves a rest. it made ethan deeply confused and concerned before karl sobbed out why he's crying.

these are all for now, i think! at least all that comes to mind at the moment. if you'd like me to talk about headcannons on a specific subject/topic (or expand on any of these ones), let me know! i'm sure to think of something that i haven't already, or forgot to write down. i just love talking about headcannons, man.

#this bitch took me 2 hours to write i really hope you like it #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #headcannons #long post

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silhouetteofacedar · 3 years

Text

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 6: The Slowest Cooker

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

It’s Friday, April 17th, and they’re eating lunch in the Hoover building’s cafeteria. They eat lunch together almost every day now, Mulder realizes. They’re practically joined at the hip.

Except in the fun way.

Today is different, though. Because today she invites him over for dinner.

Scully’s devouring a caesar salad, and Mulder’s heart is warmed by the evidence of her returning appetite. Five months ago, she was dying of cancer, and now she’s here stealing the occasional potato chip from the bag he got from the vending machine. He doesn’t mind; she could take his entire sandwich from him right now, and he’d happily watch her eat it.

“Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?” she asks, covering her mouth with her hand as she chews. “My mother got me a crockpot for my birthday and I’m thinking of giving it a test drive.”

His heart leaps, and he wants to shout yes, but instead he asks “What about Mark?”

She gives him one of her patented Scully looks. “I’m allowed to have friends, Mulder. And I still owe you for going to the bar with me that one time, remember?” She takes another bite of salad. “Also, he’s working.”

“Ah,” Mulder says knowingly. “Sure; what’s on the menu?”

“Pork roast,” she replies. “My mom’s recipe. The leftovers make great pulled-pork sandwiches.”

“Anything you’d like me to bring?”

Scully shrugs. “Red wine would go nicely, but I’ll be testing you at the door to make sure you’re not Eddie Van Blundht,” she says dryly.

“You gonna check me for evidence of a tail, Scully?” he says in a low tone, leaning in so they’re not overheard.

“Keep that up and I’m rescinding my invite and keeping all the leftovers to myself,” she replies, picking a wilted bit of romaine out of her salad.

It’s not a date, he reminds himself. Just friends sharing dinner.

Regardless, he takes a shower and puts on one of his nicer sweaters before heading to her place.

He knocks on her door at 6:30 sharp, a bottle of Pinot Noir in hand. His palm is a little sweaty, and he grips the wine tightly to avoid dropping it.

“It’s open,” he hears her call out.

He opens the door and is hit by the savory aroma of meat and herbs. His mouth waters instantly. When he turns and sees her in the kitchen, it waters for a different reason entirely.

Scully’s reaching into the cupboard above the sink, her soft green sweater riding up to expose a ribbon of creamy skin. He wants to wrap his arms around her waist, kiss her neck, tell her to forget dinner because he’s got something else on his mind.

Instead he just says “Hey”.

“Hi,” she greets him, bringing down two salad plates and setting them on the table. “Do you want to hear the good news first or the bad?”

Mulder blinks. “Uh,” he says brilliantly. That goddamn little sweater-

“The good news is that I’ve had the crockpot running for about six hours, and nothing’s caught fire,” she says, leaning against the countertop.

He nods. “And the bad news is…”

“I started the roast at almost half noon,” Scully admits. “I had to go to the grocery store first and that took longer than expected. So the meat won’t be done until eight-thirty.”

“That’s fine,” Mulder says, hoping his stomach doesn’t rumble loudly enough for her to hear. “Oh, and I brought Pinot Noir,” he says, reading the label.

---

They eat the salad she prepared; it’s spinach and apple with vinaigrette, and Mulder has to admit it’s pretty tasty.

“You’re a good hostess, Scully,” Mulder says as she pours him a glass of Prosecco. “Maggie should be proud.”

“Please note the size of crockpot she gifted me,” Scully replies, gesturing to the slow-cooker on the counter. “She fully intends for me to feed a crowd, not just you. I have a long way to go.” She sits across from him and takes a sip of her wine. “But this is a start.”

“Can I make a confession?” he asks.

Scully nods.

“I… I don’t drink much wine. So I have no idea if the one I brought is any good. I told the store clerk I was having pork for dinner and he recommended that one,” Mulder says, cocking his head toward the bottle on the counter.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Scully assures him. “I’m not a wine snob by any means. I’m kind of surprised you’re not one, actually, considering your background.”

Mulder shrugs. “I don’t drink much, aside from the occasional beer. But this is good,” he says, lifting his glass.

———

The Prosecco is… very good.

“How long until the meat’s done?” Mulder asks, resting his head on his hand.

“Half hour,” Scully replies, downing the last sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, Mulder. Do you want some cheese and crackers to tide you over?”

“M’good,” he says lazily, stifling a burp. He’s feeling warm and soft inside, and the wine’s put him in a charitable mood. “How are things with Mark?”

“Things are good… things are fine,” Scully says, then sighs. “He’s… god, he’s so nice.”

“Nice is good, right?” Mulder asks, toying with his empty wine glass. “People like nice.”

Scully narrows her eyes at him. “Are you feeling okay, Mulder?”

“We’re not talking about me,” he says, slumping in his chair and stretching his long legs out under the table. “We’re talking about Mark. Mark Eidolanterns.”

“Einolander,” Scully corrects him. “And yes, nice is good, generally,” she continues. “But sometimes I wish he weren’t so nice. I don’t know,” she says, exhaling. “I need more wine if I’m going to talk about this,” she says with a huff of laughter.

“Hey, we got it,” Mulder says. “Dinner’s almost ready anyway. Let’s try the mystery Pinot I brought.”

---

The pot roast is done cooking and they’re definitely a little drunk.

“Whew… I’m feeling this,” Mulder says, holding the bottle up too close to his face as he attempts to read the label. “It’s been so long, I forgot that wine does this to me.”

“Higher alcohol content,” Scully says. “And you’re a lightweight.”

“That your medical opinion, Dr. Scully?” he asks.

“Yes,” she mumbles, slicing a piece off of the roast and dumping it unceremoniously onto his plate. “Tada,” she says, pushing it across the table to him. “Meat.”

“I can see that,” he remarks. He takes another sip of wine. “Wine’s good,” he assures her, even though she’s already on her second glass of the red.

“Can’t say the same for the roast,” she admits, chewing. “I skimped on the salt and in hindsight that was a bad idea.”

Mulder shovels a piece into his mouth. “Tastes good to me,” he assures her. “But I’ve only had wine and salad since lunchtime so at this point I’d eat anything. I’d eat you,” he adds, pointing his fork in her direction.

“Pass that idea along to Mark,” she sighs, then covers her mouth. “I didn’t say that,” she says, face red.

“You did,” Mulder crows, too tipsy to feel jealous. “You did and I heard you.” He takes another draw from his glass. “The store guy was right, this is good with pork.”

“You’re going to have an incredible hangover tomorrow,” Scully says, chewing meditatively. “Wine’s a bitch.”

“You should swear more,” Mulder says. “It’s endearing.”

Scully shakes her head. “I can’t believe how drunk you are,” she says, almost fondly.

“I’m not that drunk,” he insists. Just in love with you.

Scully smiles. “No sober man has ever said that.”

---

“There’s no spark,” she blurts out.

They’d taken the rest of of the wine to the couch and are slumped on opposite ends, goblets in hand.

“No spark?” Mulder echoes. It was an admission he wasn’t expecting. He angles his body towards hers, careful not to spill his glass.

“With Mark. I like him, I really do. He’s kind, intelligent, a devoted father, and quite attractive; and yet…” She gestures loosely to her body with the hand not holding her wine. “Nothing.” She takes another sip. “I can’t shake the idea that I should be feeling more. And the fact that he hasn’t kissed me yet... I understand wanting to move slowly and let things grow with time, but not even a single kiss?”

“Th-that did strike me as odd,” Mulder stumbles. “You have nice lips.”

“I do,” Scully agrees, seemingly unfazed by the comment. “I should be kissed.” She drains her glass and holds it out to him.

Mulder pours out the last of the bottle into her glass. “Maybe if… maybe if you kissed, you’d find the spark.”

Scully shakes her head. “No. No, it does’t work that way. At least not for me. I don’t want to force chemistry that’s not there,” she explains. “It should come naturally, feel like it does with-”

Mulder waits expectantly for her to finish her sentence. “With?” he prompts.

Her face is flushed with wine, and she licks her lips. “Mulder, tell me honestly; do you think I’m settling?”

The room suddenly feels too warm, and he takes a nervous gulp of wine that does nothing to calm his body. “Scully, I- I’m the wrong person to ask.”

“You’re my closest friend,” she says softly, eyes cast downward. “Who else would I ask?”

She has a point. “Your mother-” he begins.

“She set me up with him in the first place,” Scully reminds him. “Clearly she’d be no help.”

“What do you want, Scully? If you’re honest with yourself.” He raises his glass. “In vino veritas, or whatever,” he says, taking another drink.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I always do this. I find a man I want to impress or gain the approval of, then resent the authority I let them have over me. This cycle of… of compliance and defiance is exhausting.”

He can tell she’s tipsy, and yet at the same time she’s strangely lucid. He’s never gotten to experience this particular kind of vulnerability with her before, and it gives him a thrill. He can feel the warmth of her body permeating him from across the sofa, her bright hair like a wood stove fire on a winter night. He wants to wrap her entire body around him like a blanket and have a long sleep.

“Yup, I’m drunk,” he declares, and throws back the last of his glass.

#my fic #txf fic #xfiles #msr #fox mulder closet romantic #fmcr #DRUNK AGENTS WITH POT ROAST #i don't drink so i did a lot of research for this okay like a LOT #the next two chapters are gonna be WILD aaa

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spencerreidimagines · 3 years

Text

Chance Encounters

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//Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: none

Prompt(s): Sharing an umbrella

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'Ah, there it is...' Spencer thought to himself, a slight smile tugging at his lips. That lilting voice that would seep through his apartment walls throughout the day. It was so light, peaceful.

Spencer paused for a moment and shut his eyes, his ear turned to the door to salvage each note, the book that he was reading lightly resting down on his lap. With each breath that rolled through his lungs, he further released himself, and sunk into his chair, his ear perched and alert, hanging on every note. This bodiless voice has been a treasure to him ever since he'd moved in; everyday, around noon, he would make his way out to the living room with a book on hand, and await the song that seems to soothe his qualms and aches.

There were times when he wished he had the courage to go and introduce himself to the woman behind this lovely voice, but those times would pass as he would think himself into spirals of doubt, and settle on leaving things as they are. This is merely a highlight to his daily life, no need to complicate it with personal introductions.

Lost in his thoughts, he'd missed the abrupt stop in her singing, a thump as the door snapped shut after her, and a latch click followed by a light tumble of steps down the hallway. His phone beeped soon after that, causing him to startle a bit before digging into his pocket.

Morgan: You coming tonight, pretty boy?

Spencer furrowed his brow, and tapped back,

Spencer: We had plans tonight?

Morgan: Yes, my cousin is performing in a show downtown. Don't tell me you forgot, I just told you yesterday

Spencer: Oh, right! yes! I will be there.

Morgan: Well hurry it up, the shows about to start.

Spencer: Right. On my way

Spencer then shut his phone then scrambled to gather his things; It's not often that he has the opportunity to see live theatre, so he jumps at any time that he can to experience it. He then strode across the room, stepped into his shoes and fled out of the door, hoping to make it on time.

...

Upon a dazzling stage, a woman's spine bowed to the will of her partner's hand, as her dress fluttered about the white stage light above them, her legs dipping and curling like the wind and her arm stretched beyond her hand, held in an elegant point. Spencer's heart sped with an inward breath of surprise, his eyes glued to the stage before him and fluttering with every movement.

Derek bumped Spencer's shoulder, a knowing smile rested on his lips, "You digging my cousin, poindexter?"

Spencer startled and flicked his eyes next to him for a moment, "Shut, up, I'm trying to pay attention," mumbled, skirting around answering his question, a sporting half smile.

Morgan chuckled, "Hey, it's cool, man," he righted himself in his seat, "I'll introduce you two after the show,"

A twitch of his lips, and a spare glance confirmed Spencer's delight with his offer before they both righted themselves in their seats for the rest of the night.

….

As Spencer began to clap, he scanned the stage for the dancer that struck his mind the most. When he found her, her smile was so wide that her eyes nearly crinkled shut with mirth, and she clutched her stage-mates hand in thanks, and bounded off of the stage with the speed and determination of a newborn calf that had just learned to run.

Morgan sent a side-eye Spencer's way and flicked his head towards the openings on the sides of the stage. He went to step out of the aisle, then caught himself and leaned back towards his companion, "Don't be too nervous, pretty boy, you've got nothing to worry about." He then chuckled at the dissipating storm of doubt in Spencer's eye, then threw his coat over his jacket and sauntered down the aisle beside their seats.

Spencer's breath tumbled out of him as he processed Morgan's words, yet couldn't fight the hand that rose to brush his curls back from his forehead. He then gathered his coat in his arms, and fell into step after his friend backstage.

...

Spencer entered upon an embrace between the two of them, with (y/n)'s face spilling over in warm glee peeking over Morgan's shoulder. The warmth from her smile spread to his cheeks as he absentmindedly followed the nooks of her crinkled nose.

"I'm so glad you could make it," she squeezed from her throat, her breath caught by the strength of their hug, "I was so worried that you were gonna miss the chance to see if all of my hard work paid off."

"You think I'd miss this?" Morgan asked incredulously as they pulled apart, "you've been talking my ear off about it for months" They shared a chuckle and he patted her head, "You did great kid, I'm proud of you."

Her smile merely grew, and her eyes lit up at this sentiment, "I'm proud of me too." She said then punctuated it with a sharp nod before catching spencer's as he awkwardly stood by the entrance and picked at the lining of his coat. Nerves were set alight as she met eyes with Morgan once more, and discretely pointed in his direction mouthing, "Is that him?" with a slight giddy smile ghosting across her lips.

Morgan nodded, sporting that same knowing smile from before, "Go get 'im, tiger," he said as he stepped to the side to allow her to pass.

With a steady breath, she wiped her already clammy palms along her tights, and feigned a confident walk in his direction, her nerves still rumbling in her stomach, 'I didn't expect him to be so cute,' she thought to herself, as she stopped before him and slightly waved her hand to get his attention.

"Hi, you must be Spencer," she began, offering an open handshake to him. He startled a bit when he heard her voice, then offered her a small smile as he fumbled his jacket around until he got a hand free to meet hers, "My name is (y/n), Derek has told me so much about you." She finished with an embarrassed chuckle making her cheeks warm.

"Morgan's talked about me?" he responded, surprised and confused as he looked up to Morgan for confirmation, and only getting a thumbs up and an wink before turning his eyes back down to the woman before him.

"Uh-huh," she confirmed, "all good things, don't worry."

He chuckled as he thrust his hand into his pocket, "I would hope so," they shared an awkward smile before their eyes broke as they searched the room for something else to say to each other. "You were amazing tonight." Spencer settled on.

(y/n) giggled a little, bashful that he had noticed her on the stage filled with so many others, "Oh, thanks. I'm sure Derek has talked your ear off about how much I would vent to him after rehearsals."

Spencer sucked in through his teeth and rocked back on his heels, "Oh, yeah, this piece really handed it to you from what I've heard."

"That doesn't even begin to cover it," she responded through rolled eyes and a sigh, "I had to curate an entirely new work ethic for this show...it was worth it though." she added as an afterthought, a light smile rested on her lips.

"Was it?" he asked, a curious wrinkle in his brow.

(y/n)'s smile grew slightly, "Mhm, the exhaustion feels earned rather than expected. It's honestly what keeps me coming back to this stage."

"Earned exhaustion, huh?" He muttered, more to himself than anything, "That's certainly a new description of something that's usually disliked by most."

"I guess I'm not like most people then," she responded, with a shrug, "I'm not saying that I'm in a rush to be tired, but this tiredness is usually a sign of a good show for me. If I'm not tired when I get back, then I didn't give as much to that night's show as I should've."

"Hm, that seems like a pretty harsh rating system."

"Believe me, many of cast mates would disagree," she said, her pushing a tasteless chuckle from her chest, "But the beauty of it is, if I feel I didn't do as good as I should've, I get to come back and do it better the next day."

He matched her smile with intrigue, he had been so oblivious about the vigor of this field, and he'd found himself yearning for more elaboration from (y/n); she seems to talk about it with so much warmth and distant glee in her eyes. And (y/n) found his forward yearning of her daily life so inviting that she would answer any asking question that he threw at her.

"I'm guessing that method only works when you're given the proper chance to rest?" He asked, soft intrigue piercing through her flushed thoughts.

"Oh absolutely," she responded, "I never sacrificed my sleep throughout this entire process; hard work can't really amount to anything if I don't give my body a chance to rest, it'll give out on me," she said with a shadow of dread, as if she had learned that the hard way, "which reminds me that I have to get back home soon."

She drew back from her words with a sorry gaze directed up at him, "I really don't mean to cut this short-"

Her words were sliced with a sharp clap of thunder, followed by rain slapping against the door of the exit. Both of their shoulders jumped at the sound, and soon after, (y/n) slapped her palm against her forehead with a heavy sigh.

Spencer watched this carefully, "You don't have an umbrella, do you?" He asked, to which she shook her head, and began to gnaw on her bottom lip as she thought through her options.

After a moment, Spencer had suddenly remembered the weight of his umbrella in his hand, and in a split second, made the decision to offer, "I could stand outside with you while you wait for a cab; I wouldn't mind."

She smiled, her cheeks growing warm at the thought of being so close to him, "That would be wonderful, but you don't have to, Spencer, I live like ten minutes down the street."

His brows shot up, "So do I." he responded, soft wonder in his voice peppered with nerves, "I, uh, can walk you home if you would like."

"Oh, um, sure." she said, a giddy grin spreading across her cheeks, "I would love that."

As they shrugged their coats onto their shoulders, they shared a rising giddiness in their stomachs at the prospect of being so close to each other under an umbrella, nearly sharing a breath. She didn't miss the shy hand that wrapped around her hip as they exited to the brisk night air, a gentle sheet of rain dribbling down onto them as they fell into step beside one another.

...

"Well, this is me," (y/n) said as they arrived at her apartment building, "Thank you for uh, walking me home." She said sheepishly. "I hope it wasn't too out of your way."

"Of course, and not at all," he responded, shaking out the umbrella and reaching into his pocket for his keys, "I wasn't expecting to be walking myself home too,"

"Oh, this is your apartment building?" She asked incredulously, "Wow, what a wonderful coincidence," she muttered, biting her smile back, "what floor do you live on?"

"Six," he said, as he held the door open for her.

"No way, that's my floor" she muttered, only bearing to look down at her shoes as they approached the elevator, "room number?"

"A5," he said, cautiously.

An airy laugh of disbelief left her lips as the elevator opened for them, "We live across the hall from each other." Her eyes were wide and eager as she stepped into it.

Spencer could only bear to turn to her, as a breath tumbled out of his chest, "You're the voice that I've been hearing," he said, a slight smile turning up the corners of his lips.

"You...can hear when I sing?" She asked, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, before her words began to tumble out of her, "I'm so sorry, I hope I haven't been disturbing you-"

"Oh, no, you've been doing the opposite, honestly," he said, rushed before she shrank back into herself, "I...look forward to hearing your voice from across the hall, i-it's beautiful," his words fell meek and sheepish as he darted his eyes anywhere but hers.

"Really?" She asked shyly, looking up to meet his skittering eyes.

"Yes," he said with a sigh, meeting her wide eyes, "I've...I've been wanting to introduce myself to you for so long."

She giggled and glanced down as the elevator took them to their floor, "Well, I'm glad that Derek has taken care of the hard part for us."

Once the door parted, and the both of them stepped out and made their way to their doors, (y/n) followed the urge to hug him before the night ended; and Spencer was washed in the smell of rain and cherry blossom as she whispered a small good night into his shoulder before entering her room. And for the first time in a long time, Spencer found it within himself to view the coming future with a tentative excitement bubbling in his core.

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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starlost-andfound · 3 years

Text

at the divide // d.s (seasons change au)

Warning: The events in this au are an addition to the timeline of Seasons Change by @chilling-seavey (also pic credits to her <3). To avoid spoilers, please go read that amazing masterpiece first (and check out her other writing)

Inspired by If I Get High by Nothing But Thieves

Summary: Daniel searches for Marigold’s presence in a time he misses her the most.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death and grief, alcohol consumption, kind of unedited

Word Count: Approximately 3K

A/N: If you want to really feel this one, listen to If I Get High by Nothing But Thieves and Marigold and Daniel’s song Cover Me Up by Morgan Wallen

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I'll meet you at the divide

To break the spell

It was too good to be true, like a fantasy with a tragic twist, a hope for a sunny day clouded by storms. Daniel carried a heavy heart yet he felt empty. His heart beat in his chest, pumping life into his veins but he loomed around in silence. He was a ghost haunted by the walls of his own home. The house was draped in an eerie quiet, so quiet Daniel could hear the clock ticking in his bedroom from downstairs. He set aside his freshly washed plate in the drying rack and dumped his emptied beer bottle in the bin. When Lennox went to school, lunches were painfully quiet. Daniel often found himself in front of the TV, eating his lunch with the background noise of any program playing on the screen.

With a sigh he rested his hands against the counter, leaning forward. His eyes drifted to the living room, where a line of photo frames stood on the mantle above the fireplace. She was everywhere. Daniel didn’t know whether that was a blessing or a curse. The clock ticked rhythmically, Daniel couldn't count the hours. His fingers traced the frames on the mantle. She was always smiling, even when it hurt the most. He never understood how. How could she hold all the rays of the sun while her star collapsed? He was the moon without a sun sharing its light, a dark unlit sky with lonely stars.

Stars. Lennox. Daniel smiled shakily, his vision blurring as he stood in front of the last photo on the fireplace. Even as the faces and colours blended together with his tears, he could still remember the image clearly. Lennox’s first hockey match. Lennox was squashed between Daniel and Marigold, wearing his hockey gear. They all held matching smiles on their faces. She was everywhere and maybe that’s what made it so hard to let go, suffocating when her presence was embedded in the air around him.

Daniel grabbed himself a beer and sat down on the couch, picking up a familiar belonging: a scrapbook Marigold had crafted for them, celebrating their early dating anniversaries. The book’s cover was brightly decorated with stars and stickers. He sat down, tracing his fingers over the scribbled text in her handwriting. He flipped through the pages, taking his time to trace the stuck-on tickets and read the small love letters Marigold had delicately weaved in her writing.

A point where two worlds collide

Yeah, we'll rebel

His mind felt dizzy with the slight tinge of alcohol. All the memories printed into the scrapbook seemed like distant conversations and hazy images. He turned the page over, his eyes falling to a scribbled date in the middle and countless doodles and stickers in the background. His heart dropped as his mind took him back to one of the most special nights in his life.His mind and heart pulled him down like an anchor into the sea, dragging him deeper until there wasn’t enough light left to see.

Daniel wiped the stream of tears off his face, closing the book. He sunk down farther into the couch, holding his head as he cried. He exhaled shakily, feeling a light feather touch trailed up his shoulder. Daniel tensed as he heard a whisper. The voice was smooth like a calming wind, familiar like the arms of a lover.

“Why so many tears, my sweet?”

He opened his eyes and from the blurry mist in his eyes he saw the form of the woman who carried his heart.

“Sunshine,” he breathed. Daniel threw his arms around her in an instant. He cried, clinging on to her tighter as sobs shook his body.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Marigold held him close, rubbing soothing circles over his back. She kissed his head as he cried. She tried to pull back slightly but Daniel only held her closer.

“How- you-you’re here-I don’t know what to do, Marigold,” he whimpered. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Why would you say that, hmm?” she pulled back and cupped his cheeks. Her thumbs wiped the tears from his cheeks. “You’re doing so well, my sweet. I am so proud of you.”

Daniel shook his head from side to side. He gripped her shirt and rested his head against her chest. His lips trembled, “I just want you back.”

Marigold sighed quietly, “You know that’s not possible.”

“Please don’t go. ”

And we run

And we run

And we run

Until we break through

“I won’t leave just yet,” she stroked his hair gently.

Daniel sniffled, and looked up. He reached his hand up, brushing his hand along her jaw and then cupping her cheek, “You are very real.”

Marigold laughed softly, “Yes, I am here.”

“Do you-” Daniel held her hand. “Does it hurt anymore?”

Marigold smiled, “Not anymore, no.”

Daniel smiled shakily, feeling the tears build up again at the answer he wished he had heard many months ago. He sat up and his hands reached up to caress her cheek. She had this golden glow that reminded Daniel of when she was carrying Lennox. “You’re so beautiful.”

Marigold smiled.

Daniel pressed his forehead against hers, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, my sweet.”

He leaned closer, pressing his lips on hers. Her soft lips and skin disappeared under his touch, fading into the air. Daniel fell forward on the couch, his hands gripping the fabric. He snapped his head around in search of her, letting out a strangled cry as he was met with the walls of his living room.

If I get high enough

Will I see you again?

Daniel was falling into a routine and he was growing to hate it. With no energy by noon, he often landed on a couch, a drink in his hand and the multiple CD’s of home videos by his side. He never drank too much before Lennox came home. Lennox was the only light which filled the gaping hole in his chest but the sharp taste of the beer numbed his mind. It calmed the storm of emotions he carried inside, just for a few moments and for him that was enough. Daniel entered the living room with a beer in his hand, heading to the CD’s by the television. The text on the CD covers were fading where he held them, some more than others, exposing the amount of times he watched them.

I feel my loss every night

Not long to wait

He slumped back down on the couch with a beer bottle in his hand as the video loaded. A crackle echoed over the speaker before a soft voice spoke.

And if I do this thing right

I dream of our escape

“Lennox, say hi,” Marigold whispered behind the camera.

She zoomed in on a baby Lennox, waddling around the flowers in the garden in his small yellow boots. He wore one of Marigold’s old sweaters, far too small for her but slightly too large for the little boy. The sleeves and hem of the sweater were rolled up, hugging his body. Spud turned to the camera and grinned, his two little teeth sticking out. He waved his arm at the camera and turned back to the flowers decorating their garden.

He pointed at the bunch of hydrangeas and tugged at his sweater, “Blue. Like mine.”

Marigold gasped, “Yes, well done my shining star!”

Spud giggled and the camera turned just as Daniel’s car rolled into the driveway.

“Daddy’s here!‘ Marigold captured Daniel stepping out of the truck with a smile. Lennox squealed, running to Daniel with his hands up. “Dada!”

Daniel scooped him up into his arms, bouncing him gently, “Hi Spud, I missed you!”

Marigold shuffled closer to Daniel, the camera lens covered as they shared a quick kiss, “Hi my sweet.”

“Hey sunshine.”

The camera flipped, fitting all three of them into the frame. Lennox grabbed the camera in his hands and pressed the lens close to his face.

“Oh, careful Spud.”

The curious child attempted to hold the camera out like his mother, pointing at the flowers, “Blue!” The garden twisted into a spiral as the camera tumbled out of his hands and the video cut off.

Daniel sniffled quietly and took a gulp of his beer. The next video began to roll. He heard the familiar sound of her footsteps down the stairs. The camera trailed the floor until it lifted up outside the house, pointing at Daniel.

“Look how handsome my baby daddy is.”

Daniel glanced up at the camera with a bashful smile. Marigold pulled him up by his arm so he could be seen better and she set her hand against his chest, giving him a pat.

“I’m going to have to keep close eyes on you at Sunday brunch. All the ladies are gonna want a piece of this.”

“Oh my gosh.” Daniel chuckled shyly.

“And my other handsome man!” Marigold added, shuffling around the open door to get a good shot of the baby in the car seat. “Gonna be fighting the ladies off you too, my beautiful boy.”

Lennox blinked up at her but her same smile could be seen forming behind his pacifier that bumped excitedly against his little nose. Marigold turned the camera around as she leaned in with Daniel, capturing both of them together and Daniel just smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She looked up at him lovingly, “Happy first Father’s Day, my sweet.”

“Thank you.” Daniel smiled, meeting her halfway for a kiss. “And thank you for making me a father.”

They shared a few more kisses and ‘I love you’s until Lennox let out a small cry.

“Oh my.” Marigold said, addressing the camera again as Daniel left the frame to care for Lennox, “Well, when Lennox says it’s time to go, it’s time to go! We have church to get to and a bunch to show off at.”

When she was a few steps away, the camera caught her admiring her husband over her shoulder as he finished buckling in the baby.

She looked back to the camera and spoke gently with her wide grin spread all over her soft face, “Lennox Blake, if you’re watching this some time in the future when you’re grown up and annoyed by your parents – just know that you have the best daddy in the whole stinking world. I picked him out myself for you so that’s how you know he’s good.”

The camera clicked softly and a another video played.

The screen zoomed in on Daniel and Lennox across the grass. Lennox was tucked up on his shoulder and Daniel was pointing out little flowers and the buds on the trees as they walked. He finally looked over and caught Marigold filming, a shy smile taking over his face and he rested his head against his son’s tiny body.

And we run

And we run

Daniel was a mess, his stray tears turning into quiet sobs. He turned off the TV, the bright screen of colours and memories turning into a reflection of his pain. He chugged down the rest of his second beer and dragged himself off the couch. The air felt stuffy, like he couldn’t breathe properly. He swayed as he stumbled to the garden door, nearly falling down the steps. A choked sob left his lips and he covered his mouth. He stormed past the bushes of overgrown, wilting flowers.

And we run

Until we break through

Daniel stumbled to the back of the garden, grabbing the support of the garden swing. The tears fell down his face , smudging the darkening colours of the flowers around him. He slid down to the grass, leaning his head back. Daniel dug his fists into the ground, tugging out strands of grass with a yell. The pain in his chest burned into tears and he closed his eyes, drowning himself in his loss. His head felt heavy with what remained of the alcohol in the system and his tears. A soft breeze rustled gently.

If I get high enough

Will I see you again?

A soft hand brushed his cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“My sweet.”

Daniel shook his head, “No, go away.”

“Daniel, my sweet. It’s okay, I’m here.”

He wiped his eyes and took a shaky breath as he saw her again. “Mari.”

“Come on, let’s get you up.” Marigold reached out her hands to pull him up to his feet. She dusted off his shoulders and smiled. “There. Much better. Come on.”

Daniel sniffled, his eyes focused on Marigold in some state of confusion and surprise. Her arm was wrapped around Daniel’s as she guided him inside the house. He lifted his finger to touch her cheek. Marigold giggled softly, “What are you doing?”

“Where are we going?” his voice cracked.

“I haven’t seen Apollo and Venus in so long,” Marigold smiled, looking up at Daniel. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Daniel moved at a slow pace, trotting beside Marigold on her horse. Marigold looked around at the green fields ahead of them, a glow in her eyes. He watched how her hair moved in the wind, her blonde curls flowing. The sun reflected on her face, and Daniel smiled. Her face was full of colour, no longer pale, no longer lifeless. For once she seemed at ease and Daniel had forgotten what that felt like.

Marigold slowed down to a stop and for the first time Daniel turned his head away from her. He gasped softly, instantly recognizing their surroundings, their spot. He followed her movements as she climbed off her horse and sat down at the spot where he would normally park the truck. Marigold shifted closer to Daniel, if it was even possible, and placed her head on his shoulder.

Daniel held her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. Marigold sighed, “No matter how many times we come here, the view still takes my breath away. It’s beautiful.”

Daniel hummed in agreement but his focus seemed to lie on staying as close to her as possible.

“You haven’t been singing much lately, my sweet,” she remarked.

“I know,” Daniel mumbled. His voice trembled and he took a moment to breathe. “It’s hard.”

Marigold smiled softly and caressed his cheek. “Could you sing something for me?”

Daniel nodded. His voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper. “A h-heart on the run.” He gulped. His eyes connected with hers and he sighed shakily. “Keeps a hand on the gun. You can’t trust anyone. I was so su-s”

Daniel’s head bowed down and he wiped his eyes, “I-I’m so-sorry-”

Marigold shook her head, cupping his cheeks. She wiped his tears away and smiled softly. “I was so sure. What I needed was more, tried to shoot out the sun,” she sang.

Daniel lifted his eyes to hers, his frown breaking into a shaky smile. “The days when we raged, we flew off the page. Such damage was done,” he joined in unison.

Marigold stood up on her feet, reaching out her hand. Daniel stood up, his hand in hers as she pulled him closer. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and Daniel held her waist, sucking in his breath. “But I made it through, 'cause somebody knew I was meant for someone.”

They swayed gently from side to side. Daniel cried quietly, pulling her closer until there was barely space between them, his forehead against hers. They shared the kisses that had been stolen from them, singing the unfinished lyrics of their song with their lips just a touch apart. A setting sun cast a dreamy light over the couple. Daniel’s singing was consumed by his tears and he buried his head in between her neck and shoulder. He held her tighter, his tears staining her beautiful dress.

“So cover me up and know you're enough.” Marigold rubbed her hands soothingly over his back and kissed his shoulder. “To use me for good.”

Marigold moved her hands to his chest. Daniel didn’t move, wanting to be in her arms. “My sweet, it’s getting dark. We should get home.”

Daniel pulled away reluctantly, holding her hand as they walked back to Apollo and Venus. Marigold waited by his side as he climbed his horse. She placed her hand on his knee and they leaned closer, their lips meeting each other halfway. Daniel nearly wished he couldn’t breathe when he pulled away for a breath. Marigold pecked his lips again before climbing her horse.

She travelled forward, Daniel following behind. Marigold sped up, urging her horse to gallop faster. Daniel frowned and tried to catch up with her.

“Sunshine,” he was an arm’s reach away.

“My sweet,” Marigold turned back to him with a smile, but it wasn’t the same. There was some underlying loss in her smile and it made Daniel’s heart drop to his stomach. “It’s time to go.”

“Sunshin-” he hurried Venus to run faster. “Sunshine! Marigold, wait!”

And we run

And we run

And we run

Daniel struggled, panting. The wind blew harshly in his face as Marigold moved faster, turning into a blur. Marigold faded farther and farther away until she disappeared. He cried out for her, his voice dying out into violent sobs. “Mari-stop!”.

Venus turned to mist from beneath him and Daniel fell to his knees. He pulled himself up, ignoring the ache in his legs and he broke into a sprint.

He felt himself fade the faster he ran, hearing a voice call out for him, but it wasn’t hers. The distance he covered never seemed enough as the fields ran endlessly in front of him. His legs gave out under him and he fell, head first into the grass.

Until we break through

Daniel’s eyes opened and he turned over with a groan, feeling someone shake his shoulder. “Dad, dad!”

He sat up in a sudden movement, startling Lennox. Daniel pulled himself to his feet, marching past Lennox to the stables.

“Dad, what happened? Where are you going?” Lennox followed him, his school bag bouncing on his bag as he kept up with his father. Daniel entered the stables, his shoulders falling as he found the horses well kept in their pens.

“Dad?” Lennox walked up to his side and held his arm, looking up at a distraught Daniel. He looked down at Lennox and brushed his hand over his head. Daniel pulled Lennox close, hugging him tight. Lennox welcomed the hug, unknowing of the inner turmoil in Daniel’s heart. He could still feel her in their own shining star, little remnants of sunshine and beautiful blooming flowers.

“Let’s go inside, Spud,” he whispered.

Lennox pulled away with a smile and jogged back into the house. Daniel watched him go before he turned back to the stable. He looked past the open entryway where the green fields stretched out to the horizon, meeting the sky.

And we run

And we run

And we run

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

Taglist: @jonahlovescoffee @bessonbae @hiya-its-amber @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

#Daniel seavey #Daniel seavey imagines #seasons change

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carelessannie · 3 years

Text

maybe it goes like this: tony courts peter (part 2)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

Read on A03

Read the Stuckony backstory WIP

Starker focus (Tony x Peter), Winteriron (Tony x Bucky), with reference to Stucky, Stony and Stuckony

This is the “meet... awkward” for my AU, and takes place roughly 8 months before the first chapter. Enjoy!

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, OmegaSub!Peter, BetaDom!Tony, OmegaSwitch!Bucky, AlphaDom!Steve, Heavy Awkward Flirting, Cute Nicknames, Kinda Sexy Winteriron

Maybe it goes like this:

8 Months Earlier

Peter is looking forward to seeing his Pack after class, definitely needing to cuddle up with Annie in their nest tonight. And maybe Clint will bring home pizza. It’s been a long-ass day.

Okay, definitely pizza.

From the front of the class, Peter can hear his professor introducing the guest lecturer, and he drags his backpack around to his seat to unlock his laptop and notebook. Just as he logs in and dates his notebook page, Peter looks up to see the most attractive man in New York walk through the door, smile to the class, and introduce himself.

Tony.

Tony Stark?

No Way. The Tony stark?

Peter's ears ring, and he swears he sinks three feet into the floor.

Mr. “just call me Tony” Stark is saying something about BioMolecular Engineering, about class credit, about new processes in the industry, about independent research opportunities, about the— wait.

Peter jerks in his seat, mouth ajar, as The Tony Stark lists benefits of working in his research lab for Stark Industries, a dream Peter has nursed since high school. He barely hears the rest of the presentation, focusing on closing his mouth and blinking, keeping hot Arousal out of his scent, adjusting himself in his pants—

“—and I’ll take questions up front if you have them, thanks."

There’s a round of lazy applause, as students start to pack up and file out, and Peter shakes himself, You have to talk to him. He scribbles a few questions on his notebook and throws everything into his backpack, floating across the classroom and to the back of the line.

When he finally steps up, both of them freeze. Peter restrains himself from scenting the older man right there in the classroom because hot damn .

Peter lets out a short gasp of “hellomynameisPeterParker,” thrusting his hand forward, and is pulled in for a firm handshake, Tony Stark looking into his eyes with a vaguely amused expression.

Peter lets go, reluctantly, and stutters out, “M-mr. Stark? I think I’d be interested in the semester research opportunity.”

“Of course, Peter Parker,” Tony turns and grabs a StarkPad, scrolling briefly before handing it over to Peter, “if you want to fill it out today, feel free. It’s an equal opportunity research grant, and provides a weekly stipend for the duration of the program.”

Mr. Stark continued with details, as Peter quickly puts his information in the application and presses “submit.” He peers up at the older man, Beta? Probably? Most of what he can scent is spice and fire– maybe cinnamon, or chai like Clint? It’s hard to tell without throwing his face into the man’s neck, and inhaling deep–

“Mr. Parker? Pete?”

Peter’s head shoots up, and he realizes he’s been still for too long without responding, and immediately goes to apologize, “Oh, I-i’m so sorry, Mr. Stark, I just… I finished the application? Shouldn’t I submit– or, sorry– send in a resume? Sorry.”

Mr. Stark keeps his expression schooled, but Peter can tell that he’s holding back a smile. Dammit Parker, way to nail the first impression. He shifts on his feet, biting his lip as Mr. Stark shakes his head slowly.

“No, it’s okay Peter. Our admin team will review the first round of applications by department, and send out an email link for further information, alright?” he gives into his smile, reaching out as if to... what, comfort Peter? But aborts the motion and crosses his arms, flexing slightly under his navy suit.

“Do you have any other questions, Peter?”

“No, n-no not right now, sorry, thank you Mr. Stark, sir. Um. Okay? I’ll see you later?” and Peter beats a hasty retreat out of the classroom, feeling his scent shift Embarrassed and hot tears prick his eyes.

Why does he always give a terrible first impression?

—

Tony stands, shocked in the empty classroom, schooling his scent and his breathing.

Thank you Mr. Stark, sir.

He collects his things in a haze, heading back to his pack and thinking about the gorgeous omega who just called his name.

Damn. His Alpha and Omega are gonna want to hear about this.

2 Weeks Later

Tony is straightening up the last few items in the R&D lab, hearing Pepper’s complaints of You need to care about your work space, Tony and You need to prepare a safe space for interns to work, Tony. And Pepper is right, of course, so Tony keeps cleaning.

He hears the doors swish open, and sighs, schooling his expression to neutral. He whirls around, raising his hands to defend himself against what he assumes is a new portion of nagging from Pepper, and instead–

The pretty omega from NYU.

What? “What are you–” Tony starts, watching as– Parker? Pete, Peter?– clutches a bag close to his chest, large doe eyes widening in shock and fear and… yup, there it is, FearShockEmbarassed Omega scent floods the lab as Peter takes a step backwards, lips opening and closing in shock.

“Hey, are you–”

“I’m so sorry, I–”

Tony shakes his head, stepping a little closer, “No, it’s okay, Peter? Right? From NYU?” with a nod in confirmation, Tony barrels ahead, “I thought you were– no, it doesn’t matter. Are you, are you here for the internship?”

“Y-yes, I’m sorry, they said to come at noon, but I thought I’d get here early and, god I can’t believe it, I’m so sorry, I’ll just wait– uh, wait outside?” Peter stutters through the explanation, lowering his eyes and backing towards the door to retreat into the hallway.

“No, like I said Peter, it’s okay, honestly,” Tony looks around quickly, trying to find a seat for the started young man, and yanks out the stool to his workbench, “here, sit down, please?”

There’s a moment of stillness as Peter looks between the stool and Tony, muttering something under his breath and setting his jaw in determination. Damn this boy is adorable, and Tony forces himself to keep a neutral expression as the om– the intern – walks across the room and sets down his backpack. Tony turns to the other side of the desk to give Peter some space, and clears the last of the notebooks into a nearby drawer.

He wants to start a conversation with Peter, fingers twitching in the unbearable silence, but is saved by the lab doors opening again, revealing Pepper leading five lost looking interns into the room. She leads so gracefully, he thinks, and feels his scent turn Fond and Proud for the Beta. Pepper sits each intern down, greeting Peter as well, and before he knows it, orientation and introduction are underway. The interns have their own work benches, and Pepper lets another supervisor take over the first day paperwork.

While the interns work in silence, Tony refuses to fixate on Peter, even though he takes to the research environment so beautifully. He's smart, he makes the funniest sarcastic quips when he thinks no one is listening, and he's kind of quiet, but always speaks up when he has a strong opinion.

Tony keeps his interactions unbiased among the other interns, mostly betas and one alpha, and is so relieved when the day ends and the students finally shuffle out of the lab. Peter ends up last to leave, staring at Tony and nervously licking his lips as he shoulders his bag. He seems to hesitate.

“Yeah, what’s up Pete?”

“Oh… no, right, see you tomorrow?” Peter shifts back and forth on his feet.

Tony smiles, “Of course, early bird,” and honestly can’t help his eye twitching, helplessly, in a wink.

Peter stutters out some type of goodbye, and flutters back through the door.

Tony blows out a breath, “JARVIS, call Bucky.”

—

“So what you’re tellin’ me is, you’ve somehow managed to find a smokin’ hot–”

“Beautiful,” Tony interrupts, “and compatible–”

“Right, smokin’ hot, compatible omega, and you… hire him?”

“I mean, technically I didn’t hire him personally–”

“Tony–”

“No, you know what, I get it. It’s my fault I can’t have him. But Bucky, I swear he’s so damn smart, and I can’t even let myself hope about his orientation,”

Bucky groans audibly over the line, but Tony protests again, “–because I swear he would submit so beautifully, Bucky, I can just see it. And remember how I said he called me sir?”

“How could I forg–”

“It’s all I can think about. I don’t wanna be overbearing, but I’m completely helpless around him and have no idea what to do. Bucky, I winked at him. Winked. And he ran away so fast.”

He can hear Bucky laughing at him over the line, that idiot, and Tony drops his head in his hands.

“Want my advice, sweetheart?” Bucky doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “I think you should take it slow and court ‘im. Sounds like it could be awhile before you can make anything official, and what is he, like eighteen?”

“... Twenty.”

“Okay, twenty. He probably isn’t looking for a permanent pack anyways, alright? Get to know ‘im at work, and as soon as you can, you should also put a stop to him seeing you as his boss,”

“Wait, but–”

“No, Tony. As much as it feels great for this little omega to call you ‘Mr. Stark’ and ‘Sir,’ if you want anything more with this guy, you have to work to even out the relationship a bit.”

Tony slumps down into a seat, sighing dramatically. Bucky goes silent as Tony processes what he’s saying. A thought occurs to him,

“Wait, is that how Steve got you?”

Bucky snorts, “Yeah, you know our Alpha’s ‘bout as subtle as a dump truck. His advice is gonna be, ‘sit the omega down, state your intentions to court him, communicate clearly,’ all that shit,” another laugh, this time fonder, “I’m just sayin’ to save that for later, okay? Take it slow.”

Heading towards the door, Tony signals for JARVIS to move the conversation to his phone as he heads home. He pops in an earpiece for the call, and makes sure Bucky is still on the line.

“Yeah, I’ll take your advice Bucky-bear. Hey, are you home?” Tony taps his foot as the elevator descends to the parking garage, feeling a familiar itch starting under his skin.

“Yeah I am, Steve’s out until later... why, what’s up?”

He gets out of the elevator, heading for his car, “I think all this talk of the perfect omega has me missing you. Wanna do something soft and dirty when I get home?”

Bucky hums, the sound sweet and tempting, even over the phone line, “Whaddya have in mind, my Beta?”

“Oh you know I love when you call me that,” Tony peels out onto the main road, heading towards their coastal property, their home, “I want you to contact Steve and ask him to pick up dinner, your choice. I’ll tell him what my plan is for you tonight, so he won’t be surprised. I’ll be there in thirty-five minutes and want you in the red room, ready to play, understood?”

Tony can hear Bucky breathing quicker over the phone as he responds, “Yes, Beta.”

“My good omega. And for now, let’s not tell our Alpha about Peter. Not unless it gets serious, okay?”

“Mmm okay, Tony. Hurry home,” and Bucky ends the call.

Tony steps on it.

#starker #winteriron #stuckony #stony #stucky #tony x peter #bucky x tony #d/s fic #light d/s #meet awkward #getting together #fluff #MiGLT #omegaverse

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sadachmesarthim · 3 years

Text

i’m impatient, this is a small excerpt from my coffee shop au. i don’t feel great today and a bit of whump-to-fluff domesticity is exactly what i need, so i’m sharing !

The first panic attack Peter was present for was terrifying.

‘Tony.. Tony, come on, you gotta open up. Talk to me.’

Tony stormed out of the bathroom, tears streaming down his face. It wasn’t like him - crying. He didn’t cry, he was a man. He didn’t need to cry. He turned, leaving out the garage. ‘I’ll be back later.’ He never specified when.

He wasn’t gone terribly long. He came back, silent and cold. The light was gone, behind his eyes. Like it’d just been... stolen.

Peter called Maria while he was gone. Thank god for those stupid dog tags, or Peter wouldn’t have known who to call. ‘Are you sure nothing happened? It’s not like him to just storm off like this, Mrs. Stark.’ She was less than helpful, more accusatory than anything. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be his best friend? Why don’t you know?’

Peter hung up.

When Tony came back, he avoided the subject entirely. Peter opted for something a bit easier than words: he reached underneath Tony, scooping him up and carrying him to bed. He was already fairly ready - no shoes, wallet and keys on the table in the living room. Peter tucked him into bed, calling Loki to come up with him.

‘Go take care of our boy, Loki.’ Tony just sat back, staring at the ceiling.

‘I’m gonna lock the house before I leave. I hope you feel better in the morning.’ He turned, prepared to turn the hall light off, when he heard Tony’s small, shaky voice from behind him -

‘You gonna come back? Tomorrow, I mean?’ Peter stopped in his tracks.

‘I’ll always come back to you, Tony. You know that.’

•|||•

And, true to his word, he came back in the morning - early enough to get to work before Tony finished his first shift. He wouldn’t be off until noon, giving Peter plenty of time to lay out his surprise.

He’d spent the last few hours scribbling on a pad of orange sticky notes and carefully placing them around Tony’s room. After the... episode he’d had last night, Peter thought it’d be a good idea to leave little reminders here & there - that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to hide, or lock himself away from the rest of the world if he wasn’t okay.

He also had lunch going - noodles prepping in a pot, chicken and asparagus in the oven, sauce reducing on the back burner. It was a good way to get Tony fed without giving him a way out. Tony never said no Peter’s food, especially right after a shift. It was the perfect set up - sure, he might be cornering Tony a bit, smothering him with affection...

Peter’s thoughts were interrupted by a particularly pathetic whine. He looked back, playfully snapping at dog behind him. “Hey, asshole! Use your words!” Loki had been pacing in front of the back door, whining. He hadn’t been outside in a while, it made sense he’d need to go. Peter stood, walking over to let the poor pup out before he made a mess.

Normally, he behaved for Peter. Fairly well, actually! Didn’t jump on the couch, stayed out of Joan’s room even when the door was open. He even knew to wipe his paws before coming back inside. He was a smart boy, but he still had his moments.

Apparently today’s moment was jumping the fence, and bolting for the driveway.

“Oh, hell no, dude, the fucking stove is on!” Peter turned and ran for the front door. Loki was smart, and fast - he only had a few seconds before Loki’d be down the block. Except...

Saved by the bell - Tony’d just pulled in. He must have heard the car. Loki was at the top of the driveway, tail wagging and barking like wild. Peter just rolled his eyes, making his way back into the house. Loki’d meet Tony in the garage the second he got out of the car. Not my problem anymore, Peter mused. At least he could finish up in the kitchen, and not chase after the oversized puppy.

Peter heard the telltale chirp of the alarm system - Tony was inside, Loki not too far behind. Tony came in through the hall, sniffing the air gratefully. “Smells good, what’d you make me?”

Peter snorted, indignant. “I didn’t make YOU anything, mister. I made US lunch - homemade Alfredo noodles, asparagus, chicken. Sound good?” Tony’s stomach rumbled. “Apparently! When’s it done?”

Peter smiled to himself. “After you go clean up, you smell like a roasting plant. What’d you do, fall in the grind bin? Oh, make sure to check your room out before you shower!!”

Tony padded away down the hall, shoes scuffing against the hardwood. He’ll have to sweep later.

Peter finished mixing the pasta in with the sauce, cutting the chicken into bite sized chunks. He turned back to the pan, happy at the thought of Tony feeling better. Peter hated seeing him upset, and last night was the worst he’d ever seen.

He didn’t hear Tony walking back into the kitchen, but he felt strong hands wrap around his waist. Felt hot, slightly wet lips press kisses to the side of his neck. He must’ve seen his room. Peter brought a hand up, gently stroking the side of Tony’s cheek with his thumb.

“Thank you.” It was sincere - apparently, he really needed it.

“Of course. You know I’m not going anywhere.” Tony sighed into the affirmation. He wasn’t used to this, this... affection. Reassurance. It was... it was raw. Nice.

“I love you.” Soft enough, it almost went unheard. Peter turned his head, kissing Tony’s forehead. “I love you too.”

He finished lunch while Tony showered, thoroughly pleased with himself. The asparagus was just crispy enough, the chicken moist and flavorful. It was like something out of a dream. He was proud.

Tony came out of the bathroom as soon as he dried off. He was shirtless, lower half just barely covered by low-slung jeans. Peter hadn’t seen this much of his bare skin since before he went to visit Rhodey. Jesus, it should be illegal to look that good. He’d gotten darker while he was out of town - Arizona looked good on him.

He walked out, stocking feet preceding quick tap tap taps on the hardwood. Loki came bounding out from the hallway, turning and leaping into Peter’s arms. He might have been a big boy, but he still thought he was a lapdog. Case in point - he tried (and very often failed) to jump straight into people’s arms.

Peter failed to catch him, hitting the floor unceremoniously with a very excited pibble in his lap. “Hey, asshole! Call your son for me!”

Tony laughed. “Oh, so he’s MY son when he’s misbehaving, is that it?”

“That’s exactly it! He gets his naughty behavior from YOU, and he’s been a shit all day!” Indignant as he was, Peter wasn’t serious. He knew that was a trait both of them instilled in the puppy, and both of them desperately needed to work it out of him.

It was endearing, but puppy kisses often didn’t have limits. No limits usually ended up with puppy tongue in your mouth, up your nose, in your ears... He was a work in progress.

Instead of conceding, Tony sat down next to them, pulling Loki into his lap and off the thoroughly kissed-out other man. Peter pulled himself upright, leaning against the sink for support. “I quit! I resign my place as a parent, that dog is never gonna learn!”

#.mine #.text #.excerpt #starker #loki is actually not the loki you’re thinking of #that was genuinely the name our pibble came with #and we just kept it #i miss him :(#he was cute i’ll maybe post pics later #(maybe)

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unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix · 3 years

Text

“The Tall Man” Rewrite

Summary: A few additional moments and scenes from “The Tall Man” episode.

A Jemily comfort fic again, this time with JJ.

Read on AO3

“Breakfast is served.” JJ set out two plates of wheat bread, scrambled eggs, and green grapes for Henry and Michael.

“Now what do we say, boys?” Emily said, appearing from the kitchen behind JJ.

“Thank you,” their sons said in unison.

“You’re welcome,” JJ answered.

Emily held two cups of coffee for JJ and herself, kissing the blonde’s cheek when she gave one cup to her. JJ smiled and thanked her wife.

“Any special requests while we’re here?” JJ asked the boys.

“May I have some ketchup with my eggs?” Henry piped up first.

Michael followed after, “Can I have lime juice?”

Emily and JJ looked at each other before bursting into laughter. “Lime juice?!” the blonde mother playfully exclaimed. “What? On your eggs?”

“I’ll go get some,” she said, ruffling her youngest son’s blonde hair and going to the kitchen.

A buzz was heard from the kitchen table and Emily took a look at her phone, receiving a text from Penelope. As she read the message, her eyes widened. JJ’s not gonna like this, she thought and clicked her tongue.

On cue, JJ came back with a glass of lime juice for Michael and saw Emily’s worried expression. She frowned at her, “What’s wrong? Is there a case?”

The older woman slowly nodded, “Yeah. Penelope just texted.” JJ took the phone from Emily and looked over the message. Her body stiffened and eyes widened as memories flashed back to her. “East Allegheny,” she blinked.

“Your hometown,” Emily stated.

JJ sighed. “I swore I would get out of there and never go back.”

“Look, Jen, if this is all too much, I’ll tell Penelope to look after you,” Emily offered. JJ told Emily before that she never wanted to go back to her hometown because it brought too many painful memories for her. Emily respected her wishes and kept her word.

The blonde shook her head, “No. I have to go. Right?”

“If you feel it’s right,” Emily gave a neutral answer, knowing she can’t control her wife’s decisions. “The case is in the woods, two girls missing. In Dead Man’s Conservatory.”

“Wait, wait. Where?” JJ backtracked Emily’s words, looking at the text again.

“Dead Man’s Conservatory. Is that important?”

Emily pinned a victim’s picture up on the clear board. “Ok, so let’s roll with this for a second. Bethany has a secret boyfriend. He doesn’t want to be exposed, neither does she. But then, Chelsea gets her hands on something neither one wants her to have.”

“Yeah,” JJ nodded. “I think I know what they were looking for."

“Right,” JJ absentmindedly responded, nodding.

“So, the jewelry has to be the key to all of it. What motivates them to this extreme?”

All of a sudden, Emily’s voice becomes a little distant to JJ. The blonde conjures up a memory she had been locking away in the past as she nodded along to what Emily was saying.

“JJ?” Emily’s voice became soft when she saw her wife distracted, her professional voice breaking.

The blonde looked up at her, breaking through her cursed memory.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The unit chief gave her a sympathetic look with her eyes softening.

JJ blankly stared at Emily for a few seconds, contemplating on telling her why she’s been off during the whole case. She lightly shook her head and bit her lip.

“Look, ever since we took this case, all of these…” she exhaled out a breath before continuing, “memories are coming back, and they are not good memories, you know.”

“About Roslyn?”

“Yeah. Like, that morning she took my father’s razor,” JJ started. “I found her. And I just stood there. Frozen. For probably 10 minutes. It’s like my brain couldn’t, um, comprehend what I was seeing.”

She started softly crying at the memory, sniffling. “You know, sometimes l think- I think that’s why I took this job. So I’d always know what to do. So, I’d never freeze again. So, can you- can you give me something to do, Emily? Because I am starting to freeze up again,” JJ’s voice cracked as she blinked her tears away.

Emily checked to see if the office door and window blinds were closed before stepping closer to her blonde wife. She knew it wasn’t the appropriate time or place, but she wrapped her arms around JJ's back and pulled her head close to her chest. JJ reciprocated by wrapping her arms around Emily’s waist and quietly sobbing into her body.

“Shh, shh…” the older agent cooed. “It’s ok, just let it all go. I’m right here.” She rubbed her back in a soothing manner.

“I miss her, Emily,” JJ cried.

“I know. I know," Emily kissed the top of her head. After a few moments, JJ calmed down and slowly pulled back, wiping away her tears.

“Are you ok?”

JJ nodded and cleared her throat, “I think so.”

“Ok,” the unit chief softly kissed her lips and JJ relaxed in the contact. The younger woman gave a small smile, “Thanks.”

JJ was staring through Chelsea’s hospital room window as rage started to build up in her body. She gripped onto the necklace she had taken off when Chelsea pointed it out to her, instantly coming to a realization when she did.

Emily pulled back and nodded. She ran her fingers through JJ’s soft blonde hair, tucking some behind her ear. She then picked up a file. “Luke and Tara are going back to Ally. They are going to use the EMDR technique on her. It’s supposed to be especially effective with schizophrenics...”

“JJ,” Emily called out, walking towards her.

“They had to induce a coma, and we misjudged,” JJ turned to her wife. “The boyfriend, we thought he was a teenager. A peer. Well,” she bitterly chuckled. “He’s older. Much older.”

“How do you know?”

She held up the necklace to Emily with angry, trembling fingers. “Chelsea saw this around my neck. The look in her eyes was recognition.”

“The jewelry the unsub gave Bethany,” Emily noted, piecing together what JJ had found.

“Same one. He gave this to Roslyn, who gave it to me. God only knows how many other girls there’s been since then.” She shut her eyes and gritted her teeth, “I have been wearing this around my neck, his trophy, this whole time.”

Emily cautiously reached out to the blonde. “JJ, we will arrest him.”

JJ had just handcuffed Ethan Howard, their unsub, Roslyn’s older boyfriend and killer and brought him out of the interrogation room. A betrayed Bethany slapped Ethan across the face before being taken into custody as well. JJ, Emily, and Rossi watched as the young girl and unsub left. Emily laid a comforting hand on the small of JJ’s back, and the younger wife eventually relaxed in her touch.

“I know,” JJ nodded. “But when we do, I’m gonna need you to keep me away from him, because if I get a chance, I swear to God, I will kill him.”

“You good, JJ?” Rossi asked.

She nodded, “Yeah.”

“Come on, honey. Let’s go,” Emily softly said and the three walked away. As they were walking to the doors, the unit chief intertwined her fingers with JJ's to comfort her.

JJ and Emily came back home. Emily paid the babysitter and checked on the boys in their rooms. She gave each of them a forehead kiss and smoothed their hair down before going back to her and JJ’s room. JJ let out a heavy sigh and dropped her bag on their bedroom floor before lying down on the bed. Emily laid beside her and pulled her body close to hers. The blonde rested her head on her shoulder, and the older woman ran her fingers through her hair.

JJ took out the gold necklace and ran her thumb over the heart locket. She didn't know what else to do with the necklace. It was her sister's. It held so much meaning to her. So, she put it back inside her pocket and squeezed Emily's hand for reassurance.

“Emily-”

“Shh. Just get some rest, ok? We had a tough case. You did,” Emily whispered.

"I just-" JJ sat up and ran a hand through her hair. "I almost didn't save Bethany in time. She- she would've become… his next trophy. I couldn't save Roslyn then. Bethany could've ended up like her."

Emily sat up, too, and reached out to touch her wife's hands. "JJ, this is not your fault, ok? Don't put yourself down like this."

JJ nodded and sighed, “I’m sorry.” She slumped her shoulders and glanced down at their joined hands, playing with Emily's gentle fingers. "I just really miss her. Ros always gave up her time for me, helped me whenever I got hurt, and… I looked up to her a lot. I even wanted to play soccer because of her," she smiled fondly at the memory of her sister. “She even told me I was a badass."

Emily chuckled along with her, “Well, she’s right. You are a badass.” She kissed her lips and pulled back to look at her. "Roslyn would've been proud of what you did with the case. You did her justice and she would’ve been grateful for that."

JJ slowly nodded and bit her lip. Emily’s right. She did bring justice for her sister, and Roslyn would’ve thought it was badass. The blonde agent quietly chuckled to herself as she remembered Roslyn's words from before, "...he'll know not to mess with Jennifer Jareau. 'Cause she's a total badass.”

"Now, get some sleep. You need it," Emily's voice quietly broke through and JJ felt herself being pulled back down. She laid her head on Emily's shoulder and snuggled back into her body.

The next day, Emily was in her office, fixing a small black box for her wife. Earlier that noon, she had used the last 15 minutes of her lunch break to “run an errand” at the jewelry store, leaving a confused JJ behind because she usually ate with her. When Emily was done with her finishing touches, she went outside her office to see JJ at her desk, concentrating on her reports.

Emily let her wife fall asleep first. She thought about the necklace JJ had before they learned it was a painful and awful reminder of what happened with Roslyn before. She noticed JJ taking the necklace out at the police precinct and made a mental note to go to the jewelry store tomorrow.

“JJ, I need to see you for a moment,” Emily called out across the bullpen, using her stern unit chief voice.

“Ooh, looks like you’re in trouble, JJ,” Matt joked, looking up from his paperwork. JJ playfully rolled her eyes and shook her head before heading upstairs to see her wife.

The blonde profiler followed Emily into her office, closing the door behind her, “What’s up?”

The unit chief grabbed the box from her desk, “I got you something earlier while you were busy.”

JJ took the box from her and slowly opened it. She quietly gasped at the sight. It was a gold necklace, similar to the one Roslyn gave her, but there was a minor difference. The locket was not heart-shaped, but a different one.

“Blackbird,” JJ noticed and looked up at Emily.

The unit chief nodded and pointed at the locket, “Look what’s inside.” The blonde picked it up from the box and opened the locket, revealing two pictures: one of Henry and Michael on one side and the one of Roslyn and JJ on the other side. Emily had enlisted some of Penelope’s help with the photos to fit the locket size. Tears started to form in JJ’s eyes as she ran her thumbs along the pictures inside.

The older woman softly smiled, “I hope you like it.”

JJ nodded and smiled, “I do. I love it so much.” She kissed her and Emily grabbed the necklace from her hand. The blonde wife turned around, brushing her hair aside. Emily clasped the necklace closed when she put it around her neck.

JJ turned back around to face Emily and looked down to toy with her new necklace. She gave a tearful smile and kissed the brunette for a few seconds, resting her forehead against hers after, “Thank you, Emily.”

Emily smiled back, “For what?”

"For understanding. For being there when I needed you," the blonde answered, playing with the fabric on the shoulder of her wife’s work shirt.

"I will always be here for you, JJ. You know that," Emily kissed her forehead.

“I know. I love you.”

“I love you, too, JJ,” the older woman said and pulled her into a tight embrace.

JJ smiled and kissed her again, this time deepening it. She lightly pushed Emily against her desk and her hands blindly found her boss’s belt buckle, attempting to undo it.

“Babe, we have work to do. Those reports aren’t going to finish themselves,” Emily murmured and chuckled.

“Mm-mm, I want to properly thank you,” JJ said, kissing Emily’s jawline. “I’m determined to make you finish first.”

The brunette lightly laughed and pulled away, with JJ slightly frowning at the loss of contact. Emily kissed her cheek and offered to make a deal, “How about this? We get off work at around 5, so I’ll let you have your way with me then.”

JJ’s eyes lit up as she nodded. She kissed her one more time and hugged her again. JJ rested her head on Emily’s shoulder as her fingers played with the blackbird locket again.

The blackbird was very significant to JJ. Not only did it mean a code for danger to her, but it also meant courage and change. JJ thought about how she grew up the person she is today, but she couldn’t have done it without Roslyn in her younger years and Emily in her older years. Her sister helped her learn how to find herself when she was younger, and her wife built JJ to become the stronger version of herself later on. It’s no wonder why Emily chose a blackbird for the locket. It’s because that’s how the unit chief saw JJ: hopeful and brave.

#jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #roslyn jareau #jemily fic #tw suicide

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maybebanks · 4 years

Text

A Smile

JJ Maybank x reader

Warning: Luke being creepy (angst)

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A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at a sleeping JJ, his breathing was soft and slow. He was calm, for the first time in weeks. But then again, he was sleeping.

You brushed his hair off of his forehead, his blonde hair slightly damp, for there was a lack of air conditioning in his house.

After spending the night at a kegger, both of you were too drunk to be rational, JJ knew your parents wouldn’t approve of you drinking, so the only other option was his place. (John B said no)

You were only a new friend to JJ, but as soon as you two met, everything clicked. Your personalities through your banter, and you couldn’t forget about the constant mindless flirting.

Deciding that noon was a good time to wake up, you poked his chest, hoping to wake him up.

“JJ,” you whispered.

He groaned in response, moving his hands over his eyes.

“Aw c’mon! You promised me you would teach me to surf,” you giggled, nudging him again.

“You remember that? We were pretty hammered last night,” he mutters.

You pry his hands away from covering his face, “get up,” you demand.

He slaps your arm, “don’t tell me what to-“ but then he looks at you weirdly, in a shock and confusion, then he lifts up the covers to the bed, looking under.

“What are you doing?” You chuckle, he looked slightly flustered. But quickly calmed down.

“Just..checkin’,” he answers, shortly.

“Checking for what?” you groaned, now stepping out of his surprisingly comfortable bed.

“If we...had sex or not,” JJ replies, nonchalantly.

Your eyes widen, “as if, Maybank,”

He rolls his eyes, then gets up and throws on a boat t-shirt.

You were wearing your top from last night, with a bikini under, it reaked of alchohol and weed.

You pulled at it and sniffed, “Ugh! JJ did you smoke on me or something, this smells like ass,”

“You think ‘I smoked on you’? Girl you crazy, maybe your drunken memory is not so good after all,” JJ shrugs, throwing you one of his clean shirts.

You catch the shirt, “No! No way. I don’t smoke,” you attempt, trying to convince yourself.

JJ laughs quietly, “you did smoke. And didn’t cough once! I’m proud of you babe,”

“You are corrupting me,” you mumble, turning around and pulling off your shirt.

“Damn,” JJ whispers.

You whip your head around at him, he is looking at your chest as you change, thankfully you had a bikini on, but still.

“JJ, f you,” you insult and finish getting dressed.

JJ opens his bedroom door and you walk out, he doesn’t follow you, instead goes into the kitchen.

“Your not gonna walk me out? How rude,” you joke.

“Who do you think I am? A gentleman?” He responds, causing a laugh.

“Not even close,”

“Shit! I think the hose is on!? I gotta go outside and turn it off, see ya later, and meet at the cove for surfing at 6:00,” JJ calls, then jumps out the side door.

You smile at the thought, surfing with the best surfer in the OBX, though you would never tell him that.

You continue to leave, opening the second screen door to the porch. Soon after, you realize you aren’t alone.

You gasp loudly at the figure of a man, he is wearing a tan t-shirt and is turned away, working on something mechanically.

You stumble over a small beer cooler, and land on your butt on the ground.

He turns sharply, his expression seems to be masked. He has a smirk on his face, then he turns off his machine.

He approaches you. You shuffle quickly to your feet again.

“Hello, pretty thing,” he compliments, but it only makes you nervous, “what are you doing here?” He says the last part angerly.

“Um..so sorry to bother you Sir, I was just leaving,” you apologize, then reach for the door.

“Not so fast,” he orders, then approaches you, his steps echoing on the wood floors.

You freeze, not knowing much about JJ’s dad, but being terrified of his vibe.

He reaches towards your face, tracing a finger down your cheek, “pretty girl,” he repeats, moving his finger down your arm, then tugs against your shirt.

“Sir-I really have to..I should. Can you please..stop? Please,” you whimper.

“This is my boy’s shirt. You spent the night, didn’t you. So you come under my roof, and expect to just sneak away like the slut you are!? Huh?! Yeah my boy can fuck you, but he will never love you. So stay the fuck, away bitch,” he yells, his teeth were grinding together, his face inches from yours.

His hand grip your waist harshly, you cry out in pain. Feeling violated. He stares you down.

“We didn’t have se-“ but before you can finish, he has shoved you out the door, not even giving you a final glance before returning to his work.

You didn’t have a car, so you just started to walk. The tears hadn’t came yet, you felt numb. If JJ’s father could say those thing, do those things, was JJ capable. And the things he said, would JJ never love you?

After what felt like hours of walking, you see Kie, she is laughing with John B, they are alone.

Every bone in your body is telling you to hug her, get help in the state you are in. But you felt hopeless, would she see you just as JJs dad did? After all you were still wearing JJs shirt.

Checking your watch, the clock read 5:59. You were suppose to meet JJ by now. No matter how much you wanted it at first, the mere idea of being with JJ right now made you weak in the knees.

So, abandoning everyone, you headed home. Locking yourself in your bedroom for the next day or two.

—

“Have y’all heard from Y/n? I haven’t seen her in two days,” Kie asks, a worried expression readable on her face.

“She blew me off for surfing the other day,” JJ adds.

“Guys I’m worried, can we go to her house, check on her?” Kie asks.

“Sure, I’m cool with that,” John B approves.

“Didn’t she say not to ever go to her house?” Pope reminds. In the past, you told the pogues to never go to your house, your parents were disapproving of them.

JJ rolls his eyes at Pope, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

—

JJ knocked one your door for the fifth or sixth time now. Your parents weren’t home, but you were. Trapped in your room, trying to ignore them.

“Maybe she’s not home?” Kie questions.

“Oh she’s home. She just...avoiding us or something,” JJ responds between knocks.

Finally, you roll out of bed.

“Fine! I’m-coming!” You shout. From inside, it hurt your head to yell, but your brushed it off. It was the standing up that was the worst.

You haven’t eaten in a day in a half, you felt weak and light headed.

“See, I told you,” JJ responds.

But as soon as you make it down the stairs, your vision blurs to black, seeing stars.

In seconds, you collapse onto the floor.

A loud thud stops JJs bickering, all of the pogues freeze in worry.

“Y/n?” JJ asks slowly, “y/n are you okay?” He repeats suspiciously.

No answer.

“We’re coming in okay?!” JJ warns, then attempts to open the door, knowing something is off.

The door clicks and pulls back, locked.

“Open the door!” John B demands.

“I’m trying!” JJ exclaims.

Kie grabs JJs arm, “lets go to the back!”

Luckily, the back door slid open with ease, and JJ and Kie rushed inside, instantly seeing you, on the floor.

“Oh my gosh, is she breathing?!” Kie shouts, JJ checks your pulse.

“Somethings wrong!” JJ exclaims, noticing odd details like the fact that you are still wearing his shirt.

“Pope! Call 911!”

“I think she’s breathing!”

“You think? Shit! Come on Y/n, stay with us,”

—

The hospital monitor beeps slowly. One after another.

JJ and the pogues wait outside. His head is in his hands, recalling a memory.

“You’ll be okay JJ,” Y/n assures, smiling. JJ had just been beaten up. You had brought him to the hospital, despite his protests, it was what he needed.

“Excuse me Miss, what is the name? We’d like to inform his parents,” the nurse asks. JJ’s hand squeezes yours. His eyes communicating something to you he couldn’t say with his words.

“Um, this is James.” You reply.

“Last name?” She asks impatiently.

“Dean.” You reply, she eyes you suspiciously.

“I know. Weird coincidence.” You add.

“A number I can call?” The nurse asks.

Then you gave the nurse your number, later answering the call in a fake old lady voice and telling the hospital that the son James Dean, was okay. Later you even covered the hospital fines. JJ never told you how greatful he was.

The nurse approaches and informs all of the pogues that Y/n was going to be fine. Just fainted due to lack of fluids and food in her body.

After an hour, you were cleared to leave.

Later in the day, JJ forced you to eat a huge burger. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to eat, just that the lingering feeling of wrong was washing over you when you were with JJ, with anyone.

1 day later

You and the rest of the pogues were at the Chateau. You still were acting and feeling off, but no one pointed it out.

JJ went to his house to drop off his surf board, it was taking longer than it should.

But after 20 minutes, JJ approached and entered the Chateau. Shocking everyone.

No one spoke, they could only stare at JJ’s cuts and bruises.

“Wh-what happened?” You feared you knew exactly what happened.

“Nothin’, just ran into my dad,” he shrugged, but his jaw was clenching angerly.

A shiver struck through your spine.

“You’re dad hit you?” You asked, looking around to see if anyone else was shocked by this. They were just solemn.

“Yeah. Sorry my life isn’t a perfect story like yours is Y/n! Sorry I’m fucked up! God you really should look at yourself, the pogue princess act is getting real old,” he insults.

You look at him in pure confusion, why was he talking it out on you. You had enough heartache at the moment.

“What the hell JJ!” Pope shouts.

“This isn’t her fault,” Kie points out. But this only adds to his fury.

“Ohh, this IS her fault. She went and saw my dad, WITHOUT my permission and now he thinks...god I don’t even fucking know. I just know you shouldn’t have done that,” JJ seethes, looking at you with something close to hatred.

Your eyes began to water, his insults seemed to be true, you only ran into his dad, not on purpose.

“JJ- I didn’t... he... I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen!” You couldn’t form words, you couldn’t stand up for yourself.

“Idiot! You’re such an idiot!” He groans.

John B steps up and grabs JJ by the shirt, “how was she suppose to know about your dad when you didn’t even tell her. Dude, get out. You need to chill out somewhere else,”

JJ scoffs, giving everyone a dirty look before leaving through the front door.

He kicks over something in the lawn.

Stunned, everyone stares at you, you feel small, weak, and horrible for causing JJ to get beaten by his dad.

Instantly, you jump up, following after JJ.

“JJ wait! I ran into him on accident ! It was after I slept over at your place. He was there. He made me,”

“He made you what?” JJ said, a little softer now.

“He made me talk to him, he thought we had sex. That’s why he was mad. I tried to tell him the truth but he....” you stop yourself when your breathing becomes difficult.

“Did he touch you? Y/n, did he? I swear to god if he touched you-“

“No, he didn’t JJ I’m fine, I’m sorry I made him hurt you. I’m sorry,” you apologize, wanting to hug him, but something was restraining you.

“Shit!” He curses, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m really sor-“

“Stop Y/n, just stop. You shouldn’t say sorry. It’s my fault. Come here,” he says, looking like he is about to cry.

You don’t move, you were scared he might touch you like his dad did.

He steps closer, and you step back.

He reads you like a book, “why are you lying to me Y/n?”

“I’m not,” you mumble. He grabs your shoulders gently.

“It’s me Y/n. JJ. I’m not him. I saw what he did to you, we had to go to the hospital for god sakes. So please, tell me the truth. Did he touch you?”

“I’m not lying,” you mutter.

“Jesus, Y/n,” JJ says, he looks at you again, “don’t hide from me, answer my question, did that bastard lay a hand on you?”

“I already feel shitty enough, can you please stop asking me-“

“Y/n. Look me in the eyes and tell me. Did he touch you? Did he hurt my girl,”

You can’t look at him, only able to mumble out a small, “yeah,”

At this, JJ wraps his arm around your figure, you return the hug, only soft cries leaving your lips.

#jj maybank #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #obx netflix #jj imagine jjxreader obx #obx jj maybank x you #outer banks #outerbanks #obx jj #jj outer banks #rudy pankow #jj maybank x y/n #luke maybank

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modern-vellichor · 4 years

Text

In Her Blood; Four

Summary: The camping trip opens old wounds for everyone.

Pairing: DadsBestFriend!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: murder(not really but its insinuated), mentions of suicide, angst!!!, age gap relationship, mentions of ptsd, uncomfortable family situation, bad father figure, smut, blood play if u squint

Masterlist ||

The next morning you pack the cars. Bucky throws his case in the trunk of your car.

"you riding with me?", you ask.

"yeah, Sarah wants to drive with your parents. Didn't wanna leave ya alone", he shoots a tight lipped smile in your direction.

A look of disappointment flickers on your face, but its soon replaced by a playful and childlike grin.

"okay", you giggle.

You hop in the drivers seat, Bucky buckling himself in next to you. You pull out after Sarah and your parents, following them the whole way there.

Early 2000s punk plays through the stereo. You bang your head lightly, mouthing the words to old Blink 182. Bucky chuckles softly to himself at the sight.

After an hour you pull into a garage. You leave Bucky in the car and meet Sarah at the door to the shop, you take her hand playfully and rest your head on her shoulder while you walk in. Bucky smiles.

You come back with two cokes and a bag of different snacks. You slide in next to him with a smile and a chuckle. You launch a sandwich and the coke at him, he laughs.

The rest of the drive is silent. Only another hour or so.

You arrive at the site by noon, a small enough cabin and a beautiful lake, the dark woods framing most of it.

You take your sisters hand, leading her to the room you're sharing. Your laughs echo through old, damp wood.

Sam and Steve take the master, Bucky is left with the small guest room at the end of the hallway.

The group recollects just as the sun is going down, the sky painted bright pink and orange, a gloomy forest casting haunting shadows on the site.

The fire crackles quietly while you eat. Sam tells childhood stories, the rest of you laugh and nod along. Bucky cant help but let his gaze wander to you.

Then you're pulling off your top and running towards the lake, Sarah close behind you. You're laughing as you dive gracefully into the dark water, barely making a splash. When you resurface, your head breaks in the centre of the lake. Bucky laughs, so do your parents.

You and Sarah play for a while, swimming and diving and bringing up rocks and little shiny things you find.

The first night is peaceful. Morning arrives and Steve, Sam, and Sarah go for a hike. You stay at the cabin, you sketch the rustic view from your window.

The next evening, you all sit around the fire. You drink and you laugh, you shoot Bucky soft looks all night. Its homely and peaceful. Then you pull the box of cigarettes from your pocket, you let the flames lick it alight and retreat to the edge of the lake. You're out of the way, but Steve still sighs.

"are you kidding?", he snaps at you. "now?"

"Steve", Sam mumbles, trying to calm him down. "she's all the way over there, leave her". Its to no avail.

"those things kill you, you know", he barks.

"just like you", you murmur under your breath, he cant make out what you're saying. You make yourself small, nursing your cigarette.

"what did you say?", Sarah and Sam both start trying to calm Steve, you stay silent. "answer me, Y/N!"

"stop, you're scaring Sarah", you mumble, Bucky stands up and begins to approach, ready to jump in if needed.

"This isn't about Sarah", he's shouting now. You snap then.

"It's always been about Sarah", you crush the cigarette under the toe of your boot. "I never minded when daddy got angry, but Sarah always cried when he shouted"

"stop it!"

"Remember when you broke that plate, Sarah thought daddy got the gun from the loose floorboard and shot her sister dead. Sarah who thought daddy was gonna kick Y/N out, Sarah who thought she was gonna find Y/N dead on the bathroom floor", you shout with a sick smile, you advance on him as Steve stumbles back. He throws empty threats at you, but you don't listen.

Sarah begins to cry and Sam has to carry her inside, he closes the door behind her and runs back to Steve. He pulls Steve away by the bicep and you turn back to the lake. You sit by the waters edge, lighting another cigarette as Bucky sits next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and he wraps his arms around you, he coos softly, half expecting you to cry. He's confused when you don't. It's a strange comparison, how Sarah went screaming, but you stood still, quiet.

"what happened, kotenok?", he purrs, soft and sweet.

You stumble over your words for a moment, "Sarah has always been more.. sensitive", you whisper, smoke drifting from your lips. "She's always been more prone to breakdowns and crying and things"

"you're like Steve, he's a suffer in silence kind of guy"

"like father like daughter, eh?"

He chuckles softly, "I guess so, yeah"

You sent him away after a while, choosing to sit by yourself. You sat there until the sun started to rise, the time Steve would normally go out for a walk. Sure enough, he came and tapped you on the shoulder.

He smiled down at you apologetically, offering his hand. You took it.

"wanna come for a hike?"

You nodded with a smile and followed after him, a few steps behind.

"I'm really sorry, about last night, about everything actually"

"its okay", you mumble, not wanting to get into it.

"I'm proud of you, you know", you stopped at his words, stunned. "yeah, I was just like you when I was young. I wanted to go to art school. I know I made a big deal of you dropping out, but I'm proud of you"

You gave a genuine smile as you hugged his side, he mumbled an 'I love you' into your hair and the two of you continued hiking in happy silence.

Sarah wasn't talking to either of you, you couldn't bring yourself to face her either. So while she was outside that evening, you slipped into your shared room and grabbed some spare clothes before trudging down the hall and knocking on Bucky's door.

"Hey", he chimed, when he took you in, he was slightly confused. "you okay?"

"yeah", you chuckled, mumbling slightly. "can I stay in here?"

He was more than happy to let you sleep in his bed, the two of you curled up together behind a locked door. He ran his hands through your hair, stroking his knuckles softly over your cheek. He traced the curve of your nose, the outline of your lips, even the line of your collarbones.

You kept your eyes closed, just let him admire you. You only opened them when he tucked himself against you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You loosely slung your arms around his shoulders, tracing your fingertips over the plates of his metal arm. You hummed when they clicked and whirred softly under you touch.

"you're so soft", he mumbles into your skin.

You chuckle in response, "what?"

"no one is ever gentle when it comes to that thing", he shrugs his left arm as he speaks, you watch in admiration as all the plates click in succession.

"I think it's interesting", you whisper. "It's actually kind of pretty"

He laughs at your response, but he doesn't realise that your sketchbook is filled with icy blue eyes and a shiny collaboration of vibranium where a limb should be, all sketches of varying degrees of completion.

He lifts his head to gaze at you, just for a moment before hes craning his neck to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips, you eagerly return. He crawls his way up the bed, cupping your face in calloused hands, now you're craning your neck. He slowly rolls himself on top of you, snaking one hand to the back of your neck. You kiss, because that's all you can do, with your parents right down the hall.

Eventually he falls asleep and you slip out of his grasp, finding scrap paper and a pen. You sketch the broad expanse of his back, taking extra care to map out his scars just right, you search for all the paper thin scars and the ones that look like freckles, you sketch them too. He's a beast of a man, you should be scared of him, but you aren't, you've got him wrapped around your finger.

The next morning he slides into the passenger seat next to you, you smile at him. He rests his hand on your thigh, occasionally wandering higher or pinching the soft flesh, sometimes he leans in and peppers feather light kisses to your cheek. He gently bites at your neck, making you whimper and whine behind the wheel.

When you finally pull into his driveway, he insists you come in. You wave at Steve, gesturing to Bucky's open door, he throws you a thumbs up.

You shut the door gently, and Bucky's on top of you in seconds, hand on your throat, pinning you to the door, you whimper.

"it's okay, kitten", he growls, "I won't hurt you", you stay silent. He presses soft kisses to your cheek, trailing them across your jaw and down your neck, and then he lands on your pulse point, and he bites down hard. You yelp, and he pulls you up the stairs.

He does the same thing when he has you caged against the bed, his hands massage your thighs as he trails loving kisses down your neck, before sinking sharp teeth into your pulse point, making you gasp.

He does it again once he's buried deep inside of you, one hand prying your thighs apart and the other holding your wrists above your head. He mumbles words of praise between kisses; "such a good girl for me, taking everything I give you", then he clamps sharp canines into your neck again, only this time he tastes blood.

It's a welcome taste on his tongue; warm and metallic, and strangely familiar.

When he's finished, panting and glowing in soft evening light, you examine him closely. He smiles down at you, and he wonders what you're looking for.

"you could tear open my throat, and let me die in your arms", you whisper, but you're only half here, your mind has wandered, but he knows you still expect an answer.

"I could", he says plainly, accepting of the fact that you were so fragile compared to him, that he could rip you up and tear you open and let you bleed out in his arms.

"why don't you?"

"I'm a sucker for art girls", he whispers jokingly, but when you gaze up at him, he can see that theres something bigger at play in your mind, so he takes a deep breath and tries again. "you're soft, and familiar, and you make everything a little bit better. Why would I kill the object of my affections, when I could just mark her, make her mine, and have her forever", he words it as poetically as he can, desperate to satisfy whatever thirst you needed to quench.

You nod slowly, taking in his words. Then you roll away from him and pick your jeans up from his bedroom floor, you fish around in your pockets before you pull out a carefully folded piece of paper and hand it to him.

It takes him a while to realise what it is. It's one of your sketches, he identifies that immediately. But then he realises that its him, it's his back, the night you slept in his room at the cabin. He looks at it more closely, ogling at the detail and the perfect placement of every imperfection staining his skin.

He takes you in his arms, and presses a soft kiss to your pulse point, blood seeping slowly onto his lips.

'his', you think, and a part of you wants to never let him go, and another knows that eventually, you'll need to.

@vicmc624 @adriannajackson @zizzlekwum @chipilerendi @madaroni37

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky imagine #bucky fic #dadsbestfriend!bucky #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

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mcwriting · 3 years

Text

sweet home alabama (1)

Here’s chapter 1!!! I hope you all enjoy!

Story Masterlist

Word Count: 2178

Warnings: Really mild language and mentions of alcohol consumption

∆

“Tom! Tom! Over here, Tom!”

The 23 year old actor tuned out the voices of the paparazzi and ignored lights flashing as he walked up the sidewalk.

For the first time in 5 years, he was finally headed back to where it all began: his tiny hometown in Alabama. With his private charter leaving at noon, Tom had known the paparazzi would be unavoidable, but he was still annoyed by their insistence.

When his team finally made it in the doors, he breathed a sigh of relief, but still felt a turning in his stomach at the thought of returning after all these years.

He hadn’t exactly left everyone on the best of terms.

He chose not to dwell on it though, instead saying a few goodbyes and loading up with his younger brother, Harry, who had been back and forth since his own high school graduation and knew what to expect back home.

One could tell by the way Harry’s accent stuck and Tom’s hadn’t, taking on a more neutral midwest sound to hide his roots. He wasn’t necessarily proud of it, but it sure did keep him from being typecast.

With one last sigh, he turned and waved to his agent and bodyguard, getting a quick glance at the city around him before stepping inside the cabin.

This was going to be interesting.

∆

Y/n took in a deep breath as she dug a spade into the earth, just beneath a cotton plant.

She was out in the middle of one of the hundreds of rows on this particular farm. The soil she had collected was scooped into a small plastic jar, which she then labelled with the date and location.

It was the beginning of summer, early June, and already pretty hot. Even though it was starting to become dusk, y/n guessed around 5:30, the stiff jeans and long sleeved button up she wore to protect from any excess pollen, as blooms were beginning to form, made her hot and thirsty.

She stuck a little dowel with a pink flag tied to it in the hole, filling in the dirt around it so it stood up straight before she got herself up.

When she stood, her unbuttoned shirt allowed some airflow over her tank top, but her back was still wet with sweat. Although her hair was pulled into a bun, the wispies that fell from it also stuck to her neck uncomfortably.

She began the walk back up to her truck, which was parked in the driveway of Melanie’s home, one of her childhood friends.

As she was organizing the fresh jar with the multiple others in a cardboard flat on the floorboard, Melanie stepped out onto the front porch, leaning over the railing.

“Hey, y/n!” she called. Y/n shut the door and turned around, wiping her brow as she leaned against the old pickup.

“What’s up, Mel?”

“You comin’ to Alan’s tonight? I gotta feeling you’ll want to.”

Y/n furrowed her brow. Alan’s was the town diner where everyone liked to convene on evenings, when it would transform into a bar. Friday nights were especially popular with those in their 20s and 30s. It was predictable who would show up each week, but Melanie’s tone indicated something unexpected was to happen tonight.

“Oh yeah? And why d’you say that?”

“I won’t spoil anything,” she answered, hands up in mock surrender as she stepped off the porch. “So you in or not?”

“Melanie, it’s a Friday night… I wouldn’t miss it for nothin’,” she replied with a wink, both girls laughing. “I just need to drop this box at the S.H.E.D. and clean up a little. Is 7 good?”

“I’ll see you then I guess. But don’t do too much work before you come have fun, alright? I need my pool partner to be on her A-game!”

They both laughed again as y/n waved her off, hopping into the cab. As she drove towards home, she couldn’t help but ponder on what Melanie had said.

∆

“Aw come on now, y/n! We can’t all be good at math and angles and all that!” Harrison exclaimed, annoyed that she had won yet another round of pool.

“Haz, I don’t know when you’re gonna give up. I’ve beaten you about a hundred times now and I don’t think I’m gonna stop any time soon,” she replied, earning a cheer from the crowd around her. It probably didn’t help him that she wasn’t even buzzed yet.

Once y/n had rinsed off at home, she’d changed into some skinny jeans, boots, and a tight sleeveless top to meet Melanie for dinner in. After dinner, the sun had finally set and the bar was hopping, as usual. Y/n’s friends always packed around the pool table when she went up against someone, especially Harrison.

Someone went up to a chalkboard nearby, marking another tally by her name in the record for most wins so far in the year. Harrison had the next highest number, which was still 15 behind her.

It was all in good jest, though, as the close friends clinked beer bottles and drank to officially finish the game.

Just down the street, Tom and his younger twin brothers, who’d somewhat recently turned 21, walked towards Alan’s.

“Man, the last time I was in here I was swiping a couple beers for me and…” he trailed. The happy memory ended when he remembered who it was with.

“Yeah well now we’re all legal,” Sam cut in. “And you’d be surprised at who you see around these parts.” He stepped forward and opened the door for his brothers, allowing Tom to step inside first.

Y/n, Harrison, and Melanie were laughing and talking when the usual bar chatter got louder, with a few “he’s back!” and “welcome home!” shouts ringing out.

Her friends were facing the door with eyes wide, already knowing that Tom was coming, but unprepared to see what might go down when y/n realized it.

“What the hell has gotten into you two?” she jokingly asked, but her face fell serious when the pair pointed their heads to the door and raised their brows.

When she turned around and saw his face, it was like the world stopped.

∆

The whole “we’re gonna be in love and get married” thing had worn off by the time y/n and Tom got to middle school, but they still remained closer than ever, trying to fight the new territories that came with puberty.

There was a few months’ period when the two couldn’t handle the emotions that came with growing up (and being best friends with the opposite sex), but eventually they came around and chalked any “crush” feelings up to hormones.

Who would have guessed the feelings would stick?

But it takes a long time to figure that kind of stuff out.

Instead, they began the journey of exploring what it meant to grow up with other people; new friendships and school crushes forming, awkward dances and learning what it meant to have a real “boy-girl party.”

Y/n and Tom had thought it would be just like any other hang out that they liked to have, just with more people.

Playing 7 minutes in heaven at a friend’s barn changed that.

They both acted disgusted at the idea of being shoved in a closet full of horse tack to make out, but curiosity got the best of them and they ended up being each others’ first kiss. It was only a peck, but neither could stop blushing until they got home.

It wasn’t the beginning of a story, but it definitely wasn’t the end either.

And this was only one of the hundreds of memories flashing through y/n’s head as she looked at her former best friend across the bar.

∆

Y/n gulped heavily, staring at the actor who had come in through the door.

“What is he doing here?” she asked quietly, looking between her two closest friends. They averted their eyes. “Y’all knew he was coming, didn’t you? And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“We didn’t want you to skip coming tonight. It’s been five years, y/n. Maybe he’s changed?” Melanie replied gently.

“Well he’s definitely changed,” y/n added as she looked him up and down, her tone indicating a different kind of change than Melanie had implied.

Tom was looking around waving as everyone greeted him, Harrison brushing past y/n to greet his childhood pal and blocking Tom’s view from her.

“Thank you, guys. You all didn’t have to do all this!” Tom said, everyone noticeably taken aback by his accent. Sure they’d heard him in movies, but not many people in town knew he had officially dropped his southern twang. He also wore skinny jeans, an expensive brand-name tee, and most noticeably, tennis shoes rather than boots.

Y/n leaned back on the pool table’s edge and swigged on her beer, trying (and failing) not to roll her eyes.

“Oh Lord, he thinks this is a welcome home party. There’re more people here last week than tonight,” y/n commented, causing Melanie to elbow her and laugh.

“Don’t talk too loud, now,” she giggled.

Tom hugged Harrison excitedly. He had flown the guy out to a couple premieres, but now it had been over a year since the pair had seen each other. When they separated, Harrison slung an arm over Tom’s shoulder, motioning his hand around the bar.

“Miss this place?” he asked as Tom scanned the room.

Tom couldn’t answer straight away as his eyes suddenly met y/n’s. His face lit up and he smiled, y/n offering back an awkward grin and wave, turning around to answer something Melanie said.

“Uh. Yeah, you bet I did,” he finally said, eyes still trained on y/n.

“Just go talk to her,” Harrison said, knowing exactly what Tom was thinking as he pushed the actor forward a bit.

After straightening out from Haz’s shove, Tom came up to y/n.

Melanie was mid conversation with y/n when she saw Harrison’s move.

“He’s comin’ this way,” she warned y/n, who took one last deep breath, rolled her eyes, then plastered on a smile before turning around.

Tom was taken aback when y/n turned to face him, a warm smile on her face.

“Uh… h- hey,” he said apprehensively. “Funny seeing you here.”

“Hey, where else would I be on a Friday night?” she asked smoothly, chuckling. “Sooo… how’ve you been? You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself these days.”

“Yeah, yeah I have been. And what about you? What have you done for the past 5 years? I never hear anything anymore.”

Probably because you don’t care to look y/n thought.

“Oh, well. You know. Finished college last year. Been workin’ ‘round the farms in town. Pretty boring stuff, I’m sure.”

Tom nodded, eyebrows raised. Y/n could see right through his feigned interest. She always could read him like a book.

“So what are you doing back here?” she asked him after a pause.

“You haven’t heard? I got cast in a role about farming so what better way to get into the role than to come do it for real at home!?” Tom answered excitedly.

“Oh, I see. That’s great. You gonna drive your granddad’s cattle or collect eggs or something?”

Tom’s parents had never been farmers in his lifetime, his dad owning the local town grocery store and mom running a clothes boutique across the street. There were other places to buy goods, too, if you wanted to make the 45 minute drive to the nearest Walmart, of course.

Y/n’s, on the other hand, were. They raised livestock in conjunction with her mom’s parents and siblings, something that ran in the family and would one day be passed on to her cousins.

“I might help him out some, but my brothers have a lot of that handled. Maybe Haz’s fam will let me do some work on the peanut farm.”

“Doin’ what? They just planted a couple weeks ago, Harrison ‘n Charlotte just finished spreading straw, and harvest ain’t till September at the earliest. There’s nothing you could do.”

Tom’s brows furrowed.

“Oh. What about cotton?”

“If you’re lookin’ to work cotton, blooms are startin’ to form and it’s lookin like we might have an early harvest in August this year. I’m sure daddy would love some extra hands to water everything while I’m at work,” Melanie piped up. Y/n looked at her smug smile with wide eyes.

“Really? You’d do that for me? Thanks Mel. That’d be amazing. I’ll even work for free.”

“Well if you’re gonna work for free then I don’t even gotta ask him. You’re hired! We’ll see you bright Monday mornin’?” she asked, getting an affirmation in reply.

“You know, it was nice talking to you guys but I should probably visit with some other people,” Tom started to say, then turned directly to y/n. “Hey we ‘oughta catch up some time. Whaddya say?”

Y/n gave another tight-lipped grin and nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Once he stepped away towards the guys again, y/n let out a deep sigh and turned her back to him again, looking at Melanie.

“What was that! You know I’m still in the middle of research at your farm!”

“Look, he needed a job, I gave him one. Hell, he’ll probably quit after an hour of hard labor and gettin dirt on his precious little hands,” she laughed, causing y/n to crack a smile. “And what was that smile you had on your face, huh? I thought you hated him still.”

“Oh believe me I do. Can’t no one say Tom’s the only actor to come out of this town,” y/n said, causing both girls to laugh as they went back to their drinks.

∆

A/N: ahhhh here’s ch 1! Posted a little later in the day than I was hoping but I’m glad I got it out there! Hope you all enjoy!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, @mortallythoughtfulgurl, @onebigolemess, @justafangirlduh

#Sweet Home Alabama #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #Harry Holland #sam holland #harrison osterfield #tom holland reader insert

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emy-loves-you · 3 years

Text

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 12

Starlight, Star Bright

Virgil’s list of crushed is growing, but why do they seem so familiar?

Chapter 11 | Masterlist | Chapter 13

The next day, Virgil found himself walking up to Puppy Pastries. He had texted a standard “Good morning” to his crushes before leaving to go flirt with Angel. He decided not to tell his crushes about Angel. If he had any chance with the three of them, it would be immediately lost the moment he told them about his new crush. Part of him was worried that Angel would recognize him as Anxiety, but so far there was nothing on social media that hinted at Anxiety even living in Florida. So either Angel didn’t recognize him, or he knew and decided to respect Anxiety’s privacy. Even though it was probably the first option, Virgil felt his blush grow at the thought of Angel caring that much.

Virgil entered the cafe at 11 AM, scanning the people there. Today was obviously a slow day, with only 3 customers throughout the building. As Virgil made his way to the counter, he saw the same worker from yesterday- Katherine, if he remembered correctly. Katherine’s eyes widened at the sight of him, and she quickly turned to face the kitchens. “Boss!”

“Yes, Kyle?” Angel’s asked, still obviously caught up in whatever he was doing. Kyle? Virgil glanced around until he saw a blue pronoun bracelet on Kat- Kyle’s wrist.

“That one guy from yesterday? He’s back.” Virgil heard the clunking of pots and pans before Angel came out covered in flour, wiping his hands off with a blue dishtowel. He wore a light blue apron with the Puppy Pastries logo written in cartoonish white letters.

Flirt Mode: Activated.

“Hey there, Angel.” Anxiety purred, leaning up against the counter. “Did you just lose a flour-fight or something?”

Angel blushed, looking down at his apron. “Nah, I just spilled a little, that’s all.” He looked back up, a slight scowl on his face. “Now, why did you tip $100 on a free meal, Kiddo?”

Anxiety smirked. “Why did you give me an extra muffin, Beautiful?”

“Because I almost broke your nose with a door!” He near-yelled, clenching the towel in his hands. He must really be beating himself up about this.

“And you cleaned me up and gave me an ice pack.” He glanced at the cup of lollipops on the counter, priced at $1 apiece. He took a dollar out of his pocket before grabbing the lollipop, quickly unwrapping it to stick in his mouth.

“It was the right thing to do! You still didn’t have to tip!” The guy looked close to hyperventilating. Anxiety sighed, pulling the lollipop out with a quiet pop.

“Listen,” he said, lazily gesturing with his lollipop. “Tipping you was my decision, got it? I was gonna tip anyways, if only because Kyle made my friend’s monster drink without complaint. And I shouldn’t have been standing in the doorway, either. So don’t blame yourself, cutey.” He turned to Kyle, who seemed to be watching them talk like it was a tennis match. “One medium chai tea and a… blackberry muffin, please.”

“On the house!” Angel yelled before Kyle could list off the price. “You’ve already paid enough to have breakfast here for at least the whole week. Let me make it up to you, please.”

Anxiety sighed, pulling out his wallet. “Angel, if you don’t let me pay for this, I’m just gonna tip again. You’ve already made it up. Stop it with this guilty shit or I’m gonna have to do something drastically expensive.” He and Angel had an intense staring contest before Angel huffed, going back to the kitchen. Anxiety paid for his breakfast before walking out the door. “Nice talking to you Angel, Kyle!”

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Virgil sighed as he finished his muffin. It wasn’t quite noon yet, and the streets started getting a little more hectic with people on lunch break. Virgil walked aimlessly down the street, having planned nothing beyond visiting Puppy Pastries. He stopped at a random library, deciding to take a look inside. Lo’s Birthday is in a few weeks. I’m already getting him chocolate, but maybe something in here can give me ideas?

Virgil strolled through the library, trying to find anything on space. He eventually found a section tucked away in the corner. Even though the section was near impossible to find, it was definitely popular, judging by the massive array of books on the shelves. He quickly grabbed the first book he saw and opened it up, skimming it to see if it might interest Lo. His heart sunk as he realized something.

“May I be of assistance?” Virgil’s eyes shot up, staring at the man in front of him. He had dark brown hair, brushed neatly out of his face. He wore a pair of square glasses, which perfectly framed his dark blue eyes. He wore a black button-up shirt with a perfectly straightened navy blue tie. He also wore a pair of dark wash jeans that perfectly hugged his-

Flirt Mode: Activated

“There are many ways you could help me, Beautiful.” Anxiety purred out, closing the book and putting it on the shelf. “But unless you know anything about space, you can’t really help me with this problem.”

If the man realized that Anxiety was flirting, he didn’t acknowledge it. “I happen to know a great deal about space. I have read the majority of the books in this section. Now, what is this problem of yours?”

Anxiety sighed, carding a hand through his hair. “My friend’s birthday is in a few days, and I need a present for him. I know he really likes space, so I was hoping I could find information in one of these books. But then realized that I don’t know anything about space beyond the names of the planets.”

The man sighed. “That is a problem.” He turned to the shelf next to Anxiety, pulling out a giant paperback book. He then handed it to Anxiety. “This book gives simplistic descriptions of most of our universe’s known types of celestial bodies. If you are only learning this to find a proper gift, this will be your best choice. If you need any further assistance, I will be here until 2 PM.”

Anxiety smiled, giving the man a casual two-finger salute. “Thanks, Starlight. I’ll let you know if I have any questions.” Starlight blushed at the nickname before walking away.

He stayed at the library for around 2 hours, taking pictures of what he found interesting and finding Starlight when there was something he didn’t understand. Every time he asked a question, Starlight would get a certain shine in his eyes as he spoke passionately about the topic at hand. Starlight would stop every few sentences to make sure that he understood, and every time Anxiety would give his own recap while flirting. By the time they were finished, Anxiety felt confident enough to hold a decent conversation about space, and Starlight’s cheeks were bright red.

It was now 1:45 PM, and Virgil was ready to head home. He put the book back on the shelf and went to the front desk, where Starlight stood helping an older woman. He waited until the woman left before approaching. “Oh, did you have another question?”

“Nah, just wanted to say goodbye before I head out. Thanks again for the help. Will you be here on Monday? You know, in case I have another question?”

Starlight smiled, typing something into the computer. “Yes. I am here from 10 AM to 2 PM every weekday.” He paused, looking up at Anxiety’s face. “I’ve been meaning to ask all day, and I don’t mean to be rude, but what happened to your face?”

Anxiety cringed, hand flying to cover his nose. Even though it’s not broken, his nose was still an ugly shade of purple. “I fought a door,” he joked, “the door won. Catch you later, Starlight.” And with that, he walked away.

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The next day, when Virgil gushed to Janus and Remus about how cute both Angel and Starlight were, they were cackling with laughter. He ended up sending another box of chocolates to Logan, if only to talk to someone that wasn’t laughing at him. They spent the weekend debating whether or not Pluto was a planet. Logan wasn’t quite sure how to respond to Virgil’s main argument of “Viva La Pluto Fuck You.” Virgil, on the other hand, was extremely thankful for those questions he had asked Starlight over Dwarf Planets. Every time he saw Patton or Logan take a moment to respond, he imagined how they would look in that moment; Patton’s face would be bright red from giggling. Logan’s would be bright red from Patton’s teasing puns. They would be curled up on the couch, their glasses shining from the bright light of their phones-

Wait a minute, why the hell was he imagining them with glasses? Sure, it would probably match their aesthetics (especially Logan’s nerdiness) but they’ve never mentioned wearing glasses. So why was he imagining it? Virgil thought for a few more minutes before he sighed, going back to their conversation. The increase in social interactions must be triggering his overactive imagination. That makes sense, right? Virgil smiled. Lo and Starlight would be proud of him, finding logical and rational reasoning instead of freaking out.

But why did that thought make him feel so… uneasy?

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst

#useless gays #sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders

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empyreanwritings · 4 years

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Just a Little Complicated

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Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Florist AU)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: mentions of losing a parent

A/N: Y’all, I actually managed to write a one shot, are you proud of me? Please be proud of me LOL! This is written for @marquiswrites 100 followers challenge! I am super duper late, and for that I really am sorry. You probably have already reached another milestone by the time I’ve posted this. But yeah, go give them a follow cause they deserve it!

Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated (: x

Sweat stuck to the back of Steve's shirt. He cursed himself for not getting a car already, but he didn't anticipate the southern heat being so brutal. The last thing he wanted was to go into places covered in sweat and ask for a job, but he had no choice. He couldn't afford to live off what the government deemed enough for a veteran to live on; he wasn't going to go off on that tangent, but it really was ridiculous. He almost gave his life for a country, and they acted like enough money to survive comfortably was a nuisance.

Many places gave him the same response when he asked if they were hiring: "Thank you for your service, but we just don't have an open spot!" Some of the managers hid their disdain for his lack of perfect hygiene. Not all of them, though. He could see the judgement in their eyes when he came in sweaty with a service dog in tow.

He was more than capable of handling any job, but he couldn't stop others from having their judgement. He was used to it back in the city.

But he refused to make a fuss about it here.

The last place he tried for the day was a small flower shop on the corner of the street. The entire shop window was filled with flowers of every color, and the windowsill was painted mint green. It contrasted greatly against the brick exterior, but Steve liked the way it looked; it had a quirky charm that many of the snooty "antique" shops didn't have.

And when he saw the bright yellow door with the name "Mama June's" written above it, he was sold.

Organization didn't exist in the shop, that was apparent the moment he stepped into it. Flowers, vases, and ribbons were scattered in groups throughout the different counters and containers. It reminded him of a wildflower field - chaotic yet oddly appealing.

An elderly woman rounded the corner, dirt covering her hands and arms. She let out a small 'Oh!' when she saw Steve before brushing her hands against her apron and offering one to him.

"You're not my daily lunch delivery!" She chuckled. "I'm June. Haven't seen you around these parts before - stayin' or passin' through?"

"Staying, hopefully." His smile made her smile in return, and the corners of her eyes wrinkled in the endearing way Steve always loved seeing in his own grandmother. "Steve Rogers, ma'am. It's nice to meet you."

She swatted his arm gently. "Don't you ma'am me, mister! I ain't that old yet!"

June - or Mama June, as she liked to be called - a whole foot shorter than Steve, but she acted like she was the tallest person in the room. Her round face showed her age in the way she wrinkled by her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Steve remembered something his mom used to say, "I don't get why women want to hide their laugh lines! It shows they lived a happy life!" And June clearly felt the same way.

She filled up a water bowl for Dodger and placed it down by his feet, which Steve quickly thanked her for. The poor boy wasn't used to this level of heat either.

"What can I do for ya?"

"I was hoping to see if you were hiring, ma-" She shot him a look that warned him not to finish his word, and he cleared his throat. "Mama June."

"Mhm, that's what I thought you were going to say," she hummed. "You ever work for a florist before?"

He shook his head, already preparing himself for the rejection. The closest he ever got to be a florist was helping pick out the flowers for his mother's funeral. It wasn't exactly his favorite memory.

"Well," she pretended to look around the empty shop and let out a dramatic sigh, "As you can see, we're pretty busy! I don't need much help up front, but I could use the help on delivery days. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday - that work?"

"Anything works for me. Thank you." He wanted to hug the woman for giving him a chance, but she would have probably kneed him. She was feisty.

The bells on the front door clanged as someone walked in, pulling their attention away from each other. June was just about the greet the new guest, but she was already being interrupted.

"Mama, you know you are supposed to be watching your cholesterol!" You scolded June as you set down a take-out container on the front counter. "My mother would turn over in her grave if she knew I was letting you eat the diner's burgers."

You sighed when June waved your comment off, and Steve let out a chuckle. The two of you must have known each other for a long time. The way you moved around the shop made it seem like you knew the layout like the back of your hand.

"And who is this?" Your eyes turned towards Steve, and he wasn't sure how to breathe when he noticed how they sparkled. Despite sweat and the grease stains on your diner dress, you were easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. And it wasn't until your eyebrows practically raised to your hairline that he realized he was too busy staring to introduce himself.

"This is my new helper!" June replied for him. "Steve's gonna help me around here on delivery days."

You gasped in mock surprise. "You're actually letting someone help you? Has Hell frozen over?"

"Stop it. I'm never to turn away someone in need, and my back has been actin' up." You whipped around, but June held her hand up. "Don't give me that look! I'm fine! I just can't be liftin' boxes the way I used to."

You shook your head, strands of your hair falling out of your bun. Concern was written all over your face. Steve couldn't help but wonder if you knew something about June that no one else did. Maybe she was sick, or just had poor health in general. Either way, he knew he was going to have to look out for the old woman when you weren't around.

You chewed on your bottom lip and finally turned back towards Steve after a beat.

"You take care of her," you said with a hint of warning in your tone. "I bring lunch every day at noon, so feel free to give a call before then to give me your order."

Steve smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

He was partially embarrassed 'Thank you' was the only thing he managed to say in your presence. Time overseas hadn't done much to help his charm when it came to women. Not that he would have instantly started flirting with you - he had manners - but still. He would have liked to appear smoother.

You left the shop almost as quickly as you entered it. June let out a laugh when she realized Steve had been staring at the door for a solid minute after you walked out. He wasn't discreet at all.

"I'll see you Wednesday, Steve," she nudged his side with her elbow, "Unless I see you at the diner before then!"

Her comment made her burst into another fit of laughter, and she grabbed her meal and headed towards the back before he could defend himself. He looked down at Dodger and shook his head. At least he didn't know how obvious his owner was.

Steve settled into working with June easily after that day. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, he'd be there at six in the morning to unload the boxes from the delivery truck. It was a lot more work than he expected it to be, but he enjoyed it. He loved being able to stay busy and feel like someone needed him.

Working in the morning gave him enough time to avoid the southern heat that always came by ten. He was thankful to have the cool AC to unpack the boxes in because he wasn't sure he'd make it the first week if June made him unpack them all outside. He'd probably end up worse than an ice cream cone melted on the sidewalk - and he had seen a few of those in the few weeks he worked.

But the best part about working had been you.

Every day you came in at noon, not a minute before or after. June said you had a thing about always being on time, and you never explained why. She had her theories about how you missed saying goodbye to your mom because you were late, but you refused to confirm whether that was true or not. And Steve didn't know you well enough to ask.

Throughout the weeks, though, he spent as much time as he could getting to know you. Some days were tougher than others; you didn't always like answering the questions he wanted to ask you, but other days, you were generous.

He learned the basics: your favorite color, the one movie that made you cry even after you've watched it several times, and what kind of toppings you liked on your pizza. And you liked asking him the deeper questions. What made him join the army? If he could go anywhere in the world, where would he go? Why did he prefer New York style pizza over deep dish?

The deep-dish debate lasted for an hour, and you only stopped arguing because your lunch break was over.

"I'll learn to forgive your poor taste in pizza if you tell me what your favorite flower is," he said one day when you didn't have to rush back to the diner.

You shrugged your shoulders and pretended like telling him your favorite flower was the worst thing he could ever make you do. "Aren't you the flower man now? I know June's been giving you some of her tips in flower arranging magic! You should be able to figure out what kind of flower I like the most."

It was a challenge, he realized later on. You could have told him what your favorite flower was and never thought about it again, but you wanted to test him. You wanted to see if he actually paid attention to the things you told him during your one-hour visits. Of course, Oblivious Steve had to be told by June that was what you were doing.

He made it his mission to make sure you left with one flower whenever he worked after that.

You'd come in with the styrofoam takeout containers, and he would wait for you by the front counter with a single flower in his hand. Every day he worked.

The first time he did it, you crinkled your nose at the sight of the single red rose.

"Roses are apology flowers," you tutted. "Are you trying to say you've cheated on me before we've even gone on a date, Rogers?"

The tips of his ears turned bright red in the moment, and it was something you and June laughed about for the rest of the week. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, but you didn't plan on stopping any time.

You were actually curious how long he'd hold out just to find what kind of flower you loved.

Most guys would have given up by the second try; you wondered if Steve Rogers was going to be like most guys.

But even after you rejected the lilies and chrysanthemums and sunflowers, he still kept trying. He reminded you, in the most teasing way possible, he worked with a florist and had an endless supply of different flowers. He swore he'd find the one to make you swoon eventually.

When June came to you one morning and asked you to be nice to the man, you playfully rolled your eyes and reminded her that no good love story started out easy. You hadn't realized the words left your lips until June's eyes started to sparkle and she gave you the secret smile that reminded you of your mother. Steve Rogers made you think about love - something you hadn't thought about since your mother passed away.

Hell really must have frozen over then.

The next day Steve worked, after your conversation with June, your heart sunk when you realized there wasn't a flower in his hand. His focus was on an inventory sheet, which was a part of his job, but you expected him to take a break for his usual time with you. You thought that maybe he grew tired of trying to woo you.

Maybe it was too difficult.

Maybe you were too difficult.

But then he held his hands out and told you to wait in your spot, and you couldn't stop the grin from spreading across your face when he pulled a white box from behind the counter. It was small, probably didn't hold more than the bud of a flower or several flowers. And it had a black ribbon wrapped haphazardly around it.

You made a mental note to remind June to teach the poor man how to wrap ribbons around boxes and vases. He may have only unloaded the delivery trucks, but he deserved to learn the basic stuff.

You gasped when you opened the box and saw the Black Dahlia. How he managed to guess was one thing, but how he even managed to get the flower was another. You knew June didn't carry them in her shop because of how rare and expensive they were, which meant he went to a lot of trouble to make sure he had it for this moment. He went through a lot of trouble for you.

"How-"

"Mama June told me a good florist never reveals his secrets," Steve teased.

"You know, these flowers are supposed to represent betrayal and negative emotions. It's why a lot of florists don't like to use them in bouquets; it takes away their magic," you said with a small smile, your focus still on the flower sitting in your hand.

Steve shrugged. "I think there's magic that, don't you? Finding the beauty in the things that people say are bad."

"Are you saying I'm bad, Steve Rogers?" You murmured, not at all taking offense.

"Not bad, darling, just a little complicated."

#marquiswrites100challenge #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers au #florist au

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atc74 · 4 years

Text

Soul to Souls - Twelve

Warnings: Pregnancy, fluff, confrontation, angst, more fluff, language, more visions...or dreams? Sam’s issue is revealed, and a cliffhanger!

Summary: Since she was four years old, Annaleigh has seen the same boy in her dreams. For twenty-five years, she grows to love the boy that has now turned into a man. Dean Winchester just lost the only family he has ever known. The guilt drives him to work harder than ever before. He works to forget the pain, until he meets Annaleigh and she turns his world upside down. What she learns changes both of their lives forever, but what will he do when he discovers the truth? Will he accept it or run back to the only life he has ever known?

Pairing: Dean x OC Annaleigh

Word Count: 1683

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, @katehuntington, thank you both for being my guides! Dividers and new cover art by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89, Impala divider by @writeyourmindaway.

A/N: This was my very first series I ever wrote four years ago in September 2016 and I am so happy and proud to bring this back home. We’re halfway there folks, but we’ve barely gotten started!

Y’all are getting two chapters in three days! I am trying to get back on my normal posting schedule! Enjoy!

Soul to Souls Master List

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Anna had been awake for a few minutes now, not opening her eyes. She was perfectly content to just lay there and drift off again in Dean’s arms, one draped protectively over her middle, fingers tracing small circles on her lower abdomen. Deciding against falling back asleep, she rolled to face him and slowly opened her eyes to meet his gaze; his eyes were even more beautiful in the morning light, shining like emeralds in the sun.

“Good morning, Mama.” He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Good morning yourself, Handsome.” She buried her face in his neck, breathing him in, and sighed contentedly as he continued his patterns on her belly.

“Did you sleep well?” Dean inquired.

Anna sighed once more as she extended her sleepy limbs in a satisfying stretch. “Yes, I did. I feel rested and ready for the day. What about you, Babe?”

He laughed softly, placing his lips to her forehead. “I did sleep well, but I’ve also been up for quite a while now, y’know, thinking.”

She turned my head up to look at him. “How long have you been up? What time is it, anyway?”

Glancing at his watch, Dean answered, “I’ve been up since about seven. It’s now almost noon. The mother of my children needs her rest, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I’ve already changed Baby’s oil, washed her, and helped Bobby out in the yard.”

Dean kissed her again, and Annaleigh felt the familiar stirring deep inside her. She wrapped her legs around him and rolled until she was settled on top of his long, hard body. She deepened the kiss and felt him respond to her. His hands roamed up and over her back and into her hair as their tongues fought for dominance. Dean moved his hands back down to her hips, repositioning her until the friction was perfect as they rubbed against each other.

She pulled away and sat up trying to catch her breath when the sound of her empty stomach betrayed her raging hormones. She needed food. She bent over to kiss him quickly before rolling off of him and the bed.

“I am sorry, Dean. This time I need food more than I need you to scratch this itch,” she apologized, throwing him a quick wink, and headed to the bathroom to get dressed and brush her teeth. He followed her and leaned his tall frame against the door.

“Anna, I was thinking about our little secret this morning.” He kept his eyes on hers while she finished brushing. “I want to keep it to ourselves for a little while; just until we know for sure and we can get in to see a doctor.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that, too. I don’t want anyone else to know just yet,” she agreed. “I don’t want to give Bobby anything else to worry about right now. Or Sam.” She cringed at his name on her tongue. She made her way back into the bedroom to get dressed. “Besides, I want to see my own doctor. I am going to call today and make an appointment, okay?” Placing both her hands on his chest, she raised up on her toes to kiss him. “Let’s eat. I am starving!” She grabbed his hand and led him downstairs.

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“I think I can make that work. I appreciate you seeing me so soon, thank you very much, Dr. Ryan.” Annaleigh ended the call and placed her phone back in her pocket. She ate the sandwich Dean had left for her and wandered out to the shop looking for him. She found Bobby under the hood of his Chevelle.

“Hey, Old Man!” Anna called out, walking over to the side of the car to join him. “What are you doing out here? Where are the boys?”

“I sent them into town to get a part for me. Should be back soon.” He glanced over to her. “How are you doing, Annaleigh?” he asked, worry set deep in his eyes.

“I am doing okay today, Bobby. I feel rested and better than yesterday.” She looked away as she answered, leaning against the car.

“Girl, don’t lie to me. I can see right through you,” he challenged.

“I don’t know what it is, Bobby. I just feel like there is something off. With Sam, I mean. But I can’t put my finger on it,” she confessed, feeling better now that she had shared her doubts with someone else. “But, I don’t know how to tell Dean. Or even if I should tell him. I don’t like keeping things from him, but this isn’t mine to tell.”

He took a deep breath before he began. “I know what you’re talking about. I feel it, and honestly, I think Dean feels it, too. We still don’t know what rescued him from the pit, but he has been off since he showed up. I called in every favor I got trying to figure it out.”

“Bobby, he is cold and unfeeling. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when he looks at me, well, looks through me is more like it. Like he isn’t human. But you tested him, so we know he is, but it’s like something is missing…” she trailed off as her thoughts started running wild in her head. She turned and ran back to the house. “I will be right back, I swear,” she called over her shoulder.

“Can that really be it?” Anna was talking to herself now, reading the lore books she had found in Bobby’s collection. “Could it be that simple? Well, it’s not simple at all, really. It’s gonna be real fucking complicated,” she muttered.

“What’s gonna be complicated, Red?” She jumped when she heard Dean’s voice behind her.

“Um, I don’t know yet. But, I will let you know as soon as I figure it out,” she faltered, but quickly regained her composure as she turned to face her boyfriend, his green eyes locking with hers. “Hey, Babe? Do you think we can take off in the morning? I want to be home by tomorrow night. I talked to my doctor, and she can get us in the day after tomorrow, but it’s her only opening. She’ll be gone for two weeks if we can’t make it,” she informed him.

“Are you kidding? That quick? Yeah, we can leave now if you want,” he answered, even more excited than she was. Anna jumped up, throwing her arms around his neck, leaving a loud kiss on his lips.

“Great! I just have to talk to Bobby real quick, then we can pack up Baby and hit the road.” She ran out the door and back to the shop.

“Bobby! I think I got it!” She proclaimed as she rounded the corner into the shop but skidded to a halt when she spotted Sam perched on the cooler next to the Chevelle.

“Whoa! Where’s the fire, girl?” Sam quipped.

She eyed Bobby cautiously. He nodded and she continued, “I know what is wrong with you, Sam. I don’t know what pulled you out from Lucifer’s grasp, but I do know that it did a piss poor job.”

Sam stood, stalked over to her, and threw his arms out wide, in a menacing stance. “What the hell are you talking about?” He shouted. “There isn’t anything wrong with me! Have you seen me? I’m in the best shape of my life. I’m a better hunter than Dean now. I’m awesome!” he boasted.

“No, Sam, you’re not!” she protested, placing a hand up to stop him from advancing on her. “Something is wrong with you and I know what it is. Whatever, whomever, rescued you from the fiery clutches of Hell; they left a part of you behind. You lost your soul, Sam! Your fucking soul? Does that sound o-fucking-kay to you?!” she argued.

Sam stopped and stared down at her. “Huh, no wonder I don’t give a rat’s ass about anything. Not Dean; not you. Nothing. And, you know what? I fucking love it. I feel free. Don’t think you can go fixing me like you did my brother. I am not broken. But, he was and you made him weak; you gave him hope,” he growled.

“Weak? I rescued him when he was in danger of losing himself because of you, Sam! That doesn’t make him weak. Scars don’t mean a person is damaged, it means they survived. And, that is what your brother did. Without you! He survived because of me!” Anna stormed past Sam and over to Bobby.

She gave the old man a tight embrace and told him she and Dean were leaving, with a promise to figure out how to make Sam whole. She gave Sam one more glare, then went back to the house to pack her things so they could hit the road.

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The drive home took just over 18 hours, stopping only for bathroom breaks and fuel. Annaleigh fell asleep a few times; thanking God that Dean loved driving. She was snuggled up with her head in his lap, drifting off again.

“Hey, Beautiful. How are you feeling, Red? I got someone, well two someones, I want you to meet. Kids, say ‘Hi’ to your beautiful Mama.” Dean walked over to Annaleigh. She was in a hospital bed, wearing one of those terrible gowns. He gently handed her half the precious cargo he carried. She smiled, gazing at the bundle in her arms, and looked back up at him. He leaned over, placing a soft kiss to her lips. “I am so proud of you, Red. Look at what we did. We made these beautiful little people.” She knew she was crying, but they were happy tears. She took her eyes off the baby boy in her arms and looked up at Dean. He was crying too. He looked so incredibly happy.

“Red, I would like you to meet our son, Robert Samuel Winchester. And, this sweet little thing is…”

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Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Soul to Souls tags: @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @iwantthedean @jensengirl83 @deanwanddamons @smol-and-grumpy @kbl1313 @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean @princessmisery666 @shy-violet-soul @lastcallatrockysbar @winchesterxfamilybusiness @fangirlxwritesx67 @squirrelnotsam @michellethetvaddict @magssteenkamp @wonder-cole

#dean x annaleigh #dean winchester x ofc #dean x ofc #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut

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