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willowser · 2 years

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im on my hands & knees offering u all of my life’s earnings (approx. $24.55) for u to get back on your assistant!reader bs 💓💞💕💘💖 it is my favorite and I think about them every single day

spoilers for ch. 359+

you're clocking out later and later these days, and not so subtly.

on the afternoons that he's without a patrol shift, it's kirishima that's dragging you from the office, ushering you along with the quiet reminder that your boss wouldn't be too happy about the extra time you're picking up. the stacks of paperwork that you're letting eat into your personal space. how much of it you're trying to take home.

and he's right—but the filing isn't going to do itself and with katsuki out, it's only piling up further and further. the residual ghost of his punctuality is even more haunting when he's not at the agency; throughout the day, you find yourself glancing to the darkened glass of his office, watching the grimace grow on your own reflection. the last thing you want is for your dilly-dallying to stain him and his position as an employer, and if finishing the paperwork means staying an hour after the rest of the office empties—so be it.

your boss, however, doesn't see it that way.

the minute the front door closes behind you, you know you've fucked up; it's nearly eight in the evening, and you're just now arriving at his apartment, file folders held tightly to your chest. you take a scan around his living room and only allow yourself to breathe when you don't recognize the dark shape of him on the couch, which is where he's been sleeping a lot lately. because of his arm.

"don' wanna keep you up," is what he grumbles into the fabric of your shirt, mouth squished against the top of your shoulder as he crowds you in the kitchen. he's always been an early riser, but you're not so sure he's even resting to begin with; both his eyes stay bloodshot—even the good one.

the healing is slow going and you can tell it's eating away at him: to be at home and not at work, in the quiet of his apartment as you go off to do the bits of his job that you can. it bothered him even before he was injured, to see you sweating over his reports and the schedule and their delicate nature—and now you're three hours late, meeting notes in hand.

just as you let out a slow sigh, the floors creak, a low groan coming out strained and weary and, much as it chills you to be caught, worry kindles in your belly.

"katsuki?" you wait, eyes darting around the dim living room until a sniff echoes in the silence. you move forward in a rush, tossing the papers on the couch as you hurry across the hardwood, clutching the edge of the arched hallway to spin yourself around the corner even quicker and—

you come face to face with him, grumpy, as your eyes slowly adjust in the shadowed hall. he's half asleep with his arm free from his sling, though he's still cradling it close to his bare tummy, scratching at the hair bristling the underside of his unshaven jaw.

gravelly, he asks, "the hell 'ave you been?"

"sorry," you whisper, even though he's already waking up, "i've been prepping for the meeting with morph tomorrow and—"

his left eye blinks furiously, unbandaged, and the furrow of his brow has guilt gnawing away at you. half of his face is still shiny and tender, and wearing his usual glare tugs on his baby-fresh skin; if you hadn't been so late, again, then the upset wouldn't have had a reason to sprout on his sleepy face.

"what time is it?"

you wince, and that is enough of an answer for him to sigh, shake his head as he stumbles around you to the kitchen. an agitated grunt sounds from deep in his chest, followed by a low hiss as his bare feet meet the cold tile, and you trail after him like a kicked puppy. still, he doesn't shrug away when you wrap your arms around him, laying your cheek against his back as he opens the fridge.

"'m sorry," you murmur.

after a minute he sighs and closes the door, restless, popping all the fingers on his left hand. you can feel the breath he holds in his chest, the tension that lines his body before he speaks.

"what, you don't wanna come home to me anymore?"

"what?" you pull away from him as if burned, looking at his back, his neck, at the scarred tissue of him in—horror. when he doesn't turn around, you tug on him before fitting yourself between his body and the fridge. "katsuki, no, that's not true at all."

a little frown slants his face and his good eye flicks over you before darting away.

the healing is slow going—and what's coming with it isn't all good; he's been angling away from you, slowly, over the past few weeks. not turning fully, but he won't allow you on his right side if he can help it. hiding, almost.

"no," you say again, firmer this time, "i've been trying to handle everything at the agency because i don't want you come back to a mountain of shit."

"already will," he huffs before gesturing to his arm. "y'think this is gonna go over easy?"

a sharp sting cuts deep in your heart and you have to swallow to keep tears from springing to your eyes. you hate this, hate that he's been wounded so, that it's affecting him more than he'll let on. you imagine him in the dark, alone on the couch as it eats him alive, and that image is enough to send your tears overboard.

you frown at his chest before nuzzling into him, hugging him to you until he lets that breath out, until you feel the warmth of his hand at your back.

"i'm sorry," you say again, for everything. all of it.

katsuki lets out a tch and slumps, pressing his mouth into your hair with a sigh. "quit apologizin', just—ei can handle it." when you nod, he curls even further into you, more than he ever usually does, and something melts down to honey in your chest. "thought you'd wanna stay home with me, anyway."

"i do!"

"so do it," katsuki pulls back to headbutt you lightly, grunting when you steal a quick kiss from him. "damn woman, gotta beg you to—"

"no, no," you whine, shaking your head as you hug him tighter. "i want to stay home with you! i'm gonna cook you breakfast—"

"—like hell—"

"—and lay out all your meds and you tuck into bed and help you in the shower and be a perfect little nurse—"

he kisses you to shut you up, one long press of his lips that turns to another and another, and you can't help but to laugh a little against him. with his forehead to yours, he shakes his head, rolling his eye before pulling back to tug on your blazer.

"take this shit off," he grumbles, letting it drop to the floor in a shockingly lazy action. you go to pick it up, but he loops his hand gently into yours before tugging you after him out of the kitchen.

when he passes the living room, you fail at hiding your grin. "you gonna sleep in the room?"

you've missed him in his soft, cool sheets; turning over to find his warmth right beside you, the feel of his hand somewhere on you all throughout the night, how soft he looks in the morning, how easy he is to sink into to.

you miss cozying up into his neck, dozing off there until he bites at you for drooling on him—though the last thing you wanted to be was needy, not now. you thought giving him space was good and that he'd want it, but it seems you were wrong.

maybe he wants you closer than ever. maybe he needs it.

"well, yeah," he rasps, tugging at your shirt, too, after you cross the threshold of the bedroom. "gonna tuck me in, ain't you?"

#aw — i'm so happy to know you're thinking about them !#i want to write a new assistant!reader in a different universe #one that's more—adult maybe LOL sad and angsty #but this was actually so fun !! i missed writing these two more than i realized #so it's not much but have this !#will will ever stop talking about bakugou's injury ? no. no i will not.#please keep your precious $24.55 and instead treat yourself to something you enjoy !! 🥺💕✨️#i guess #[ ☆ and you take me the way i am: bakugou ]#✿ willow writes #✿ ask willow #✿ thoughts: bakugou

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curvycarbivore · 7 months

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Caprese Sandwiches on Homemade Focaccia (Vegan)

Yield: 4 servings | Prep time: 20 minutes | Cook time: 30 minutes | Total time: 2 hours

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This sandwich takes the classic Caprese salad to a whole new level. The focaccia bread turns out so soft, the homemade pesto adds that fresh basil flavor, and the Miyoko's vegan mozarella makes it. Eat this as a closed or open-faced sandwich, and try not to drool too much over your plate.

Focaccia Ingredients:

3 cups of flour

1 packet (about 2.5 tsp) of active dry yeast

1 cup of warm water

1 tsp salt

1 tsp rosemary

1 tbsp garlic powder

1 tbsp dried oregano

1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil for brushing

Pesto Ingredients:

2 large handfuls of fresh basil leaves

2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

1/4 cup walnuts

2 tsp nutritional yeast

1/2 tsp garlic powder

Caprese Sandwich Ingredients:

Vegan mozzarella cheese (I used Miyoko's)

1 large tomato

Fresh basil leaves

Balsamic glaze for drizzling on top (optional)

Directions:

In a small bowl, combine the water and dry active yeast. Let it sit in a warm spot in your kitchen for about 5 minutes to activate the yeast.

In a large bowl, combine the flour, salt, rosemary, garlic, and oregano.

Create a well in the center of the bowl, and add the yeast water.

Using a large spoon, gently mix the wet and dry ingredients together. It should form a slightly sticky dough ball.

Cover the bowl with a damp kitchen towel and let it rise for 1 hour.

Meanwhile, make the vegan pesto.

Add all the pesto ingredients to a food processor and blend until everything is chopped and combined. You want it to be thick so it'll spread nicely.

Once the focaccia dough has rested, preheat the oven to 400° F.

Lightly grease a baking sheet with olive oil.

Dump the focaccia dough onto the baking sheet and spread it out evenly with your hands.

Using your fingertips, press small dimples into the dough.

Bake the dough for 5 minutes, then remove it from the oven.

Brush 1 tbsp of olive oil on top of the dough, and sprinkle with more herbs if desired.

Bake for another 25 minutes or until the top is golden brown.

While it's baking you can prep your sandwich ingredients: slice the tomato and mozzarella.

Once the focaccia is baked, remove it from the oven.

Using a pizza cutter, divide the focaccia into 8 equal pieces.

Assemble your sandwiches with a layer of pesto, slice of tomato, slice of mozzarella, a few fresh basil leaves, and a drizzle of balsamic glaze (optional).

Enjoy immediately while the focaccia is still warm!

Tips and Tricks:

You probably won't have any leftover focaccia, but if you do, store it in an air-tight container or bag. Will last for 2 days at room temperature.

Store the pesto in an air-tight container in the fridge for up to 3 days. It will start to turn dark green which is normal (just give it a stir before using).

Make this recipe even faster by buying a jar of vegan pesto, like my favorite Sprout's Organic Vegan Basil Pesto!

#foccacia #bread #vegan #vegan recipes #vegan food #caprese #vegan cheese

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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

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

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,100ish

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

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

________

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. You alright?”

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

“Jensen. I can get my own dinner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Twenty years, why?”

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

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

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

“You got that fancy computer though.”

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

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

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

“Debatable.”

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

“Are you any good?” he asked.

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

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

“No. Why?”

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

“That was Dee’s hoodie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This Is Us?” you asked.

“Supernatural?”

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

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

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

“I will Y/N. Promise.”

Friday Night

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s my adorable face,” he teased.

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The Next Night

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

“This is fucking awesome,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

“If it’s a problem-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now that’s just sad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m still sorry.”

“You don’t...talk about her much.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

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

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

“Lots of people have it a lot worse.”

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

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

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

“No,” you said.

“No? Why not?”

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

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

“What?” you snapped at him.

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

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

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

“This is my part of the house.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.

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

“The kids-”

“Not the kids.”

“I don’t remember,” you said quietly.

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

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

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

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

“Cause he’s kinda me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not...weirded out?” he asked.

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

“All of the above.”

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

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Good,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there any other kind?” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How can you know that?”

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

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

“Are you ready to try this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope not,” he said.

“Do they know? You want to date?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want help?” you asked.

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

“I don’t need ‘em,” she said.

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

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

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

“Night Y/N,” she said.

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

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

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

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

“Thinking about what?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

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

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arrowflier · 3 years

Note

Something where one of them does something different with their hair? E.g. grows it out or cuts it or dyes it or something? Please and thank you 💖 (love your work!!!!!!!!)

I was gonna be all cute and soft, then I did this instead.😂

---

"What," Mickey asked, staring in horror, "did you do?"

Ian shrugged from his spot on the sofa without looking back at his husband, idly flipping through screens on his phone.

"What do you mean?"

"What do I--" Mickey blinked. "What do you think I mean, asshole?"

He took the last few steps from the entryway to their living room, stopping behind the arm of the sofa were Ian was resting his head. Reaching down, Mickey tangled his hand in Ian's thick hair, ignoring the way he hummed when fingers brushed his scalp, and pulled.

"Ouch!" Ian yelped, sitting up so fast that Mickey's hand got stuck and pulled even harder. He swatted at Mickey's arm until he untangled himself, then twisted to glare up at him.

"What the fuck, Mickey?"

"Jesus Christ," Mickey muttered. "It's even worse from the front." Then he looked down at his hand, now streaked an unnatural green. A green that matched the horrible monstrosity currently covering his husband's head.

"You get fucking slimed or somethin'?" Mickey asked. "Stick your head in a bunch of fuckin' moss?"

He paused, then his eyes went wide. "Wait," he breathed out shallowly. "You were at the house today, weren't you?" He groaned, went to rub his face before remembering the smear of color and grimacing. He shook his hand out instead.

"Please tell me you didn't stick your head in Carl's fridge, man," Mickey begged. "If that shit's mold, I'm just gonna go get a whole new husband."

Ian laughed, the green bastard, apparently already over Mickey's assault of his sensitive scalp.

"Come on, Mick," he said. "I was playing with Franny, Debs got her some new makeup and stuff."

"Since when does the kid like wanna play with that shit?" Mickey asked, "And why did it end up in your hair?"

He waved a hand ineffectively, trying to encompass everything wrong with that claim, but Ian just rolled his eyes.

"She likes it when it's costume make-up," he explained. "And she's been watching old batman stuff lately, wanted to make me the Joker."

"So you let her paint your hair green?"

"It's chalk, Mickey," Ian sighed. "It'll wash right out, I promise."

Mickey eyed him warily, then raised his stained hand and poked tentatively at a green curl that had fallen over Ian’s forehead.

“It fuckin’ better, Gallagher,” he threatened. “And you need to go wash it out right the fuck now.”

“And disappoint Franny?” Ian asked. “Debs wasn’t home yet when I left, Franny really wanted her to see it.”

“So take a picture, dumbass!” Mickey exclaimed, but Ian pouted.

“She wants her to see it in person, Mickey,” he stressed. “Tomorrow, when we go over for Sunday lunch.”

Mickey folded his arms, and stared hard at the top of Ian’s head. Then he sighed, hunching his shoulders, and gave in.

“Fine,” he muttered, then straightened again to shove a finger in Ian’s face.

“You get one night, Gallagher,” Mickey said, “and if that shit doesn’t come off I will shave it off my fucking self.”

Ian grinned.

“Deal,” he agreed happily. “Now…” he continued, licking his lips, “do you want me to make it up to you? I took the lipstick off already, so you can’t complain about my mouth.”

He waggled his eyebrows, reaching for Mickey’s belt, but Mickey stepped back hurriedly.

“Fuck no,” he said. “Not like that. Think I wanna look down and see a fuckin’ stalk of broccoli on my dick?” He waved his arms between them when Ian tried to advance, leaning back further. “Think that’s gonna do it for me, hot shot?”

Ian bit his lip, and shrugged, managing to grab Mickey by the hem of his shirt and tug him closer again.

“Never seemed to have a problem with shredded carrots,” he pointed out, grinning again.

Mickey stilled, then abruptly had a change of heart.

“Yeah, okay then, brussel sprout,” he agreed. “You do owe me for the fuckin’ heart attack I got seein’ you like that.”

“But if any more of that shit rubs off on me,” he added as Ian stepped closer, “it’s game over, yeah?”

“Sure Mickey,” Ian conceded, rolling his eyes. Green eyes under red eyebrows under green hair—Mickey shuddered.

“And I’m keepin’ my fuckin’ eyes closed.”

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #mention of franny #total crack fic #silly and random #fanfic

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sritzthefirefly · 3 years

Text

The Not-so French Mistake

Pairing: Slight Dean x reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. Any and all comments on this are appreciated. I’m sorry for any grammatical errors that I might have made. This is my first fanfiction (as a one-shot, I've written a few earlier in poetry form) so please go easy on me.

“You are going to die.”, he states nonchalantly, as if three men entering your house and telling you that you are going to die is an everyday occurrence.

“I…WHAT?!”, I shout, my eyes round as saucers.

Well, today was a seemingly normal day. Until the seemingly normal day wasn’t as seemingly normal as I thought it would be.

2 hours earlier

“Hey, I’ll be leaving now”, my best friend said as she packed the small handbag she always carried around with her.

“Don’t forget the pickle jar and then come back 15 minutes later telling me you forgot the one thing I reminded you about”, I shouted to her from the top of the stairs.

She turned around to pick up the jar from the centre table when her eyes landed on me and she whistled. I pulled the drawstrings of my silk dressing gown tighter as I walked down the stairs.

“Ooooh, would you look at that, someone’s looking good. So, are you going to sleep after I’m gone, or are you going to have some company tonight?”

“I…..I just can’t……not so soon after...ummm……I know I’m stupid but I just wanted to feel good about myself”

She closed the few steps between us and hugged me tightly.

“Hey, you know he’s an asshole. His words don’t count, ok? No guy has the right to make you feel bad about yourself”, she said, pulling away.

��But he…….”

“No missy, you listen here, he’s an idiot who doesn’t deserve you. He should feel lucky he’s not in town or I would’ve kicked him so hard in the balls that impregnating a woman would’ve been a foreign concept to him.”

I gave her a small smile.

“Thanks for hyping me up, love. I’m now going to have ice cream and cry my heart out to sad rom-coms.”

“Bitch, you hate rom-coms. You’re just going to binge-watch Supernatural and you’re not telling me that because you won’t admit that you’re obsessed with the show”.

“Okay, okay whatever……Aren’t you getting late for your train?”

She looked at her watch.

“Oh shit! Bye, see you later.” she said as she ran out of the door, slamming it behind her. I sighed to myself and walked over to the TV, switching it on.

“Self-care time for me now!”, I said to myself, as I opened the fridge to get my favorite ice-cream when suddenly, the doorbell rings. I immediately turned my head towards the centre table and sure enough, the pickle jar was there.

Shaking my head, I picked up her precious jar and walked over to the door, pulling it open.

“I knew you……..”, I stopped short when I saw who was standing outside.

There, standing on my porch were, none other than, Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki.

And then I woke up.

Yeah, if only it happened that way.

I knew I was looking like an absolute fool in front of them, opening and closing my mouth like a fish, my eyes wide and my breath short as I stood there, taking in the two handsome men adorning my doorstep. They were dressed in their Sam and Dean outfits -plaid, over layers of plaid- it seemed like a scene straight out of a set.

“Hi! You’re Y/N right?”, Jared said in his usual husky voice while Jensen stood beside him, strangely staring at me with something akin to awe in his eyes.

“W…what? I…uh…yeah…I…I am Y/N”, I somehow managed to choke out.

“You’re awesome”, Jensen Ackles breathed out with a sigh with literal heart-eyes in my direction. He cleared his throat and blinked twice and then seemed to step out of his reverie. He gave me a small smile and looked me up and down with a small smirk and I blushed furiously. Wait, was Jensen Ackles checking me out?!

Okay, so there were either of these two things going on- either I was dreaming or I had completely lost my mind. But since I had already pinched myself and well, that damn pinch did hurt, so the situation pretty much tilted towards the latter side. I mean, Jensen Ackles knows me and he thinks I am awesome?!

“Yep, definitely not a fan”, Jared whispers somewhat sarcastically to Jensen to which he replies under his breath with a “Shut up, Sammy!”

I would have paid more attention to what Jensen said had I not had my whole focus on Jared’s last words.

“Ummm…..excuse me? No offense but I’m standing right here and you can rest assured that I am 100% a fan, of both of you. If you don’t believe me, ask me anything about Supernatural.”, I say, crossing my hands across my chest.

“Wha-Supernatural? Like the book Supernatural? You have that here too?”, Jensen asks seemingly surprised.

Alright, is this a game for their show? I thought to myself, utterly confused and dazed. They seem to know my name and well, address too and that can be the only logical explanation as to why Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki are here, on my doorstep. But I couldn’t see any cameras nearby. Maybe they were hidden? Maybe I was meant to be taken by surprise? Oh shit, did I just challenge them right now? Was this being filmed? My mind rushed with a million things- ‘Oh god, I must be looking so stupid right now, acting like a blobfish instead of doing anything!’

I opened my mouth to say something, anything at all, when Jared cut through.

“Ummm I’m sorry, Y/N, but it’s not really a good idea to be standing outside and talking. I promise we’ll explain everything. Can we please come inside and talk?”

“I….uh…..yeah sure. Come inside please.”, I was about to ask what their deal was but changed my mind when I saw Jensen nervously looking around and then back at me, pleadingly.

I closed the door behind me as they settled on the plush red sofa. I walked across the room and sat on the chair facing them.

“Y/N”, Jared started. “There’s no easy way to say this but I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean. Like, from Supernatural.”

“Ummm…. I’m aware? Despite your contrary belief, I told you I was a fan.”, I said, confused.

“You’re our fan?!”, Jensen asked, somewhat stunned. “Haha sweetheart, am I living my dream!”, he added, his emerald eyes twinkling.

I stared at him through my eyelashes.

“Hold up, quick question, are you a Dean girl or Sam girl?”

“Dean, not now…..”, Jared sighed.

“Dean girl!”, I blurted out, immediately blushing deeply. Jensen’s entire face lit up and I hurriedly added, “No offense to Jared here.”

“Jared? You mean Jared Pada-whatshisname?”, Jensen asked incredulously.

“Padalecki, Dean”

“Son of a bitch! Fake us lives in the same universe as her!”

I started laughing and the both of them turned towards me quizzically.

“Ummm what is this? Some spin-off of The French Mistake?”, I asked.

“The French what?”, Jared looked at me, his eyebrow raised.

“That’s not important right now. Y/N, I know, it’s hard to believe us right now, but we are not your TV actors-we are not Jensen and Jared. I am the actual Dean Winchester and he is my brother, Sam Winchester. The trickster, the archangel Gabriel, owed us a favor and he let us travel into your universe.... Sweetheart please, you have to believe me. I umm uh, I have been a-”

I stood straight up from my chair, angrily.

“I’m sorry but what kind of prank is this? Going to people’s houses and-”, I started angrily when suddenly the entire room got spontaneously flooded with an immensely bright light.

“Cover your eyes!”, a deep, somewhat robotic voice filled the air and I immediately did so to lessen the risk of my precious peepers being completely burned out by an unknown source of dazzling light in my seemingly normal house in the middle of a seemingly normal (absolutely weird) day.

Slowly, the light faded.

And there stood Misha Collins-

No, that could not possibly be Misha. Unless Misha had suddenly evolved to be able to exhibit bioluminescence or had sprouted long black wings from the back of his trench coat or had learned to hover like a bee in mid-air. No, definitely not Misha.

That means, this must…this must be-

“Holy mother of God”, I gasped out.

“I….am….not….the….I am the son of God”, he said, walking across the room to sit beside Jar-no, no......Sam.

Holy shit! CASTIEL?! That means that all this time, Jens- Dean, had not been lying. I collapsed on my chair, my mind, not being able to form a single coherent thought. Dean leaped up from the sofa and rushed to my side.

“Darling….darling, look for yourself, that-”

“He is Castiel.”, I said, boring into Dean’s green eyes, they brought me comfort. “I believe you…… Dean.”

A look passed between Sam and Dean and Dean immediately held my hand and squeezed my palm as an act of reassurance as he beamed at me.

Sam got up from his chair and smiled at me, “Thanks to Cas here, you believe us. At last. I thought you were two seconds away from throwing us out.”

I snorted. A really ugly snort through my nose. In front of three delicious-looking men, especially Dean, who was somehow still looking at me like I was God’s gift to mankind. Hah, no wonder I was single.

I cleared my throat to relieve the awkwardness and continued,

“Well, in my defense, you guys were acting real creepy.”

Yeah sure, not even in my wildest dreams would I actually throw Jensen and Jared out of my house, no matter how creepy they act, but they didn’t need to know that.

“But how…why……..”, I started asking the questions bothering me.

“Umm well, yeah, about that…”, Dean started, gulping.

Castiel walked over and looked at me with downcast eyes.

“You are going to die.”, he stated nonchalantly, as if three men entering into your house and telling you that you are going to die is an everyday occurrence.

“I…WHAT?!”, I shouted, my eyes wide.

Now

“CAS!”, Sam and Dean both exclaim at him at the same time.

“She was asking.…..”

“No Cas, not like that!”, Sam tells him prickly.

“Please tell me what the hell is going on! Why….How am I going to die? What’s happening?!”, I say, hiding my face with my hair.

“Darling, promise me you won’t freak out.”, Dean says, staring straight into my soul. “You are a character from a book in our universe. My favourite book. And trust me, this...you…. I am a huge fan of you. Have been, since I was a child. Now you see, few months ago, we stumbled into your universe when Gabriel pranked us. And then I saw you. I met you. The real you....just….perfect….And I just wanted to.....I mean..... I came back...I came back because…..”

“Because?”

“I know everything. I know how the book ends and I have come back here to save you, darling.”

Tagging - @thatmotleygirl @msmarvelouswinchester @athenapotter @mvdeanw @bts-spnlvr12 @holylulusworld @jensengirl83

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #dean winchester one shot

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

if you’re still taking meet ugly asks, could you do 01 or 13 for sternclay? nsfw please

Here you go! I went with 1.

we were set up on a blind date but it went horribly, so now you message me every time you have a good date because you think your tips will help me in the future, you ass.

Bzzbzz

Joseph picks up his phone and regrets it before he’s even done reading the waiting message.

Barclay: See, this is how you dress for a date at a casual place.

It’s accompanied by a photo of a headless torso, sporting a Ramones T-shirt and blue jeans.

He deletes the message. He told that asshole he was in the suit because Hayes kept him late to finish a report and he didn’t want to be any more behind for their date than he already was.

No, you know what, he’s had enough of this.

J.S: He’s dressed like a college student. No one told me you were a cradle robber.

Barclay: Just trying to help you do better next time ;)

This is the same line he gives Joseph every time he sends one of these texts

“It was great, it felt like a real conversation instead of an interrogation.”

“See, what made tonight nice was he didn’t look at his phone even once.”

“Now, what made this nice is that he didn’t mistake another guy for me on the way in.”

He has reasons, explanations, things that could make him look more like a man who had a bad day and less like the poster boy for the horrors of blind dating. But the one time he tried sharing his side of things, Barclay responded that he wasn’t doing this to make sense of their shitty date, but to make it easier on the next guy.

It was the last date in a long line of increasingly desperate attempts by his loved ones to find someone, anyone, for him to be with; being married to his work fills all his needs. Leave it to his older sister to spot that it wasn’t meeting many of his wants.

Joseph tosses the phone away, retrieves his take-out leftovers from the fridge. As he munches reheated green mango chicken, the city heading out into Friday night revelry without him, he decides that while he’s not about to take dating advice from a guy who can’t pull his head out of his ass long enough to consider someone else’s perspective, Barclay makes one good point: there’s always a next time.

And there’s no moment like the present to start planning for it.

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

Barclay cannot figure out why Logan chose this spot; it’s one step above gay cruising club. Not that he hasn’t had fun at those before, but he was hoping for somewhere quieter. Also somewhere with better food; you can tell a lot about a guy by what he orders, and fuck all about him when the only meal to be found is chips or the olive from a martini glass.

Still not the worst date he’s been on.

As Logan steers the conversation in promisingly steamy directions, Barclay glances at the bar and locks eyes with his biggest disappointment of the year. Joseph raises an eyebrow, then his face goes annoyingly neutral as he looks first at Logan and then to the bartender for another glass.

His date excuses himself and Barclay weighs how much of a dick he wants to be against how good Joseph looks tonight. He’s in a v-neck and a short jacket, dark-wash jeans making it easy to picture how satisfying hooking his legs over Barclays shoulders would be.

Barclay sidles up to the bar, leaning on it and smiling at Joseph, “You finally decide to put my advice to good use?”

“No.” Joseph replies, tarter than a cherry, and goes back to looking at his phone.

“Suit yourself, and have fun going home alone.”

The black-haired man squares his shoulders, turns so that Barclay gets a full-on view of a stunning face and sharp, blue eyes, “At least I won’t be going home with someone who’s using me for a prank video.”

“Pfft, whatever man, you’re just-” Barclay snaps his mouth shut as Joseph turns his phone, showing a Youtube channel hosted by none other than Logan.

“His modus operandi is to have viewers vote on which gay man he should go out with and string along the whole night until he reveals he’s straight.”

“I, I uh, that’s” his heart is in his shoes, “that’s not very nice.”

“That’s not all. There are three cameras recording your date.” Joseph points to three separate guys, “they’re using their phones, makes it hard to prove they’re not just texting or something else innocuous.”

He might cry. Worse, if he cries, he might owe Joseph an explanation.

“There you are baby, thought you’d run off.” Logan sets a hand on his arm and Barclay freezes, trying to work out a non-humiliating form of escape.

Joseph clears his throat, “Are you aware that recording people without their permission is illegal in this state?”

“Uh, no, but what the fuck does that have to do with me?”

“You, and those three gentleman you’re having film Mr. Cobb here, are all at risk of being charged with a misdemeanor.” Joseph’s voice is smooth and clear, utterly in control, and Barclay gets goosebumps as he pulls out his wallet and flashes an FBI badge, “I suggest you get out of here before you do something you regret.”

The quartet disappears in a cloud of body spray as Barclay slumps onto a stool and Joseph orders two more drinks, sliding one his way. Whiskey Soda, his favorite. He’d ordered it during their date.

They sip in silence for three songs before Joseph says, “I guess I passed the dubious honor of your worst date onto someone else.”

“You’re still a strong runner up.” It’s mean, but Barclay isn’t feeling very chipper right now.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad! I was trying to learn as much about you as I could while switching from work mode to a date.”

“You made me feel like I was doing all the work!”

“If you’d given me more than a half hour of your time I could have fixed that.”

“Nah, I know when a date is doomed. No point in dragging it out. It wasn’t going to be fun.”

“I can be fun!” Joseph knocks back the rest of his drink, “I’ll prove it.”

Barclay snorts, “how?”

“I want a do over. Right now.” Lights dance across his skin and Barclay gets a whiff of gin and mint as he leans so they’re almost nose to nose, “Unless you’re afraid you’ll be the dud this time.”

“You’re on.” Barclay growls, “but don’t get your hopes up.”

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

Either his pillow sprouted fur overnight, or Joseph isn’t where he should be.

He cracks his eyes open, squinting in the muted, grey light sneaking in under the curtains. The room, while tidy, isn’t his, and the clock on the wall tells him he’s starting his Saturday out with oversleeping.

Barclay is sound asleep beside him, his broad, hairy chest rising and falling soothingly. A cursory peek under the blankets shows he’s a naked as Joseph is. As the agent slips from the bed and hunts down his clothes, he starts to remember why.

They’d done something in the club bathroom, a blow-job, that’s right, and the instant Barclay dragged him into his apartment Joseph shoved him onto the bed, yanked his pants off, and returned the favor. He remembers, as he surrenders to going commando rather than wear his pre-cum stained boxer briefs, wanting to sleep with his head on Barclay’s stomach, cum still on his lips, but the cook made a very convincing argument to come up and kiss him instead.

His pants are back on when his phone lights up from it’s spot on the floor.

Alert: Snowstorm predicted to last until 5 pm Sunday. Travel limited, recommended for emergencies only. At least five feet of snow predicted.

“Shit” he whispers, pushing the curtain aside to discover a world of smooth, white roof tops and impassable streets.

Jinglejingle

He spins, startled, as what he thought was a black pillow shakes out it’s ears and rises from a cushion at the foot of the bed. It’s the single most absurd dog he’s ever seen, like someone smushed a corgi and a Rottweiler together. It blinks at him, cocks it’s head, and then shifts its attention to the bed.

“Please don’t jump.” Maybe he can still sneak out on foot, or find somewhere else to wait out the storm.

The dog launches it’s tubular body onto Barclay, who “oofs” and is laughing before he even opens his eyes.

“Hey boy, yeah, I know, I know, didn’t let you in until way after bedtime.” The cooks deep voice is scratchy with sleep. The dog wiggles and digs at the blankets on his chest as he turns his head, smiling Joseph’s way, “morning babe.”

“Good morning.” Throwing himself out the window would result in hypothermia. Also a broken ankle. So no luck there.

Barclay notices his jeans, “Oh, uh, if you need to go that’s cool. I, uh” he yawns “I have a policy of making breakfast after a hook-up, but if you’re in a hurry I can just get you some coffee for the road. C’mon Sass, let me up.”

“I, um, I can stay. I don’t have much choice.”

“What do you--oh fuck, I knew we were getting snow this weekend but no one said anything about a fucking blizzard. Guess you’re crashing here for the weekend.”

“I guess so.”

Barclay’s smile shrinks, “Is that a shitty outcome?”

“No! Or, um, I just” Joseph sits on the bed, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t want to impose. I was trying to get out of here so I wouldn’t make things awkward since I, um, I don’t do this much.”

“Gotta say that was kinda obvious.” It’s a gentle tease, Barclay’s fingers flipping through his phone, “huh, when did I take a video last night?”

“I think you--oh, oh my lord.” Joseph claps his hands over his mouth, blushing at the memory.

“What, did I talk you into karaoke or somethi--holy fuck.” Barclay scoots to where Joseph is frozen, holding the screen where they can both see it. The same face growing excited beside him is looking up at the camera, lips wrapped around Joseph’s cock as a voice urges him on.

“You like that, big guy?”

Barclay nods, pulls off so he can drag his tongue up the shaft with a grin. Then he swallows it almost to the base, Joseph’s hand flying past the lens to stifle a moan.

“That’s it, show me how much you like it, s-so the next time you feel like sending me a snarky text you can watch this and remember just how much fucking fun you had sucking my dickAH.” A laugh as Barclay sits back on his heels, pulling off the condom.

“C’mon blue eyes, bet, bet you’re gonna look great when you cum, fuck, think I ruined these pants just watching you. Heh, you like that, like getting me hard and wet on the fucking bathroom floor.”

“Usually it’s, it’s the other waAAaay aroundohfuck, shit.” Cum spatters across Barclay’s face. The cook licks his lips, still smiling, as the camera sinks to his level, Joseph giggling behind it, “here, let, let me clean you up.”

“Don’t want everyone else to see your cum all over me?"

“Nngn. I, I mean no, not in actuality.” Joseph’s hand returns to the frame, gently cleaning Barclay’s cheek with toilet paper.

The video ends there. Joseph is red from his hips to his cheeks, but not so embarrassed that he misses Barclay rubbing his thighs together. Then the cook meets his eyes and sets the phone aside.

“I can delete it. Know your face isn’t in it but if you’re more comfortable with it gone, it’s gone.”

The offer alone calms him, “No, no it’s okay. Thank you for offering. I, um, since I’ll be here awhile, can I use your shower?”

“Sure, it’s just through there.” He tips his head at the door in the left wall, grabbing a robe from the door and heading into the chilly apartment, Sass clickclick-ing on the hardwood after him.

As always, the world is more manageable when he’s clean. A pair of sweatpants and a thick, blue sweater are waiting for him on the bed, and coffee-swirled air coaxes him into the kitchen. It’s small but immaculately organized, Barclay moving from stove to cabinet to fridge and back again in an intimate dance.

“Coffee on the left is yours. I’m doing pancetta in the omelettes; most of my friends are vegetarian so I never get a chance to bust it out.”

“That sounds delicious.” He picks up the mug, sighs as warms his chest, “mmm, you have real cream somewhere in this house.”

“Yep. Remember you said you liked the real stuff when you could get it. I drink mine black, but really these beans demand cream instead of milk; sets of the chocolate notes really nice.”

“I can never taste those. Same thing with wine. But I guess that’s why you’re the professional and I’m not.”

“That’s more a happy coincidence. I got into this to help with the bills when I was in high school. I wasn’t, like, combining flavors and deciding to be a cook like in Ratatouille or something.”

“That’s a Pixar movie, right?”

“Only the best one ever made. Have you really not seen it?

“I, um, I only watch kids movies if I’m babysitting my niece. Which doesn’t happen as often as I’d like.”

“Well, now I know what we’re doing after breakfast. Ah ah, Sass, not for you.” He shoos the dog from where it’s valiantly trying to double in length to reach the table.

“Is his name short for something?”

“Sasquatch.”

“Awwww.” Joseph crouches down to scritch behind one, floppy ear.

“His whole litter was named for cryptids; Nessie, Champ, Yeti, stuff like that.”

“‘Bray’ feels like an obvious one.” He smiles, then remembers not everyone is a nerdy UP agent, “sorry, never mind.”

“Uh uh special agent, I’ve been waiting to ask you about this. You don’t get to say you’re ‘like Fox Mulder’ and then not share more.” Barclay pulls out his chair, kisses his head when he sits down. He then listens to Joseph expound on canine cryptids of the midwest for fifteen minutes, fascinated the entire time.

“Y’know, I had a line cook who swore he’d been abducted by aliens.”

“What was his proof?”

By the time their plates are clean, Joseph has generated three alternative explanations and Barclay is staring at him with an expression straight from a rom-com. The cook sets up the movie while Joseph does the dishes, then pulls him under a mound of blankets.

“The heat in this place is shit, but I promise I’ll keep you warm.”

He enjoys the movie plenty, the weight of Barclay’s arm over his shoulder and, eventually, his waist, even more. They watch Ramen Girl for the hell of it, spooning on the couch while the snow makes dunes out of the sidewalk.

When the second movie is done, Joseph rolls so he’s facing the cook, “What should we do now?”

“Could keep watching movies, or bake something. I’ve got some cards and a few games in the closet. Or we could just cuddle and talk. I’m good with whatever.”

“...Could I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“You’ve been so sweet all day. Why were you such an ass about our first date?”

Barclay shifts, discomfort entering his eyes, “I was having a shitty week and was hoping the date would make me feel better. I ended up so anxious after it, felt like you wanted to be somewhere else, that I kinda took my frustration out by being a dick. I’m sorry. I, um, I wasn’t even on that many dates between now and then; I’d just text you what I’d wished had happened to fuck with you.”

“I should’ve known it; no one has that many good dates in a row.”

“Sorry.”

Joseph cups his cheek, “And I’m sorry for making you feel that way the first time. I had my reasons but, well, you still had a bad time because I was flustered and couldn’t get my mind off work.”

“Think you’ve more than made up for it.”

“Can I try again anyway?” Joseph kisses him, slipping his fingers under the waistband of his sweats.

Barclay’s lips curve up, “Bedroom?”

“Bedroom.”

Once Barclay is comfortably naked atop the blankets (space heater pointed at the bed all the while), Joseph asks if he has any condoms.

“Yeah, bathroom cabinet. But I’m not, uh, I don’t-”

“It’s not for penetration. You said last night that was a no for you.” In the reflection of the bathroom mirror, he watches him relax. If he ever finds out someone saw the tension in those muscles, heard the worry in that sweet, deep voice and pushed anyway, he’s going to set them on fire with his mind.

Barclay nestles his cheek on his pillow as Joseph fishes his swiss army knife from his jacket, puts his ass in the air and wiggles it expectantly as Joseph unrolls the cut latex.

“Is this okay?”

“Uh huh, I really love it when guys do this but, uh, it doesn’t happen much. The hair turns a lot of them off.”

“Cowards.” Joseph holds the makeshift dam in place. Barclay’s chuckle morphs into a moan as he presses his face between his asscheeks, tongue making an obscene sound against the latex. There’s a warmth to this angle that he loves, a tender sort of filthiness to the way Barclay pushes his ass back with little gasps of his name.

He doesn’t get to practice his technique often, but that makes it all the more pleasurable to re-acquaint himself with it now, find the ways of pressing and curving his tongue that make Barclay’s ass tense under his hands.

“Fuck, fuck, Joseph, I take it all back, every rude text, you’re gonna drive every date you get crazy, gonna make them wonder how they got so lucky to get someone so goddamn wild.”

“I don’t think I will. I think” Joseph kisses the small of his back, “I think it’s you. You bring it out in me, you make me want to do all the things I’d be ashamed to ask for the rest of the time.”

Barclay whimpers happily.

“I’m serious. There’s something about you, I feel like I can want what I want without shame.” He nips his right cheek once, gently, “or maybe it’s just that what I really want is you and everything else finds into line because of it.”

“Fuuuck, baby, please.” Barclays weight shifts as Joseph eats him out ever more messily, “wanna, wanna make you feel good.” He’s rubbing his dick, Joseph can tell by the sound.

“May I?”

“Uhhuh, fuck, c’mere” Barclay grabs him as soon as they’re both sitting up, “was gonna pound you into next week but I dont wanna waste time with the harness right now.”

“Then we can do that tomorrowAH, ohlord” his hand stutters on it’s way to Barclay’s cock as calloused fingers circle is dick, “god there is not a part of you that disappoints, you’re just a wet dream from top to bottom.”

“Aw, babe.” Barclay kisses his shoulder, groaning as Joseph thumbs his dick, “fuck, speaking of, you gonna tell me what you meant in the stall last night? About things being ‘the other way around.”

Now it’s his turn to hide his face, “Promise you won’t think I’m dirty?”

“Babe, your mouth was on my ass a minute ago. You’re dirty and I fucking love it.”

“I, um, I, when I travel for missions I look for, for places that have glory holes.”

“Oh fuck” Barclay ruts against his palm, “that’s a fucking amazing image blue eyes. You on your knees, trying to keep that fucking suit clean while a fucking parade of guys shove their dicks down your throat.”

“I, it’s an easy way for me to get off, I can edge myself until I’m done and then cum without anyone being the wise but, god, half the time I’d think about this, want this.” He speeds up his strokes, pumps his cock into Barclay’s fist.

“What, a hairy trans guy?” Barclay bumps their noses together.

“This” his free hand glides along Barclays arm where it’s holding him, “s-someone to see me, hold onto me, fuck the whole of me and not just the acceptable, easy part. But” he meets brown eyes, teases slick skin, “I, the other times I fucked someone like this it, it was like I was still in that fucking stall. Last night, today, I’m here, I want to be and I am.”

“Baby.” The word comes in a sweet rumble of understanding just as Joseph cums with a gasp. He holds on for dear life as Barclay joins their hands and guides his fingers along his dick, forces his mind to memorize the movements and shapes for next time.

Barclay cums with a groan, flinging his hands up to cup Joseph's head and kiss him. There’s cum on his arm, on Joseph’s fingers and now in his hair and he cannot bring himself to give a shit. Gradually the kisses trail to his cheeks, his neck, his collarbone, and then Barclay is nestling his head under his chin.

“I, um, I think it might have been a good thing. That first date. I can be overly focused on work, can forget to turn off the special agent questioning mode and just talk like a person. I’m glad you saw those parts of me and, um, and decided to give me another chance.”

“Hey, you saw that I could be kinda sensitive and stubborn when I think someone did something wrong and you still saved my ass from being humiliated on the internet.” Barclay sighs as Joseph pets his hair.

“Do you, um, want to keep getting to know each other? Good parts and bad?”

Barclay looks up at him. Sees him.

“Yeah, blue eyes, I do.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #meet ugly #taz amnesty #trans barclay

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Three in the Morning

Prompt: May i ask for a short story of Sam and Bucky being platonic boyfriends? Bucky is having a rough day (flashbacks, or panic/anxiety attacks??) And Sam helps him? Or Sam is having a shit day and Bucky tries to help? I just one of them being hurt and them comforted by the other? Plz and thanks

Ahhh no thank you it feels good to be back in the marvel mode. Tfatws SLAPPED let’s be real. Also they didn’t have to go so hard with the bisexual energy in that last episode but they sure as hell did

Read on Ao3

Warnings: our boi sam got PTSD and it ain’t great, other than that, all fluff

Pairings: sambucky, can be platonic or romantic I don’t care

Word Count: 2597

It’s been one of those days. Where suddenly there’s a little kid on the corner of the street and all he can think of is how much Riley would’ve loved walking around New York with him, seeing everyone living. Not trying to accomplish anything past just today. Nothing else but just existing. But then when Sam looks behind him, Riley’s not there.

Or then he wakes up in the middle of the night and all he can hear is the soldiers on the ground, telling him not to let them die. And he looks down at his hands expecting to see them covered in blood only to see them shaking in the dark.

So he stumbles into the kitchen because God knows he won’t get back to sleep tonight and he knows he needs to get some food and liquids into his body. He stops when he sees Bucky behind the counter. He glances up when he rounds the corner and gives him a little wave.

He’s baking. At…three in the morning. By the light of the under-cabinet bulbs, near-silent, Bucky Barnes is baking in the kitchen at three in the morning.

Since when does Bucky know how to bake?

Bucky motions for him to sit, which he does. He tries to open his mouth and ask what’s going on. Bucky doesn’t look away from his work and slides a full glass of water across the counter along with a bowl of pretzels.

Huh.

He downs the water pretty quickly, watching him roll out the dough and cut it into little circles on the tray. Is he…?

Sam snaps out of his daze when Bucky carefully takes the empty glass and turns to the fridge. The soft click-buzz of the water dispenser begins to cut through the static in his head. The glass slides back to him. Bucky goes back to work, still quiet.

He keeps drinking, slower this time, as he watches Bucky separate the dough, place the clean-cut circles onto a tray covered in baking paper, and re-roll the remains to be used again. In the dim light, his metal arm looks almost wet.

It isn’t until that arm reaches out to take the empty glass again that Sam realizes he’s staring.

Bucky keeps his glass full until the tray is covered in little round dough pats. He turns, slides the tray into the oven, sets the timer with a few beeps. Then he reaches to grab the kettle—how long has that been there?—and fills the blue beaker of a mug they bought on a whim when they walked into the new little corner shop at the end of the block and felt too awkward leaving without buying anything. He reaches into the cupboard, pulls out a tea bag from whatever herbal mess the neighbors gave them this time, and dunks it in the water.

He reaches again, taking another mug—the big cream one Sarah practically forced into his hands—and doing the same. He pulls open the drawer and takes one of the softer dish towels and wraps it around the mug. Turning, he sets it carefully in front of Sam and raises his own mug to his lips. Damn metal arm means he doesn’t realize how hot it really is and just about burns his mouth.

Bucky hides a smile over the rim of his own mug.

Sam sits, Bucky stands, drinking tea in their kitchen alone at three in the morning. A car drives by outside. The breeze makes the leaf shadows dance on the wall.

It’s quiet.

It’s really quiet.

None of the hectic screaming wheels, none of the chatter of thousands of voices, none of the flashing numbers in his HUD trying to tell him what to do, where to go, what calculation to make next.

It’s just…quiet.

Until the oven beeps. Bucky’s quick reflexes keep the volume from deafening them but goddamnit can they invent a ‘night mode’ where the microwave and the oven and the kettle understand that it’s three in the goddamn morning and so they should pipe the fuck down?

Bucky reaches for the mitt and slides it on. He reaches down and pulls out the tray. He sets it carefully on the stove, reaches out to turn off the oven, and grabs a spatula. Sam’s eyes glued to his back as he turns back and forth, picking up something with the spatula and setting it down on a rack to cool. He could pick up the paper from the tray and move the whole thing at once, but this feels better.

There’s something about humans really liking simple, repetitive motions. It’s why watching the waves is so calming, watching those gif things that Peter likes to send in the group chat loop over and over and over, not that they’d ever admit that. Watching Bucky turn, bend, lift, and slide the spatula back and forth, back and forth, at three in the morning.

At last, he sets down the spatula and picks up the plate, turning around and setting it between them on the counter.

Perfect, golden brown biscuits. Mama Wilson’s favorite comfort food.

Sam’s stomach growls.

Bucky’s mouth quirks up in a smile and he turns around, grabbing two little plates from the cupboard and the butter from the fridge. The butter knife makes a clatter as it decides you know what, fuck gravity, and all but jumps out of his hand. Bucky grabs it, looking at it like it just sprouted wings, before shaking his head and setting everything down. He slides his tea mug to the side and takes the top off the butter, stepping back and leaning on the counter. He indicates the plate.

Sam tilts his head.

They’re all so fluffy. And round. And brown. And god, they smell incredible. He looks around for the lumpy one.

The lumpy one is another one of Mama Wilson’s traditions. There’s never really enough dough to make all the perfectly circular biscuits, so the last one just kind of gets…smushed together. It always ended up tasting the best.

There it is.

He nods to the biscuit third from the left. Bucky nods, picking up and buttering the top, setting it on one of the little plates. Sam just picks up the biscuit and takes a bite.

Bucky huffs quietly and picks up the plate to catch his crumbs.

…damn he’s missed homemade biscuits. The butter melts in his mouth and the biscuit is so, so good.

“So?” Bucky smiles at him. “How’d I do?”

“You steal the recipe?”

“Sarah gave it to me,” he says, picking his own biscuit and reaching for the knife, “thought I’d let it sit in the drawer for too long.”

“Mm.”

“Take it that means I did a good job?”

Sam nods, still munching. A bit of butter drops onto the plate and he shovels the rest of it into his mouth before more can fall. Bucky chuckles.

“Good thing I made a bunch.”

“Mhm.” Sam reaches for another one, only to pause and stare at whatever the hell Bucky thinks he’s doing.

The man has the knife in the biscuit, cutting it in half. Bucky looks up to see why Sam’s frozen only to have the audacity to look confused while Sam’s staring at him like he’s grown another head. Which he has, basically.

“What the hell are you doing to that poor baked good?”

“What’re you talking about?” Bucky finishes dissecting the biscuit and cuts a slab of butter, placing it inside like a sandwich and smushing the top back on. “This is how I eat biscuits.”

“You’re making an abomination over there, that’s what you’re doing.”

“No, see, ‘cause this way the butter starts to melt and you don’t have as much biscuit without it.”

“Look at how many crumbs you’re spraying everywhere, you’re letting a quarter of the biscuit escape!”

“That’s what the plate’s for.”

Sam shakes his head. “You disrespect the biscuit.”

“I respect it just fine. You’re the one that refuses to let the butter melt all the way before eating it.”

“The butter’s not supposed to melt all the way! It’s supposed to be a little cold.”

“It’s also messier.”

“What’s the point of eating biscuits and butter if your fingers aren’t sticky by the end of it?”

Bucky just pops his abomination into his mouth and smirks. He wiggles his fingers.

“No butter.”

“Pass me the butter knife.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it!”

“Here’s the deal. I’ll give you a biscuit the right way—“

“You mean your way—“

“—and you can give me one of your Frankenstein monsters,” Sam says, “and we’ll see.”

“You’re on.”

Sam takes a biscuit and slathers butter over the top of it. He holds it out.

“Thank you,” Bucky says, graciously accepting the plate, “and don’t stare at mine like it’s a piece of gum on the sidewalk.”

“It ain’t right, Buck.”

“Why don’t you try it first?”

Sam bites into the biscuit. Well, the biscuit is still delicious, but…

“Where’s the butter?”

“It’s in there.”

“Where? I can’t taste it!”

“I put it in there!”

“Well no wonder it don’t taste right, there’s no butter in here.”

“I put butter in there!”

“It just tastes like you cut a biscuit in half and tried to put it back together, there is no butter in here.”

He looks up to see Bucky pouting—yes, the man pouts—at his metal arm. He looks up at Sam with the most woebegone puppy-dog expression and holds out his hand.

“I got butter in my fingers.”

“That’s the point, Buck.”

“You put so much butter on it!”

“If you aren’t licking butter off your fingers by the end of it,” he repeats, “you’re doing it wrong.”

Bucky gives him a look before bringing his hand to his mouth and trying to lick off the butter. It, uh, doesn’t go well.

“At least it’s not like salt,” he mutters as he wets a rag to try and clean it properly, “you can’t just tell me to add more in this case.”

“Salt’s a natural flavor enhancer, man, that’s why you put it in the biscuits to begin with.”

Bucky looks up at him with a smirk. “That sounds like something you’d say when Sarah calls you out for being too sassy.”

“It’s a natural flavor enhancer,” he defends.

Bucky chuckles. After a moment, Sam feels his own mouth turn up too.

It’s the first time all day he’s managed to smile.

Judging by the way Bucky softens a moment later, setting aside the rag, he’s caught that much too.

“When I was younger,” he says quietly, leaning against the counter again, “my mamma used to keep a wooden box of recipes in the drawer with the false bottom.”

He smiles and taps the counter.

“It was the last drawer on the right, second from the bottom. No one would ever think to look in there if they didn’t know what they were looking for.” He shakes his head. “Just a little wooden box, ‘bout—“ he holds his hands six inches apart— “that big.”

Sam nods.

“Just scraps in it,” Bucky continues, picking up his mug of tea again, waiting for Sam to do the same, “magazine clippings, newspaper bits, letters from relatives I couldn’t remember, lids from food containers that went straight into the ‘chuck at assholes box’—“ Sam huffs— “and notebook pages, scribbled down in my horrible six-year-old handwriting.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was just fine.”

“I could never get the ‘g’ to look right, it always looked like I was trying to write a nine with a limp.”

“A limp?”

“Yeah, like it tried to hop along and sprained its ankle.”

“Nines are supposed to be curly at the end.”

“What? No, they aren’t.”

“You ever looked at your phone? The nine is curly at the end.”

“Yeah but no one ever writes ‘em like that.”

“It’s supposed to be like that!”

“So that’s how you write ‘em?”

“Hell yeah, that’s how I write ‘em.”

“Well, good for you.” Bucky chuckles. “My ‘g’s looked more like a nine with its tail broken, how’s that?”

“What’d you do to the ‘g’s, man?”

“Apparently, six-year-old me decided they were too hard to draw. But Mama never had a hard time deciphering my handwriting.”

Bucky’s voice goes back to that quiet nostalgia as Sam cups the mug of tea between his palms.

“She’d pick a scrap from the box and decide that’s what she was gonna bake. A surprise when I came to see what she was doing. Sometimes she’d have me stick my hand in there and grab one instead. Then I’d stick around to help.”

Bucky huffs a laugh, letting his head drop for a second.

“But she always had one recipe memorized.”

Sam shifts. “Which one was that?”

“Mama Barnes’s chocolate chip cookies,” Bucky murmurs, looking back up, “her favorite thing to bake because she could do it with her eyes closed.”

He looks up at Sam.

“Or in the dark, when it was too dangerous to have the lights on.”

Oh.

Sam swallows. “Thank you, Buck.”

Bucky waves him off, shaking his head. “Actually, it’s, uh, kinda selfish of me.”

Sam frowns as Bucky turns, walking over to another cupboard and taking two bags down from the shelf.

“Couldn’t decide which one to use,” he says, holding up a bag of name-brand chocolate chips and a fancy chocolate chunk bag from the last big fancy thing they were invited to, “needed your input before I started.”

Sam blinks. “You’re having cookies and biscuits on the same night?”

“Well, I’m not going to sleep anytime soon,” he says easily, “and I figured you still owe me from that bet you won.��

“Oh ho, I see,” Sam says, sliding off the stool, “you think you’re gonna get out of this by making me choose and not me telling you what to do?”

“I think you’re either gonna sit there and drink that cup of tea while I do this or you’re gonna get your ass over here and help me.”

“Well then move your ass,” Sam says, bumping lightly into Bucky’s shoulder, “and get to cleaning off that pan.”

“You haven’t picked yet!”

“We’re not using those chunks, man, we’re saving those.”

Bucky shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

“And put these outta harm’s way,” he calls, passing Bucky the plate of biscuits, “I ain’t risking you getting butter and flour all over ‘em.”

Bucky just chuckles and sets the plate on the far end of the counter. He turns around to pass Sam the chocolate chips when Sam takes his hand and just holds it.

Holds it and breathes.

Bucky lets him, shifting slightly into guard dog mode, his shoulders dropping as Sam lets his eyes close for a moment.

In.

Out.

“Thanks.”

Bucky squeezes. “You want the plastic mixing bowl or the ceramic one?”

“Gimme the ceramic one, these are gonna come out right.”

“I take it you want the good tray as well, then.”

“Of course I do, what do you think this is?”

Baking, together, in the dark, where it’s safe and quiet, at three in the morning.

#tfatws #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #winter soldier #marvel #mcu #dragonbabbles #fic #winterfalcon #falcon

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greatbigbellies · 3 years

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New commission story. This is an anonymous slice of life piece about a woman hyperpregnant with overdue decuplets. This one’s a little different from my usual stuff cause it focuses so heavily on a unique form of belly. Contains hyperpregnancy, light belly worship, extreme fetal movement, and an incredibly tight, almost shrink-wrapped style of pregnant belly. Enjoy!

Molina waved goodbye as her midwife left, the kind woman getting in her car, off to another housecall most likely. The midwife had given the heavily expectant woman a clean bill of health, despite her... unique medical challenges. Molina was indeed a special case in more ways than one, just looking at her with no medical experience at all was the proof one needed for that.

For starters, she was gigantic, her belly stretching well past her knees when she sat down. She measured in the neighborhood of eighty inches in circumference. This was due to her extraordinary pregnancy, as she carried decuplets, and was presently 2 years past her due date. However, her belly wasn’t perfectly round like one would expect, instead looking uneven, lopsided, and in some areas, almost shrinkwrapped to her unborn babies. This was due in part to her being 33 months pregnant, and also partly because her body wouldn’t produce enough amniotic fluid. As a result, her normally plump, rounded pregnant belly was instead tight, lumpy, and left every movement on display.

And movement there was, as ten strong, overgrown fetuses would shift, kick, punch, and lurch constantly, vying for room where there was none. At times, her whole belly would writhe with fetal movement, as it did during her midwife appointment. Her belly wobbled and squirmed while the poor midwife tried to take an ultrasound with her portable doppler. The resulting images were… blurry to say the least, but she somehow got what she needed. Even now as she closed the front door and waddled inside, Molina’s brood squirmed restlessly inside her.

“Ooomph, calm down in there, I’m going!” she chided them, which only seemed to rile them up more. She slowly waddled to the kitchen to grab a snack, something she did a lot. Due to her size, she didn’t have a lot of room in her squashed stomach to eat, but she needed the calories, so she would constantly snack throughout the day. She awkwardly grabbed some leftover pizza from the fridge, having to turn to the side to reach it past her mountainous belly. She didn’t even bother to heat it up, as the wait would require more standing. She slowly made her way to the couch, and flopped down into it, causing her belly’s contents to kick and squirm about. “Oof, guys I’m eating right now,it’s fine. There's no more ultrasound wand rubbing against my tummy, you can chill,”

Molina rotated and propped her feet up on one armrest, and laid back to prop her head on the other. The weight of her tummy resting on her lower back, hips, and thighs. One hand delivered the pizza to her waiting mouth, and the other rubbed her uneven belly, party to calm her babies, partly to remove a little leftover ultrasound gel. She felt her overstretched skin shift under her hand as baby H and G pushed on each other for space. “Be nice you two, there’s room enough for both,”

She took another bite of pizza and felt someones foot kick directly into her palm. She pushed it back in and felt something roll deep inside her womb. She looked down and saw what was probably the top of someone’s head pushed up into the top shelf of her belly. She could never take those cute pictures most pregnant women took, using their bellies as a table. Her tummy was just too uneven and lively for that. She lovingly patted the top of the head, and just as quickly as it had sprouted up, it sank back down.

Molina sighed and finished her pizza, leaving both hands free to caress the belly. Her brood calmed slightly with the introduction of food, and the calming touch of her hands seemed to soothe them more. She reached as far as she could to try to get to the front of her tummy, but alas, baby B, the front most occupant, was out of her reach. She could feel her itchy popped navel getting pushed even further out by various kicks and shifts, but could do nothing for it. She placed her hands on the sides of her belly and squeezed it lovingly before rotating back to a sitting position. She placed her feet on the carpet and leaned forward to put her weight on them, then stood up into a standing position. Her shirt rode up, and she felt her already unbuttoned shorts unzip a little.

Her clothes, as large and maternal as they were, stood no chance against such a belly. There was a time, over two years ago, where she could cover her tummy completely, and even lean forward, but those times disappeared along with the view of her feet. She reached around to her waist and tried to zip her shorts back up, but alas, she was simply too big. Pregnancy had caused her body to change in more areas than just her belly. Her butt had plumped up significantly, almost giving her a back shelf, and her thighs had rounded out to a degree that could only be described as “thicc”.

She heard a knock at the door and waddled over, her massive belly wobbling left and right with each step. The front of her tummy nudged the door as she opened it, greeting a shocked deliveryman. “Uh… p-package for… Molina…” she poor man just stared at Molina’s massive, squirming pregnant belly. Her cargo took that moment to lurch, causing the many arms, hand, legs, and feet to be even more visible under the overstretched flesh. Molina smiled at him, somewhat used to this reaction. “Do I need to sign?” she asked. “Y-yeah… h-here…” he reached out with a small clipboard and pen. Molina took it, reaching just past her tummy to take it from him.

“You look concerned?” she teased him, signing the slip. “It’s just… you’re REALLY pregnant,” he stammered. “Does it… hurt?” he asked. “Not quite. Its far from comfortable, but’s not painful. It helps to have someone rub it though, would you?” she asked, taking a step forward. The mailman hesitated, but slowly reached out. His fingers brushed against the skin of her overly taught tummy before jolting back, and she giggled. “You won’t hurt me, just touch it!” As he reached forward again, one of her brood did a somersault in her womb and shifted her skin out, causing the belly to come to him. He blushed intensely and she just chuckled, causing more of her babies to move inside her. Her whole belly was alive with action now, as limbs and heads and even faces became visible under her skin. The mailman took his hand back and just stared.

“The package please?” she asked. The man shook his head and handed her a small parcel, before turning to leave. She smiled, having had her fun, and went back inside. Her belly actually let out an audible grown as she made her way back to the couch, tired from the effort of standing with so much weight on her aching back and feet. She flopped back down, causing a bit of sloshing from her womb, and somehow even more movement. She opened the package to see the specially designed stretchmark cream she’d ordered online. This stuff was a lifesaver, even after almost three years of pregnancy, not a single mark could be seen on her aching, writhing belly.

She hummed a song to herself and her babies as she opened the tube of lotion, squeezing a heaping glob into her hand. She capped it shut and rubbed her hands together before working the lotion into her tight belly skin. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and just reveled in exploring her own gravid belly. Feeling every nook and cranny between the various limbs of her babies. Her belly shifted again as movement stirred within her, strong kicks pushing into her her hands as she rubbed the lotion into her constantly shifting skin. She felt baby D’s backside against the side of her bump, rubbing it gently before moving on so what was probably a leg sticking out. There were times when it was legitimately hard to tell what was where, but she made the best of it.

In truth she just loved being pregnant, feeling the life grow in her body, feeling herself swell up with love. Its why she carried so far past term, to keep her babies close to her, and safe within her womb. She continued exploring her shrink-wrapped tummy, playing with her babies from outside. She’d push back on the little hands and feet sticking out, pat the heads that bulged out, and just generally interact with her unborn young. She jostled her tummy a little trying to reach the front to apply the lotion, and she felt several movements deep inside her pregnant gut. She worried that she’d start getting marks on the portions of her belly where she couldn’t reach, and wondered if she could talk the midwife into applying it for her at her next appointment.

She considered inviting a friend over to do it… but almost everyone in her friend group was pregnant themselves, and quite busy because of it. Except one who she admittedly hadn’t seen since she was only 3 months along… which was nearly three years ago… but it was worth a shot, Molina thought, to reconnect. And maybe get some belly rubs out of it. She pulled her phone out of her tight pocked and scrolled through her contacts until she found her… and old friend of hers, Orphea.

Orphea, somewhat nervously, walked up to the address she’d been sent, anxious to see her friend Molina again. It had been years since they had seen each other, and last time they were together Molina was 3 months pregnant with decuplets… Orphea could only imagine how chaotic it would be inside with ten toddlers running around. Still, her old friend had said she needed help with something personal, and Orphea was nothing if not loyal. Her 4 inch heels clacked against the concrete as she approached the door.

She knocked on the door and noticed the silence, the distinct lack of rampaging children… was it nap time? “Door’s unlocked, please come in!” rang the familiar sound of Molina’s voice. Orphea slowly opened the door and started to step through, looking around for her friend. “Molina hun, are you okay? You were kinda vagu-” Orphea froze when she saw the massively overdue Molina, sprawled across the couch. She simply stared at Molina’s active, wriggling belly, taking in every limb, face, and body on display under the tightly pulled skin. “Oh my God Molina! What… happened?” she stammered, slowly stepping in and shutting the door behind her.

“I… nothing happened, I’m fine, I’m just very pregnant!” said Molina, placing her hands on her belly, as if she needed emphasis on th fact. “But… you look absolutely vacuum packed, I can see every movement in there!? Are you sure you’re okay? Is this healthy?” Orphea nearly shouted, a little freaked out at the sight of such fecundity. “I promise you, I have weekly doctors and midwife visits, everyone in here in safe and healthy,” Molinda assured her friend. Orphea shook her head in awe, unsure of what to do. “I”m sorry it’s just… you’re a sight!” she said. Molina beamed at the compliment, “Thank you! I owe it all to these little guys!” she rubber her beyond-drum-tight tummy lovingly.

“Which brings me to why I invited you here,” she stated. “I’ve gotten so big I can’t reach my whole belly, and I need someone to apply lotion to my tummy so I don’t get stretchmarks,” she explained. Orphea blinked. “You mean you want me to touch… that?” she pointed at Molinas mountain of a belly. “What? It’s just a pregnant belly!” replied Molina. Orphea blinked incredulously. “Have you never touched a pregnant woman’s belly?” Orphea blinked more. “Well… I have… just not one so… overdue. How many months past due are you?” “twenty four,” stated Molina matter of factly.

Orphea sighed. It was just a pregnant belly. Just a very large, very lumpy one. And Molina had taken care of her in the past. “Alright, sure, why not? Where’s your lotion?” she finally asked. “Heads up!” Molina tossed the tube to her friend, who caught it effortlessly. Molina shifted around on her butt, before laying down to expose as much of her pregnant belly as possible. “So like…” she gestured with her arms, painting swaths over her orb of a tummy to show where she could reach, “These areas are fine, I can reach this stuff,” She pointed toward the front hemisphere and her underbelly, “but these areas I can’t get on my own anymore. If you’ll lotion those up I’ll order takeout and feed you for your troubles,”

Orphea knelt next to her friend’s writhing tummy. “You don’t have to…” she paused as a foot stuck directly out of the womb, stretching the belly skin toward Orphea’s head. “...You like panda express?” she changed her tune. “Love panda express,” smiled Molina, whipping out her phone to place the order through an app. Orphea reached up and squeezed a heaping glob of cold lotion into the front of Molina’s titanic tummy, eliciting a shiver from her friend. “Oooh, that skin is so sensitive,” “S-sorry,” apologized Orphea. She slowly reached over, still freaked out at the tightness of the skin, and the amount of movement she could see.

She took a breath, steeled herself, and laid her hand on it. And… it was… fine? Uneven, sure, and warm to the touch, but it was just skin. She felt a tiny fist push up into her hand, but it didn’t really bother her. She’d felt a fetus move in a pregnant tummy before, this was the same, just stronger. She settled into small, circular movements as she worked the cream into Molina’s gravid gut, and smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Molina sighed and visibly relaxed at her touch, settling into the couch more. Orphea’s fingers brushed over Molina’s very popped belly button, and she cooed in response, something Orphea thought was very cute.

“Mmmm, thank you again for coming over. This is really nice,” said Molina as she relaxed. Orphea added more lotion and continued massaging the glowing belly, working the smooth substance into every nook and cranny. “Yeah, anything for a friend!” she replied. Molina felt baby B do a somersault in response to all the touch, and the top of their head pushed into Orphea’s palm. “Is that… a head?” Molina nodded and smiled, brushing her black bangs out of her face as she looked over her phone.

“What do you like from Panda?” she asked. “Orange chicken please! And I can cover my own food, you don’t actually have to feed me,” Orphea offered. Molina shook her head, “Honestly it’s the least I could do since you came over on virtually no notice. We haven’t seen each other in over two years and you dropped everything just to rub my belly for me! I’m more than happy to feed you!”

Orphea squirted even more lotion into her hands, rubbing them together, before starting work on Molina’s expansive underbelly. This portion of her tummy actually somehow felt more tightly packed than the front, Orphea assumed it was due to the constant force of gravity pulling the babies in this direction. There was less movement down here, and more indentations and bulges from the packed decuplets. Orphea couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to be THIS pregnant, and actually have this as part of her body. Molina let out a groan, causing Orphea to peek around the massive midriff to check on her friend. “If everything okay? Did I push too hard?”

Molina’s plump lips curled into a satisfied smile, “Mmmm, nooooo, it just feels so good to have someone rub down there. I haven’t been able to reach that part of myself in over a year and the skin is so stretched, your hands feel lovely,” she explained. “Please don’t stop,” Orphea nodded and went back to work, making sure to run her finger through every divot, crevasse, and valley caused by Molina’s squirming young. She also made sure to run her hands over every lump, bump, and bulge on the expanse of pregnant flesh.

The contact seemed the rile up the lower sitting babies, as they began to stir under Orphea’s hands. The movement and contact on both sides of her skin only revved up Molina more, and she moaned and cooed at the attention she was receiving. Orphea got an impulsive idea, and sank her fingers into the bottom of Molina’s belly. Molina gasped at the sudden intrusion, and would have jolted upright if she physically could, but her belly weight kept her from doing so.

“Oh God I’m so sorry I don’t know why I did that!” apologized Orphea as she pulled her hands back. There was an awkward pause between the two before Molina squeaked out, “Do it again,” another pause. “What?!” “Please do that again, push your fingers into the nooks and crannies, it felt really good. Really stimulating,” she blushed. Orphea did as she was told, lining up the tips of her fingers with the few soft spots on Molina’s underbelly. She, more slowly this time, pushed her fingers in, causing, somehow, even more movement inside. “Oooohh… god... “ Molina sighed. Orphea blushed a little, and went back to rubbing, taking time to poke her fingers into various indents as she found them. Molina seemed to really enjoy it, and it gave Orphea another impulsive idea.

Without putting much thought into it, she cleaned the lotion off of a small spot, leaned in, and pecked the spot of belly skin with her lips.

While the belly itself was still very much in motion, the rest of Molina seemed to freeze up at the sudden affection. Yet another long, heavy pause held the pair in social paralysis. Finally, Orphea broke the ice with a subdued, “Sorry,” She couldn’t see Molina’s face past her tummy, but could still feel her stare. “Did you just… kiss me? Down there?” “I’m sorry I’m sorry. It was dumb, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did,” Orphea started to ramble, a rising blush painting her face pink. “Orphea, honey, it’s okay,” “No, no it really wasn’t,” “Orphea. I liked it,” One. Last. Pause.

“You… liked it? When I kissed your tummy?” she gently placed a hand back on the underbelly, feeling more strong, almost violent movements underneath. “Yeah… it… I don’t get a lot of attention like this, Orphea, I spend a lot of time cooped up,” she admitted. “I love this, being massively pregnant, I love each and every one of my babies. But for having 11 people in this house… I’m lonely,” Orphea scooted around to make herself visible to her friend, noticing her blush and averted gaze. “So… that was the first kiss you’ve had in a while, wasn’t it?” inquired Orphea. Molina nodded solemnly, trying not to let her loneliness, magnified by extreme pregnancy hormones, make her too emotional.

Orphea leaned over and kissed the side of her belly, causing Molina to blush intensely again. She then placed both hands firmly on the uneven sides of Molina’s massive gut and began drumming her fingers. “So you love being this pregnant, huh?” asked Orphea. Molina smiled meekly, again brushing her hair out of her face, and nodded. Orphea reached around, and tried to hold as much belly as she could in her arms, before planting a long, loving kiss on Molina’s gut. She felt the constant stirring movement of Molina’s ten kids inside her, and maximized her skin contact with it. She pushed her face into the belly, and baby F pushed back with their arms.

Molina moaned and squirmed herself on the couch, her thick thighs rubbing together as she didn’t know what to do with herself. Orphea pulled her face back, “You’re a real baby factory, Molina. If you love this, I think I can learn to love it too. Maybe we should catch up, and get to know each other a bit more,” Molina nodded, biting her lip. She hadn’t had this kind of physical contact in too long, and it felt amazing.

Orphea stood up on her high heels, bringing her to a height of 5’7”, and leaned forward, planting a strong, loving kiss on Molina’s navel. She cooed and squirmed from new overstimulation, the skin on her belly so very sensitive. Orphea took a moment to empty the rest of the lotion tube onto the bottom of Molina’s belly, reaching down with her hand to rub it in, while continuing to plant kiss after kiss onto the front area of Molina’s squirming belly.

“Wait!” cried Molina. “What? Too much! Did I overstay my welcome?” asked Orphea. “No… this feels amazing… but first…” she tapped her phone screen twice. “Okay, we have an hour to fool around before dinner gets here,” she said a little breathlessly. She leaned back into the couch, closed her eyes, and beamed, “Now… where were we?”

#writing #anonymous #commissions #not bellies

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mudpuddless · 3 years

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Q-Branch's Saturday night dish

aka. tofu & veggie noodles, because they make everything better, even nightshifts. (recipe under the cut)

Ingredients are (as the name suggests) highly variable and partially not even strictly necessary but if you want a simple simple dish you can always eat microwave lasagna, so:

noodles (instant ramen? rice noodles? leftover spaghetti? anything goes)

veggies (I used aubergine, zucchini and pea pods because thats what I had on hand. usually at the very bottom of a fridge there are at least some carrots, even in q-branch)

tofu (self explanatory. also not technically required but. ya know. just do it. q-branch typically has some on hand because it keeps for forever)

furthermore:

soysauce

sesame oil (no, its not necessary. its only a teaspoon. I'm not saying you need to add it but you absolutely need to add it)

cooking oil or butter

chili (powder? chopped and dried? fresh? or *gasp* none at all? doesn't matter. of you're cooking for the rest of the team you might want to leave that to personal preference but ya know.((if you want to join team villains, just dumb a whole bunch and dont tell anyone))

lemon juice (again not necessary but you should still absolutely put it, trust me)

garlic

onions

cream/ coconut milk (as per preference. you can always leave it out completely but it helps if you prefer milder dishes)

peanuts (just. peanuts. they can be salted or plain or leftover from some trail mix. again: check with the rest of the shift if anyone is allergic. putting peanuts in food for someone with a nut allergy won't even land you in team villains, even we aren't that bad)

sugar (or honey, if your boss happens to be the extravagant kind and keeps honey for tea around)

water (you always need water. if not for the dish because your noodles are already cooked and your veggies dont need to be steamed, you could always drink some. also take your meds.)

Then you need some kitchen appliances:

a pan, coated of possible because yes

a cutting board for this veggies you are adding because scurvy is not something someone from the 21st century should die from. also for the tofu.

a knife (NOOO) or two knives. or three if youre feeling fancy. the more the merrier and so on

a pot or kettle if you need to cook your noodles and depending on which noodles you're using.

maybe a measuring spoon, but you know. the rules were made to be broken.

NOW. COOKING *cries in teenager*

(these steps read like a choose your own adventure novel except there are no numbers because no. just follow the instructions)

#1 NOODLES:

-> if you have leftover spaghetti: good for you. onto the veggies.

-> if you are using instant ramen: prepare them like usual, except you don't add the seasoning and chilipowder and plant oil and whatever else, to make the worlds most disappointing bowl of ramen.

-> if you are using any kind of asian noodles: usually you can cook them pretty easily by playing them in a bowl and pouring boiling water on top. just let them steep and you're fine. (if they need to cooked, as in "in a pot" cooked (like spaghetti) , do that instead. if you have a choice between spaghetti and any kind of ramen, choose the ramen though)

#2 VEGGIES:

(just. pick whichever veggies youre using, again: these can grow cold so you could use left overs. just. consider what spices are already on them)

-> carrots: cut into thin slices (like wheels but more angled for fanciness points), roast in cooking oil with a pinch of sugar

-> zucchini: cut into 3 mm or 1/8 inch wheels, place in a bowl, cover with boiling water and a pinch of salt, till you like the consistency (usually 7-10 minutes), then drain

-> aubergine: steam with water and a pinch of salt until done, add more water as necessary, place aside when done

-> peapods: roast with a bit of oil and a pinch of salt, place aside when done

-> broccoli or cauliflower: split the little tree thingies into quarters along the vertical axis, roast with a bit of oil and a pinch of salt, place aside when done

-> peas or corn: if they're fresh, add them to a pan with a spoon full of water and roast in a bit of oil and a pinch of slat and sugar when they're almost done

-> any canned veggies (peas, corn, bamboo sprout slices etc): drain and put aside, canned veggies are all cooked in the canning proccess

!!! IT DOESN'T MATTER OF YOU NOODLES/ VEGGIES COOL DOWN OR GO COLD ENTIRELY, SO JUST MAKE THEM WHENEVER YOU HAVE TIME!!!

#3 TOFU

-> cut your block of tofu into cubes (circa one inch or 1.3 cm), place the cubes on a paper towel to get rid of excess water. in a pan heat a tablespoon of oil, a pinch of sugar, a pinch of salt and some chili flakes. add the tofu when the oil is hot and fry till golden brown.

!!! IT DOESN'T MATTER OF YOU NOODLES/ VEGGIES COOL DOWN OR GO COLD ENTIRELY, SO JUST MAKE THEM WHENEVER YOU HAVE TIME!!!

to finish off:

slice up some onions and roast in a bit of oil and a pinch of sugar and salt.

add crushed and diced garlic

add crushed or diced peanuts

add all your veggies and stir

add your noodles and stir

add any amount of soy sauce depending on the amount of food you're making. keep in mind the amount of salt you added to the individual veggies. (safe amounts are anything form one to four table spoons of soy sauce)

add one teaspoon of sugar

stir.

when you think you're done, keep stirring for another ten seconds.

taste: does it need more salt? sugar? soy sauce? this recipe is too vague on everything else for me to give precise measurements for the sauce, so taste test!!!

if you added too much salt, added too much chili or like coconut milk: add coconut milk

stir again

place in a bowl

sprinkle as much chili as you like on top

add (depending on your portion size and preference) half to a full teaspoon of sesame oil by drizzling it on top

stir and enjoy

use your newfound energy to take over the British government from the inside. join team villains :)

#recipe #noodles #veggies #veganrecipes #if you use the vegan ingredients #vi #cooking #asianfood

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19tozier · 3 years

Text

wish you were sober (richie tozier)

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of sex, angst, pining, reader is an unreliable narrator at best

inspired by the song wish you were sober by conan gray

[losers + reader are 16+]

if someone were to ask you when you fell in love with richie, you don’t think you’d be able to answer them.

was it when you met him, thirteen and wild and so magnetic you couldn’t stay away from him? was it when you followed him into a sewer, endlessly terrified but trying to be as brave as he made you think you could be? was it when you looked at him and realized he had grown up right in front of you, and you hadn’t realized? or was it all the little moments in between, the mundane and the electric all in one?

you have no clue. all you know is this: you’re in love with richie tozier, and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.

you bring your cup to your mouth, the edge of it pressing into your bottom lip. you don’t take a drink from it; you’re already a little buzzed, and you’re reluctant to get any drunker. you don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.

across the room from you, somehow perfectly visible despite the mass of dancing bodies separating you from him, richie leans against the wall, his arm around the waist of his girlfriend, who isn’t you.

you exhale as slowly as you can. inside of your chest, your heart feels like it is poised to shatter.

it shouldn’t shock you anymore. richie has a new girlfriend seemingly every month, a revolving-door of pretty girls that giggle when he kisses them and wear his jean jacket around school but ultimately never stay long. richie never offers explanation as to why they break up and you never ask. you’re afraid of whatever it is he might say. you’re afraid of knowing you’re not good enough for him if all of them weren’t.

you sigh. you’re such a fucking cliche. falling in love with your best friend, silently pining away as if it’ll make him notice you? you’d gag at the thought if it wasn’t your life.

a shoulder brushing against yours distracts you from your thoughts, and you glance over to see stan’s expectant face. he raises an eyebrow at you. “you alright?”

you want to scream. no, you’re not alright. you don’t think you’ve been alright since before you were officially a loser. but you can’t say that to stan, not without being perfectly honest, so you arrange your features into something resembling a smile. “what’s up, buttercup?”

stan scoffs. “you’ve been spending too much time with richie.”

will it ever stop hurting, the constant reminder of how close you are with richie but never close enough? “or he’s been spending too much time with me,” you say, sniffing arrogantly. the facade you put on sometimes is easier than breathing.

stan rolls his eyes. “sure, that’s it.” he pauses, squinting at you. “are you sure you’re okay? you look… upset, i guess.”

you snort, taking a sip of your drink as an excuse not to respond right away. your heart is in your throat at the idea of being caught. “you guess? gee, thanks stan.”

he narrows his eyes at you, his nostrils flaring slightly. behind him, bill is jumping onto mike’s back, laughing loudly. “shut up, you know what i meant. are you alright? seriously.”

you don’t give yourself time to hesitate. stan has a sixth sense for when he’s being lied to and won’t stop pestering you until you tell him the truth, and you’d like to not confess to him tonight. “yeah, stan,” you grin, feeling the lie like sawdust in your mouth. “i’m all good.”

he gives you a skeptical look, searching your face, but eventually he just sighs and nods. “alright, fine. if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

you nod back, glad you managed to escape that. “thanks, dude. hey, i’m gonna go grab a different drink, i’ll be right back.”

you don’t wait for him to say anything, or for anyone else to come with you. you just slip away, using the hordes of drunk teenagers to your advantage until you manage to get to the kitchen.

your shoulders slump, the smile you’d painted onto your face slipping away. slowly, you pour the rest of your shitty beer down the sink, opening the fridge and rifling around until you find a soda, stealing it before you can talk yourself out of it. whoever’s house this is won’t care, and besides, you think you need it.

when you leave the kitchen, your eyes fall to the spot where richie had been leaning. the wall is empty now.

pathetically, your eyes fill with tears. of course you know richie has a lot of sex, considering the self-satisfied smirk he’ll wear after getting fucked combined with the rumors that follow him like the perfume of whatever girl he’s seeing. the worst part is they aren’t even bad rumors; you’d lost count of the amount of times you had heard of how good a lover he is, or how his dick is as big as he’s often bragging, or how he does this thing with his mouth that feels like absolute heaven—

you’d heard enough. too much, probably. and it burrowed into your brain like the most insidious of weeds, sprouting thoughts you never should have let take root.

but of course richie was off fucking his girl. she was gorgeous, after all, easily one of the prettiest girls you’d ever seen, all smooth tanned skin and long blonde hair and hourglass figure. the kind of girl that richie deserved to have on his arm. the kind of girl that you would never be.

you knew this would happen. still, the pain of it takes your breath away.

you manage to stumble your way back over to the losers, greeting them with a smile that feels entirely too wooden. you play the part, laughing with bev and leaning into ben’s shoulder and gossiping quietly with eddie. you stick to your script, even when richie stumbles down the stairs sometime later with the girl tucked under his arm, both of their clothes in disarray and richie’s curls a wild mess. you’re such a seasoned professional that you barely miss a beat with eddie, even when your eyes find the hickey sucked under richie’s jaw and stay there.

for the rest of the night, you do your best to stay away from richie, always at least one loser between you two. you doubt he notices, too wrapped up in his girl. you think her name is sandy. she’s so beautiful it hurts.

eventually, you think it’s probably late enough that you can leave without raising much of a fuss. all of the other losers are still there, but bev’s already dozing against ben’s shoulder and bill is fighting a losing battle with his own drooping eyelids. you can probably slip out now, you figure, before you fall apart.

you manage to say your goodbyes as quickly as possible, waving as you turn to leave. you drove here with the others in stan’s car but it’s not too far of a walk. besides, the cold might do you some good—

a hand wraps around your wrist, jerking you back against a broad chest. when you turn, you come face to face with one richie tozier.

god, years later and he’s still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. his jawline is sharp and square, his shoulders broad and sturdy, a whisper of the strength he will carry as a man but no less impressive now. gone are the days of the dorky kid you first met; he’d long ago traded in his hawaiian shirts for jean jackets and ripped jeans, silver rings glinting around his fingers and a chain hanging into the open collar of his t-shirt. again, you are reminded of the rumors that constantly follow him. you’re just angry they didn’t think he was hot from the very beginning.

“where are you going?” he asks, his words slurred. he’d been downing the shitty spiked punch earlier like it was his job.

you sigh, tilting your head back to look at him. there’s another hickey just to the left of his adam’s apple. “home,” you say, simply. “i’m tired.”

he frowns, stepping closer to you. the heat radiates off of him. “but i haven’t gotten to talk to you all night,” he whines, pouting ridiculously. “i missed you.”

it shouldn’t affect you. richie flirts like breathing, with anyone who will entertain him. it’s just how close you two are that means his flirting is usually aimed at you. “sorry, rich,” you say, and you find that you mean it. “next time, okay?”

his fingers release your wrist, only to catch on the curve of your waist and pull you close. the heat of his hand burns through the flimsy material of your top. you’re so focused on trying to stay upright just from that simple touch that you almost miss what he says next.

“can i come with you?” his voice is low, rough, more of a growl than anything else.

you blink, stupefied. usually you’re quicker than this, able to keep up a banter with him that’s rivaled only by him and eddie. now, you’re left tongue-tied, the endless wanting inside of you threading around your throat and choking you. “what?”

“can i come with you?” he repeats, looking down at you with his pretty eyes. his glasses slide down his nose. you fight the urge to push them back up. “we can take my truck. this party’s kind of a bore, honestly.”

you swallow, feeling your heart stutter. “what about sandy?” your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth.

richie shrugs, casual as all hell and infuriatingly attractive. “she can last without me for a bit. i’d rather hang out with my favorite girl.” he grins at you, his dimples curving into his cheek.

it makes you want to scream. he says things like this all the time, calls you doll and baby and love like he has the fucking right, constantly says you’re the most important person in his life. and yet, he doesn’t feel the same way for you as you do for him. and he never will.

still, you’re a sucker for him. your lips curl into a weak smile. “sure, rich,” you whisper; any louder and your voice will crack. “let’s get out of here.”

he doesn’t even stop to say goodbye to anyone else, just crowding against your back and walking behind you the entire way out the front door. he’s so close that his chest brushes against your shoulder blades, his fingertips grazing over your hip. you focus on not tripping.

once you’re outside, you hold your hand out, not looking at him. “keys,” you command.

he laughs, full and bright as he digs his keys out of his pocket. “yes, nurse ratched,” he teases, dropping them into your hand. “right away, nurse ratched.”

you scowl at him, turning away to stomp your way down the block to where richie parked. it’s not a long walk but the late autumn night is chilly, especially through the thin material of your top and your skirt. you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself.

before you can really react, richie’s shrugging off his jacket, settling the heavy denim over your shoulders. he’s just wearing a plain black t-shirt underneath, the cotton clinging to his biceps and chest, and you can’t tear your eyes away, even when he murmurs, “should’ve said you were cold, doll.”

the jacket smells like him: the apple of his shampoo, the warmth of his deodorant, the smoke from his cigarettes. it shouldn’t be a pleasant scent but it is, because it means comfort. it means home. it means your best friend and the love of your life.

your shoulders slump, your hand trembling when you finally reach his truck and reach for the driver’s side handle. “thanks, richie,” you breathe, climbing into the car before he can answer.

you don’t really know what he had in mind when he asked to leave with you, but you’re too overwhelmed to handle being alone with him for too long. already, having him this close is fogging your brain. you need to get away from him so you can fall apart in peace.

you decide to just take him home and walk from there. it proves to be the best choice, because not even a minute into your drive his chin is dropping down to his chest, his eyelids closing in longer and longer blinks until finally, he’s dozing in the front seat, big body curled in your direction. it fills you with so much warmth you think you are burning from the inside out.

it should be ridiculous, how much you love him. you should be at your limit for how much you have to give, capped out a long time ago, but everyday you fall for him a little bit more. whenever he does something particularly sweet, or funny, or attractive, you feel a little more of yourself crumble away to lay at his feet. at this point, you’re more fracture than glass, crushed into a fine powder under richie’s foot.

by the time you pull into richie’s driveway, he’s snoring lightly, his glasses knocked askew on his face. part of you wants to let him sleep, but the bigger part of you knows you need to get him into the house. you already slack on your best friend duties by secretly being in love with him, you don’t need to leave him out in the cold too.

sighing, you turn the key and shut the car off, getting out and walking around to the passenger side. you shake his shoulder, gently at first, then rougher when he doesn’t respond. he grumbles, swatting at you. you can’t help but laugh, shaking him again.

“rich,” you croon, shaking him with both hands. he groans, scrunching his face up. you snicker. “c’mon asshole, you’re too heavy for me to carry.”

he pries one eye open, glaring at you. “or you’re too small to even try,” he taunts back, sticking his tongue out.

you roll your eyes, tugging him out of the car. he goes easily enough, stumbling a little bit leaning into your side as you lock the car behind you.

you weren’t kidding when you said he was heavy. he’s just so much bigger than you, tall and broad and undeniably masculine. you try your best to take some of his weight with an arm curved around his waist, but you don’t think you’re really doing anything.

the lights are all off inside, richie’s parents gone for the weekend at some conference for his dad’s work. it makes you feel better about how you two stumble around in the dark, knocking into the walls and tripping over the stairs. finally, without much incident, you make it into richie’s room, depositing him on his bed before he can fall and brain himself on his table. his desk light is on, throwing the room into shadow but just light enough for you to see his face.

his curls spread around him on his pillow, his eyes already closed. he’s on top of his covers but there’s not much you can do about that. the only thing you can do is untie his boots and pluck his glasses from his face, letting him get as comfortable as he can with his clothes still on.

you stop, looking down at him. he’s almost angelic in his sleep, peaceful and quiet for probably the only time in his life. he’s so gorgeous like this, vulnerable, unguarded. it makes you feel like a creep to be looking at this without his knowledge. or his approval.

biting your lip, you turn to the door, only stopping when you realize you still have his jacket. carefully, you shrug it off, going to lay it on his bed when his voice stops you.

“keep it.”

you look up to see his eyes half-open, locked on you. the lamp throws his face into sharp angles and shadow, but the expression on his face is soft. his fingers stretch towards you.

“it looks good on you,” he continues, his voice barely more than a whisper. “you should wear it all the time.”

you don’t know what to say, frozen at the foot of his bed. it feels like everything you’ve ever wanted, before you remember that he’s drunk and out of his mind. he probably thinks you’re sandy. there’s no way he’d ever say that to you.

but he keeps going, his voice rough, smooth velvet over steel. “you look good all the time. makes me feel insane. just wanna touch you but i can’t.”

your heartbeat is pounding in your ears. through trembling lips, you manage to get out, “what about sandy?”

he shrugs, a tiny movement that feels unsure. you’ve never seen him shy like this. the fact that sandy’s likely the reason makes you burn inside. “she’s cool and all, but she’s not you. you’re my best friend, (y/n). i love you.”

you gasp softly, nowhere near loud enough for him to hear. your heart feels like it’s being pulled in two. “i love you too, rich. more than you could ever understand.”

but he shakes his head firmly. “no, you don’t get it. i love you. you’re my—you’re my other half. my partner in crime. i’d be lost without you.” before you can respond, he sighs and whispers, “wish you were my girlfriend. not sandy.”

his eyes slip closed the next instant. as you stand there, simultaneously turned to stone and burning alive, he gives a soft snore, his features relaxing in sleep.

you stare down at him for what feels like centuries, suddenly too old to move. you look down at the jacket in your arms, then back up to him. a loose curl lays against his forehead. your fingers itch to push it behind his ear.

“i wish you were sober,” you whisper. he doesn’t twitch.

you leave the jacket laid at the foot of his bed when you go.

(part two)

#richie tozier #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier fanfiction #the losers club #the losers club imagine #the losers club x reader #my writing

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secret-time-is-here · 3 years

Text

An Error's Journey

Chapter 34

Previous - First - Next

The following day he woke up bright and early, carefully maneuvering his way out of Nightmare’s cuddly embrace and making his way down to the kitchen before even Horror had awoken. Learning to make coffee from Ccino had become a great way to take his mind off things, and he could finally put his knowledge to the test by treating everyone as sorry for scaring them so much in the past months.

Thankfully, their kitchen, while old, was large and expansive. Many things had been updated over the years, the counter had probably been replaced at least a dozen times since Nightmare had made his home in the Castle, and the appliances were often switched out for whatever was best at the time. Though through the decade he can remember and the decades still fuzzy in his memory of himself scrounging off Nightmare, the layout of the massive room had never changed.

The Fridge still sat next to a long cabinet and a nook for drink-making of any sort, the cabinets reaching much lower than the tall ceiling of the room-yet still too tall for Killer and Dust to reach; Error and Horror able to get to them easily, and Nightmare an exception because of his tendrils. The sink rested in the light of the large single window the room held, its curtains high and hard to reel back. The main stove top lay separate from any oven, square center of the room and leaning to the edge of their island. Then lastly, they had several ovens stacked in the corner, covered by wood and made to look like a fake cabinet.

He already had a bag of fresh beans he bought the day before at the coffee shop he and Dream went to, the beans grinding away noisily as he began to make the few treats Ccino had always taught him. With the muffins baking away nicely in one of the ovens, he started on the next recipe-although his secrecy did not last.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” Nightmare spoke, a yawn bleeding through his tone as he leaned against the doorway. Error gestured to everything around him, “It was rhetorical, Ru.”

Nightmare moved away from the doorway and sat up at one of the barstools at the island, watching as Error attempted to make scones, following the instructions of an old yellowed piece of paper to the letter. “...You’re using Ccino’s recipe?”

“Yeah, he’s been teaching me ta bake ‘n stuff ta get my mind off things.” Nightmare’s tired expression sprouted a soft smile, “What?”

“You forgot the heavy cream,” Nightmare nodded to the mixing bowl, “That or you didn’t add enough, it’s not the right color or consistency right now.” Error nodded, slowly correcting the mistake until it was just right.

Things continued on in silence with Nightmare giving a small pointer here and there until the scones began to bake. By then the coffee had long since been ground and finished, and they both nursed their mugs and snacked on muffins as they waited for everyone else to wake.

“How’d ya notice?” Error quietly asked, Nightmare humming in question, “That the scones were off at the beginning?”

“Who do you think Ccino got the recipe from?” Nightmare’s smile was coy, his posture sly yet confident, “I would’ve written it down myself, but at the time all those years ago, I was unaware of how to write English, and I only knew how to speak old English.”

“...You used to bake?”

“Well, yes. Despite the insanity that plagued me for years, my memories are quite intact, even from before my insanity. I used to bake for the only friend I had, and I have seemingly carried it on as stress relief, granted I let Horror do most of the cooking and baking now.”

“...only friend?”

“Yes, while I don’t like to talk about that time, I did have one friend. Although looking back perhaps… we could’ve been considered closer.” Nightmare sighed, rubbing his thumb against the outer edge of the cup as if caressing the face of a loved one, “...he’s long gone now, though; and I have rebuilt my life the way it was meant to be, with new friends and dare I say you as well.”

Error smiled.

“With how much you two tiptoe around using the word ‘love’ you might as well become a tightrope act,” Cross called from the doorway, the gang proceeding to laugh their asses off behind him. A surprising thing for sure considering he already used his blunt ballsy statement for the year.

Nightmare’s skull flamed with a teal blush, lilac embroidering the edge and freckling his expression. Error only laughed, a yellow blush wide on his face-blue and red freckling his expression as well.

“They are kinda cute ya’know.” Ink murmured, nodding his head to the yellow-dressed skeleton and purple-clad skeleton laying in his lap. Purple held a long stick, carefully weaving together dandelion-stained cotton. The two cuddled together underneath a large radiating black and gold apple tree.

The two shared bright blushes-Yellow with soft yellow, Purple with lilac. He and Ink watched from the shadows of a far-off tree bordering the forest, covered with the dark of sunset.

Purple suddenly got up, dragging Yellow with her. Together, the two walked the short distance away to the small shack he knew so well, walking inside. Shortly after, the small candlelight from the attic window blew out.

“They look so much like them...” Error finally responded, voice full of grief.

“Well, those two are the next guardians, makes sense they’d look like them.”

“...Have ya been watching them?”

“Yeah, just like we promised… a little hard to keep track though, would probably be best if we split up.” Ink stood up and dusted himself off, “Who’s your pick? Yellow’s got a more interesting schedule-visiting the village nearby and helping out, Purple just stays at…” Ink trailed, before deciding whatever he was gonna say wasn’t right, “-she stays back here.”

“Gonna guess ya wanna watch after Yellow?” Ink nodded a little too enthusiastically, “I’ll take Purple then, good luck Inky.”

His eyes cleared, and Nightmare looked concerned, no doubt feeling his sudden confusion, grief, and sadness. The lilac that embroidered his blush seemingly disappeared. The gang looked on in shock, and he barely caught Hearts guilty expression before he walked out of sight.

-----

Nightmare fretted over him for a time after that but eventually agreed to let him leave the mansion yet again. Through his glitchy tear in space, he walked into the back of his office. Everything was strewn everywhere, and he cringed thinking of attempting to box it all up to move over to the Sapphire location. One thing stood out, however. Dream’s scarf, now fully repaired and carefully washed, sat in a box with the lid next to it.

Looking at it, the old fabric truly did look like the color of dandelions, just like the cotton Purple had been weaving in that sudden memory. That had to be who Dream was talking about yesterday… but the memory was triggered by Nightmare, which isn’t helped by Dream acting weird about who had made the scarf… Nightmare even had his own recipe for scones too.

More to think about. More to question.

While he would prefer to not pick about Nightmare and his past, that doesn’t mean he can’t pick about Dream and his past, and maybe possibly accidentally find out about Nightmare. Making a quick call, he promised to meet up with Dream in several hours at the library, so he could spend the hours prior looking for the book he knew so well.

A change of clothes later then grabbing the box, he made his way out the door, making his way to the Grand Omega Library easily-and to the forbidden section even easier. The forbidden area was far too expansive to ever reorganize, so the book still sat in the same spot.

Sitting down, he smiled reading the name of his old professor on the cover of the book, a picture of Dream smiling on the cover.

“That I do… If not trade a secret, may we have a trade of information? I am sure you were unaware of at least one thing I listed.”

“Hmm, I dunno, I’m pretty sure I knew all of what ya listed. Isn’t it written down in a book ‘bout ya in the back of the forbidden area of the grand Omega Library...? Written by an old professor at the local college?” Dream’s expression paled with shock, “Not so safe, is it?”

Error nearly laughed aloud at the memory, he practically knew the book by heart, it had been his professor’s crowning jewel. Yet, this was the only book written on Dream, and as much as he knows he won’t-he hopes he can find something out in the confines of its pages.

Getting himself comfy, he begins to read the accursed thing for the hundredth time. His eyelights glaze as he reads each and every word, desperate to find any secret meaning.

“...I was not born a God.” Dream muttered darkly as if reliving the experience that turned him into one-which Error was sure was not happy.

That for sure had never been in the book, what else did Dream hold from the public? There isn’t one mention of his old friend, even when asked about his scarf, just saying it’s old and handmade. In that memory, Ink had called Yellow and Purple guardians, not Gods. Yet, he doesn’t want to jump to any conclusions. A fuzzy memory isn’t solid evidence.

“Oh my, hello Lapse.” Dream chuckled, interrupting his thoughts, “You do know that if you really needed that detailed of a report on me, you could simply ask yourself.”

“Sorry, Dream. I was hoping that maybe I could get some finer details on your previous outfits from this, or even what your first outfit was made from.” He pulled his glasses off, stuffing them away in a pocket as he carefully put the book back.

“Oh? Well truth be told, I do not even know that one.” Dream shrugged, “I do not exactly have parents or family to speak of...”

“Can you expand on that?”

“Well, uh…” Dream looked around the library, and seemed to search for anyone else, “Honestly, Ink and Blue do not even know of this… I am not quite a skeleton.” Dream kept his eyes away, “Technically, I am a spirit in a skeleton body. I was ‘created’ as a spirit, and later grew to sort of form this body and clothes.”

Dream nervously rang his hands, “So… I truthfully do not know.”

“A spirit?”

“Yes, it is why I was able to change… to wield the power I do, I have much more magic than the average monster. Also hence why I can sense the emotions of others, and later learned to detect lies and souls. Also why I don’t have a normal white soul like monsters should have.”

“Wait, your soul-?”

“It’s yellow,” Dream softly smiled, blush forming on his cheeks from embarrassment-a soft yellow to match the blush in his memories, “well, more like a yellow flaming apple.”

“Apple-?”

“Yes, I gained my God status from eating a powerful apple, and Nightmare likewise… granted they ate more than I did...”

The two cuddled together underneath a large radiating black and gold apple tree.

“You’re… you’re from the same AU?”

“Well… yes. Nightmare has all but announced their cutting ties with me, so I am not surprised you are unaware.” Error was flabbergasted, “Oh dear… sorry to drop all this on you. Just nice to finally tell someone, you know?”

Error forced himself to nod and smile.

This changed everything.

-----

With the scarf handed back and some final notes for Dream’s outfit, Error headed on his way again, leaving to talk with Death in his realm. The realm was bleak as always, the vultures and other hated creatures of the like roamed happily, and in the middle of the bleak world sat Death talking on his phone.

Looking up, the other saw him and seemed surprised yet happy.

“Hey!” Death called, getting up and running over, “Uhm… I know you don’t really like each other that much… but, as friends, would you like to join me and Ink to visit a coffee shop?”

Error was so tired of all the bullshit that had been going on, he honestly didn’t care anymore, “Sure.”

Grimm’s smile was all the reward he needed, and his mind flashed to the memories he now had again of Death’s bright smiles. “Alright! Ink- yes, yeah. Alright, see ya soon!” The God’s expression was so joyful for once, and the other quickly dragged him by his sleeve through a portal.

They arrived in the alleyway just outside of a loud bustling street, the sun high in the sky and the air crisp with the chill of the coming fall. Grimm, for once in his life, pulled back his hood and unfastened his cloak. Showing off an outfit perfect for autumn: a long-sleeved deep gray turtleneck adorning his top, black slacks decorating his legs, and boots covering his feet.

“Do I look good?” Death asked, gesturing to the outfit, one eye alight and a hint of a blush on his cheekbones. Error rolled his eyes, cracking a smile.

“I thought this was as friends?” He teased, and Reaper sported a cute pout.

“Rude. I can look amazing even if just for a hangout, not often I get out and interact with the mortals.” Death defended, hands on his hips.

“Yeah, yeah superstar.” Error laughed, still tired, but the lighthearted banter helping his mood. “Come on, ya Inky’s waitin’ for ya.”

Out they walked along a very familiar road, and just outside an even more familiar coffee shop, Ink waved at him.

“Error! I didn’t think you’d actually come!” Ink bounced, “Guess my surprise when I found out you and Death were besties!” Error raised a brow at Reaper, and the other just shrugged apologetically, “Come on! I haven’t tried this place yet!”

“You sure we need to go to this place…?” Error eyed the store, following them as they walked in.

“Is there a problem, Ru?” Death softly spoke

“Not exactly...”

“Oh- hey, Error.” Ccino called from the counter, “Wasn’t expecting you back already.”

Ink looked between the two in shock, and so did Death, “Uh, table for three?”

“Yeah Ccino, I’ll take my usual, and ya can put our order on my tab.” Ccino nodded and then directed attention to Death and Ink, who were both still very shocked.

“Uhm… Black coffee for both of us.” Ccino nodded once more and wrote it down, saying it will be done in a moment and pointing to a free table.

Silence ensued as they waited, much of the cats in Ccino’s little cat cafe congregating around him in some way, one that looked just like Nightmare sat in his lap. Ccino dropped by just before their drinks were done with some triple chocolate cookies, a part of Error’s usual order. Ccino merely smiled innocently and gave a knowing look over at Death and Ink, to which Error rolled his eyes.

Death and Ink still stared on in silence until their drinks came. Error with his extreme cocoa concoction and Reaper and Ink’s plain black coffees.

“...So- you come here often?” Ink started, breaking the tension.

“Yup. Why exactly did ya want me ta join?” Error questioned, relaxing into his chair and taking a long sip from his drink.

“Well, sorry to say, but you were our second choice- I was gonna invite my friend Lapse but he didn’t answer.” Error had to stop his sip mid-way, nearly dropping his poker face. Suddenly, the muted phone in his pocket felt much heavier. “But we wanted to meet each other's closest friends!” He wanted to laugh so badly but kept his facade. He almost felt touched hearing his alter ego was Ink’s closest friend.

“Isn’t that Lapse guy some up-coming hotshot in Omega?”

“Yeah! I’m surprised you know of him?”

“I got my ways,” Error shrugged, “Didn’t know ya two were close though.”

“Well, anyone who can deal with me I consider a close friend, and he’s an understanding guy!” Ink smiled despite the depressing undertones. “Oh- that reminds me, why’d you come along anyway? Not to be blunt but… usually, you’re not this open to new things.”

“...Eh, got tired of fighting things off, better to just go with the flow a’ things right now.” Error shrugged.

“Nice to see somethings can change.” Death smiled, trying to lighten the room.

“Heh, unlike your coffee addiction.” Error laughed, and Grimm brought back his adorable pout.

Thankfully, Ccino interrupted before Death could argue.

“Sorry, all.” Ccino started setting a wrapped box down, “The boys called in for some treats-would you take it over to them?”

“Sure, could ya get me their usual drinks too? Wanna spoil ‘em some-and pop it on my tab again.” Ccino smiled knowingly and walked away-promising to bring the to-go drinks soon.

“The… boys…?” Ink trailed, “Also-how in the world do you have a tab?? I mean, you’re a world-destroyer, don’t really know how you'd be making any money.”

Error smiled, repeating himself: “I got my ways.”

“Aw… I’ll find out those ways someday!” Ink now pouted too

“Well, maybe someday Error can reveal his secrets...” Death smiled

“I still don’t know what you see in that short asshole.”

“Well, for one I can touch him without killing him, two he’s actually a great friend and cuddle buddy.”

“Uhuh, you really think he’s one of the two?”

Error scowled in return.

His team was complete.

All characters belong to their respective creators

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qingxin-s · 3 years

Text

༉₊˚✧ꜱʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ : ʜᴀᴡᴋꜱ x ꜰ.ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

synopsis: she was a journalist, adamant on gaining information about the heroes she adored so much. he was a up and coming hero. could i make it anymore obvious?

word count: 2,742

genre: slow burn, strangers to lovers

warning(s): cussing, slight mention of attempted assault, not proof-read, reuploaded from my old account

Closing her door with a click, she let out a sigh- a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in. Today had been…rough to say the least. Her only day off work in 3 months and she had to spend it chasing up reports from her employees, reading through them and then the cherry on top: having to buy a fresh set of clothes because a truck decided to speed past her, straight through a muddy puddle.

A meow sounded through her apartment, the clicking of claws on her tiled floor echoing. At least someone was happy to see her.

“Yes, I’m back” She mumbled as she crouched to the floor, running her hands through her cats silky fur. Instead of taking the route her friends took, settling down with a partner and maybe even having kids, she decided that work was more her thing. Meaning life was pretty simple for (Y/N)- simple, but lonely. All she had was her cat, Minx, but she managed to convince herself that was enough.

She stumbled into her kitchen, the time on her clock reading 11:35 pm. Damn, she didn’t even realize she was out for that long. It was too late for her to cook a full meal now- it would require too much effort. So instead, she settled on some chicken ramen and called it a night.

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

“Work you stupid thing” The girl hissed as she slapped her computer screen, the loading bar almost taunting her. She really wasn’t in the mood for this today. First her day off was stolen from her, then she got drenched in puddle water and then…she was called into work at 6am.

Why she went into this line of work was beyond her. She enjoyed it at first, but slowly she lost passion for it- and passion was important in a job like this. She was a reporter, a very well renowned one at that. You’d tune into your local news channel and see her name in block capitals. And her specialty? Heroes.

She was notorious for being pushy, stopping at nothing to get the interviews she desired. Hell, she even managed to score one with Endeavour.

“Ma'am, I’m really sorry to bother you but can you check this article for me?” One of her employees asked shyly, breaking her from her train of thought. It was her intern, Izuku, stood with a thick stack of paper tucked between his arms. He was young, much younger than any other intern she had hired before. But he had spirit- and that’s all that mattered.

“You’re not bothering me at all, in fact you saved me from breaking my computer” She smiled, happily taking the stack from his arms. In all honesty, he was one of her favourite employees she had. Young, intelligent, actually excited to do his job. She cleared her throat as she skimmed over the paper, taking in every detail.

“Hawks, huh? He’s very new to the hero world right?” (Y/N) hummed as she flicked through the pages, and he nodded his emerald haired head eagerly.

“Yep! He’s gained a lot of attention recently, and when I reached out to him- he said he’d be more than happy to do an interview!” He exclaimed, and she couldn’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. Grabbing her f/c coat from the back of her chair, she began walking- beckoning for him to follow her.

“C'mon then, kid. Let’s go meet him”

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

Turns out, Hawks was very happy to do an interview with her agency. He agreed to meet up with them in a local café, and as they were waiting she spotted Izuku chewing his nails anxiously.

“You nervous?” (Y/N) asked as she took a sip of her coffee, and he smiled at her sheepishly. She completely understood, she was nervous when she conducted her first ever interview. But she believed in him. She reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

“You’ve got this” She grinned, and he exhaled. The door bell chimed and he stood up immediately, the hero they were waiting on walking in. He looked young- maybe around her age- and he carried himself in a very odd manner. Blonde, unkept hair that fell around his stubbly face. Large crimson wings that sprouted from his back. She didn’t even notice she was staring until Izuku cleared his throat.

“T-thank you so much for coming!” He greeted nervously, eagerly shaking the heroes’ hand. Hawks sent him a smile as he sat beside him, scratching the back of his head.

“Of course. Anything for your bosses agency” He grinned, and their eyes met for a split second. His bosses agency? So he knew who she was? He had read some of her works? They held the eye contact, his golden orbs softening- and she quickly looked away. Maybe this new hero was more interesting that she thought.

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

The sky had turned gold when they had finally finished up, it’s soft glow bathing them as they stepped out of the café. The interview had gone surprisingly well considering how little experience her intern had. He was evidentially anxious as he asked the first few questions, but that melted away very quickly. And after ordering him a taxi home, she was left alone with the hero in question.

“Thank you so much for doing that, Hawks. He was so excited when he came into my office earlier” The h/c haired girl smiled as she did up the buttons to her coat, but she still shivered. It had quickly turned cold, the breeze assaulting her as it blew through her. Hawks chuckled quietly as he ran a hand through his messy locks.

“It was my pleasure. The kid seems really into it” He smiled, and she nodded her head in agreement. Before she could say anything else, the phone on his belt pinged- and he rolled his eyes in response.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta take this. But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around” He winked and in a split second, he was gone. What did he mean…he’d see her around?

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

A few weeks had passed since their initial interview with the winged hero, and in that time his popularity had grown massively. He was on the cover of local newspapers, he was featured in adverts for food products, he even had fangirls.

Speaking of, even they loved Izuku’s interview. Critics praised it for being so professional, so well put together. Which of course, made the boy beam. And has a treat, she decided to take him out for some ramen.

“This is so good!” He hummed happily with a mouthful of noodles, making her laugh. Her head was buzzing a little from the beer she had drunk to accompany her food, she could feel her face flush because of it.

“I’m glad, you deserved it” She grinned, and he shoved more food into his mouth in reply. Leaning back slightly in her seat she sighed, swirling the contents of her drink around in her glass. Since the interview, she just couldn’t help but think of Hawks. He was just so…so captivating. The door of the ramen shop creaked open, but she couldn’t be bothered to look up and see who it was.

“Can I get some chicken ramen, please?” A familiar voice sounded, and she heard her intern slam his chopsticks down onto the wooden table.

“Hey, you okay?” She quickly asked, his face bright red as he pointed towards the doorway. In all his glory stood Hawks, his gloved hands shoved into his pant pockets as he waited for his order- and Izuku jumped up from the table to go greet him. They exchanged a few words before the hero looked over at their table, smirking slightly- and they both walked over.

“Good evening” Hawks greeted, sliding into the seat beside Izuku, who was beaming. She smiled slightly as she put her drink down on the table, stretching slightly.

“Chicken ramen, huh? Not what I expected” She grinned as she nodded to his wings, earning a chuckle from him. (Y/N) was never any good at small talk, so she was happy to see that her small joke received a good response.

“Hey, I’m a hawk. There’s a difference” He teased back, leaning in his seat to get more comfortable. All whilst her intern looked between the two with a grin on his face. He had finished his bowl, and he seemed content.

“Thank you so much again for the interview! It did really well, so (Y/N) treated me to ramen!” He beamed, and Hawks smirked at her slightly. He folded his arms over his chest in a comfortable gesture.

“Oh yeah, she sounds like a great boss” The blonde replied, sending her a wink. Damn…so smooth. The waiter quickly brought over his bowl of ramen, and he quickly tucked in.

“Hey, Izuku, when do you need to be back home?” (Y/N) asked suddenly as she plucked up her bag from the seat beside her- and the green haired boy hummed in response, thinking carefully. The rest of the customers chatted happily amongst themselves, filling the shop in a comfortable atmosphere.

“Any time really!” He finally answered, and she smiled at how excitable she was. Pulling out her purse, she pulled out 5,000¥ and placed it on the table- enough to pay for all 3 of their meals and leave a tip for the workers. She beckoned for Izuku to follow her and before they could leave, she looked over her shoulder.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around” She winked, leaving Hawks with a pink face.

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

The office had quickly turned dark since the rest of her workers left and when she checked her computer clock- she was shocked to discover that it was 11pm. So she gathered her things, threw her coat over her shoulder and turned off the office lights. It was cold and wet when she stepped outside, so she shivered and wasted no time making her way home.

Cars whirred past her as she walked across the wet pavement, willing her body to go faster. She just wanted to get home to her warm cat, warm bed and cold leftovers in her fridge. As she walked, she couldn’t help but notice the second pair of footsteps quickly approaching behind her.

‘It’s just nothing, you’re fine (Y/N)’ She thought to herself as she clutched her housekeys in her pocket. But as the footsteps sped up she knew that wasn’t the case. A hand suddenly smacked onto her shoulder and spun her around, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“Hey, pretty lady” The stranger slurred, and she could smell the alcohol on their breath- making her shrink away even more. They leaned closer towards her and she quickly shoved them off, breaking into a sprint whilst they were distracted. Her chest heaved as she ran, contracting as she gasped for breath. One minute she was on her feet, the next- she felt herself falling.

She had tripped on a stray crack in the pavement, and she landed on the wet ground with a large thump. As she tried to scramble to her feet she could see the stranger gaining on her, their face contorted in anger.

“You bitch! You’re gonna pay for that!” They yelled, but before they could reach her- she felt herself being picked up, and she was pressed against something warm. The wind harshly whipped her h/c locks around her face, but she didn’t dare open her eyes. And before she knew it, tears began leaking down her face- staining her cheeks.

“Hey. It’s okay, you’re okay” She heard him coo as they landed on a nearby rooftop, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Her chest continued to heave as she tried her best to steady her breathing, all whilst Hawks rubbed her back gently.

“Let’s get you home” He whispered as he placed a kiss on top of her head, and all she could do was nod.

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

Keigo yawned as he stretched his arms, his legs up on the desk. He had barely slept last night after returning the journalist home. All he could think about was the possible outcomes if he had been late. Would she have gotten hurt? Would she even still be alive? But he didn’t want to think so negatively, so he shook his blonde head- as if to shake the thoughts from his mind. A knock sounded on the door, and he perked his head up.

“Yeah?” He called, signaling for the person to enter and they did. It was one of the agencies assistances, and in their hands was a large cup of coffee and a takeaway bowl of chicken ramen. An odd combination, but one he loved.

“These were left at the desk for you, sir. With a note” The assistant explained as they placed the items down in front of him before hurrying off. He plucked the note up with careful fingers, his face quickly heating up as he skimmed through it.

Hawks,

Thank you for last night, I really appreciate it. I don’t know how to properly express my gratitude, so I thought maybe you’d appreciate these.

Also, I booked a table for us tonight. At the same ramen shop as before. I hope to see you there.

Thank you

- (Y/N) x

“You smooth, smooth journalist” Keigo grinned as he took a sip from the coffee, shaking his head once more.

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

(Y/N) tapped her foot anxiously as she stood waiting outside the small store. An hour had passed since their designated time slot, and she couldn’t help but feel sad. Maybe last night was just a one off. He was a hero after all, it was his duty to save people in need. He was probably too busy for her. As she was about to turn and leave with her head hung low, she heard heavy footsteps.

“I’m sorry I’m so late! There was this guy running around stealing handbags, and I couldn’t keep up!” Hawks exclaimed as he ran up to her, and she couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face. He was holding a bouquet of roses in his hands, his usually messy hair slick back in a tidy manner.

“These are for you” He beamed as he handed them to her, and she happily accepted them. She even went as far as to stand on her tip toes and place a kiss on his freshly shaven face.

“Shall we go inside, Hawks?” She grinned, and his hand hovered over the spot she had kissed. He quickly recovered however, wrapping an arm around her waist as he opened the door for her with his other hand.

“Call me keigo”

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

The battle that ensued was deadly, it had her on edge. Keigo insisted on her staying out of it, he couldn’t bare to see her get hurt. But she wouldn’t take that for an answer, so she hung back with the medics and the other students. She wanted to be there for him- she wanted to help in anyway she could. (Y/N) knew her quirk wasn’t particularly strong, so did he.

One minute all was calm as they awaited news from what was happening on the battlefield. The next, chaos ensued- and medics filled the scene.

“(Y/N)! Get back!” She heard Tokoyami yell as a stretcher was maneuvered around everyone and finally placed on the dusty ground. They had never really spoken much before, she only knew of him due to the fact that Keigo had taken him under his wing and taught him everything he knew. And as she approached the stretcher, she understood why.

Lying there was Keigo…her love. Covered in bandages and burns peaking through in the places his skin was exposed.

“What happened to him?!” She cried as she rushed towards him, even though Tokoyami tried so desperately to hold her back. His heart hurt as he watched the scene, he knew how much Hawks meant to her.

“He…he got caught up in Dabi’s fire blast. His wings- they’re gone! They may never grow back!” He yelped as he struggled to keep hold of her, even Dark Shadow was trying his best to keep her contained. But she broke free from his embrace and she rushed towards the stretcher. Keigo’s eyes fluttered open slightly, looking around as best as he could. Until he spotted her. Her h/c hair bellowing behind her as she rushed towards him, her e/c hues filled with tears. And like an angel emerging from the heavens, she came to him- crouching beside him with her eyebrows knitted in concern.

“You’re okay now, it’s okay” She whispered, and that was all he needed.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha oneshot #mha oneshot #hawks mha #hawks bnha #hawks x reader #keigo takami #keigo tamaki x reader #anime #oneshot #fanfic #x reader

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miserabella · 3 years

Note

share a recipe tinkerbell <3..

OH last week i made the most glorious salmon bibimbap with oi muchim. (bibim means ‘mix’ and ‘bap’ means rice in korean! so it's basically a rice dish, and really lovely. and oi muchim is spicy cucumber salad)

under the cut!

disclaimer i’m not korean so i am in no shape or form saying this is the 'best' bibimbap recipe, or even an authentic family one. it's the closest i can probably get though, i looked into a few recipes and adapted them into this, and hopefully i remember everything i tweaked!

NB. i used salmon but you can substitute the salmon for anything, like other fish or meat (chicken for ex.), or if you’re vegetarian: tofu, mushrooms, or just have it with a fried egg and some spinach... the possibilities are endless :3

this served 4

stage 1: marinating and soaking (most time consuming part)

so. the rice. the best is japanese/sushi rice but you can use any kind of sticky rice (thai or round, i've heard are also good). now fellow white people listen up this is how you make rice properly (this part might be obvious for asians hehe, so u can skip reading this). you have to wash the rice once or twice, then, with some more water, leave it to soak for 30 mins. (20 is fine if you’re in a rush, but if you do this at the start and do the other steps it will have plenty of time to soak 😌). then once your 30 mins is up, just switch on the rice cooker! [there’s a note at the end for if you don’t have a rice cooker.]

ideally you want to marinate both the salmon and the oi muchim (cucumber salad) overnight, but it’s okay if you dont, ppl are busy. i only marinated for about 30 mins and it still tasted v good! but obviously the flavours will stew more if you cover + leave them overnight. also, don't get overwhelmed with the extensive preparation stage, bc the cooking takes like 5 mins literally. :)

for the cucumber: wash and peel 1 cucumber, and cut it into thin-ish circles. then toss them with plenty of salt (2 or 3 tbsp should do it or do it by eye) in a bowl or colander, and leave for about 15-20 mins.

meanwhile, start with the salmon marinade. you’ll want like 100-125g of salmon per person. cut off the skin (at this point you might want to check for bones, ask me about that if u want - i come from a fisherman's family haha) and cut them into cubes

peel and chop 1 white/yellow onion and 1 salad onion/ the white bit of a leek (here’s a video on how to chop onion efficiently, warning it's gordon ramsey, sorry - also remember to wet the knife and your hands with cold water to reduce onion tears 🥺)

peel 1/2 an apple and chop into equally small pieces. to chop also: 4-5 cloves of garlic (depending on how much you like it 😗🧄🤍) and about 25g of ginger, peeled ofc.

mix all of this (onions, apple, garlic, ginger) in a bowl and add: 1 tablespoon of honey, 2 tbsp of sesame oil, 4 tbsp of soy sauce. now you can add the salmon, mix well, cover, and leave to marinate.

back to the cucumber which has been resting with the salt. thoroughly rinse the slices to get rid of excess salt. now you have to get some clean kitchen towels and pat all the cucumber slices dry, and put them back into a bowl, to which you’ll add the yummy spicy bits! which include: 2 tbsp soy sauce, 1 tbsp sesame oil, 25 ml rice vinegar, 1 teaspoon of sugar, and a good serving of chilli flakes (i did this by eye but i would say use about 1 tbsp, or more). mix! (marinate!)

stage 2: cooking and serving (the quicker part!)

heat a bit of olive oil in a pan and fry up the salmon chunks gently (ie on a medium heat), until they become golden (first they go from dark pink to a solid light pink, and then they slowly turn golden) i fried the marinade sauce with it but you can choose not to, up to you. this takes only about 5-6 minutes.

it’s also nice to add carrot shavings/strips, bean/soya sprouts, sweetcorn, fresh spinach leaves, or fried up tat soi (i had this and the carrots, very yummy). basically any crunchy veggies that you have in the fridge/cupboard. and to top everything, some sesame seeds if you have :-)

now you can serve ! you can put all these dishes separately on the table or serve people ready made bowls with everything already put together (the rice, the salmon, the cucumber, and the extra bits)

NOTE

if you don’t have a rice cooker, first off, re evaluate your life decisions - nah i’m kidding (but fr, consider buying one it’s an essential kitchen item imo, but obvi i understand it’s not easy to have everything, i only have access to one bc my parents have one and i'm currently living at home). if you don’t have a rice cooker, your quantities are: 200g rice, with about 250ml water. after you’ve soaked the rice, and the water is boiling, you’re looking at about 15 mins cooking time, but check the instructions on your rice packet just in case.

if you have a rice cooker i assume you have your own way of calculating quantities, but feel free to ask about that too :)

#look at me im a cooking blogger #i hope this makes sense and doesnt contain too many sp mistakes!#thanks nucuuuuu #im p sure it's you i dont think anyone else would call me tinker bell *blushes*#nucu asks #mine #food

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

Freddie’s 40th birthday; Freddie Mercury x reader

*Author’s note*

In honor of the legend’s 74th birthday, as apart of my Rock Angel series, I have written up this little filler chapter centered around Freddie’s birthday. It’s unbelievable that had he lived today, we would’ve been celebrating his 74th bday. But as it is said in the Sandlot ‘Heroes get remembered, but legends never die’. Happy birthday Freddie Mercury, wherever you are, know that you are loved and are continued to be loved by generations of people that are just getting to know you or people that have followed/known you when you were alive.

Enjoy my lovelies and until the next update :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@geek-and-proud

@platawnic

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@klausidiot

@onebigfangirlworld

@naturalswifty89

@starswin

@dj-lowkey

@isabella-bby

@bohemiansweede

@5sos-wdw

@labessieisallama

____________________________________________________________

*Sept. 7th, 1986*

I was looking myself over in the mirror seeing how my cowgirl hat looked. It wasn’t anything fancy just a simple leather khaki hat that belonged to mum who gave it to me just for this party. I brushed the ends of my hair before Jack came in wearing his Indiana Jones hat.

“Look at you my little cowgirl.”

“Now don’t you dare say something naughty or else you’re going to get it.” Jack faked a gasp.

“How dare you suggest I’d say such a thing.”

“Please Jack. You may look all sweet and innocent but even you can go Freddie Mercury dirty. Or worse Deacy leveled of rottenness.”

“Never did I think he could think such thoughts.”

“You do realize that his first song Misfire was all about pre-ejaculation right?”

“Okay subject change please!” I shoved him and said.

“You started it.”

“Nu-uh!”

“Oh shut it you. Now remind me again why you didn’t want to wear a cowboy hat?”

“You know what those hats do to me. Plus….” He stroked the rim of his Indie hat, “this makes me look cooler.” His brow quirked as he smirked in the mirror trying to be sexy (which he was but I’ll never admit that out loud).

“But then we could’ve been a matching set at the party. Fred would’ve been all gushed up about it.”

“You know this day is about him right?”

“Correction two days ago was all about him. This is his birthday party. Thankfully it won’t be as crazy as last years. Yeesh. I still don’t remember how Roger and I ended up in that closet together.”

“Let alone with your shirt over his face.”

“Oh god yeah that—most awkward thing ever. But I think I recall saying something like ‘it’s too hot in this hellhole for me!’ Or some random thing like that. At least that’s what Deacy said he heard. God we had sooo much tequila that night. Never again.” He chuckled and wrapped his arm around me and pecked my cheek.

“Yeah cause I wouldn’t want to think that my wife was screwing around with her father figure.”

“EWW! Now that is something I know that not even drunk me would do. Why put that image into my brain oh god JACK!!!” he laughed as I began hitting his arm.

“Ow! Okay! Okay I’m sorry!”

“You better be. Now what time is it?”

“6:40.”

“Shit we better get going!” I grabbed his hand and we took off out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

In the living room our sitter Derek aka ‘Dancing man’ Anderson, who was also one of my roadies on tour, was already feeding our daughter.

“Okay Derek, we’re heading out. Again thank you soo much for volunteering to babysit for me. Normally I wouldn’t ask you to do this much…….”

“Relax (Y/n). I’ve had 3 kids so I know how this works. Thankfully I was in the neighborhood. Plus I get the chance to see the kid before the rest of the roadies do.” I shook my head at him.

Derek had been one of my first roadies ever since I became the Rock Angel. He was about the same age as Roger was and if I’m being honest, he’s kinda like Roger in a way. In fact if I remember correctly it was Roger’s roadie Crystal that recommended Derek to me. He’s great with electronics and lighting and he’s basically the ringleader since he’s the only one of my original team that has stuck with me for the past five years.

“Okay so her bottles are in the fridge and I’ve laid out instructions on how to warm them up. Her bedtime is in two hours, and her favorite story is ‘Oh the places you’ll go’. And ohh I know I’m forgetting something.”

“Angel, relax. I’ve got this. Jack gave me the full rundown about an hour ago while you were deciding on your hat. Give my birthday regards to Fred.”

“We will. Thanks again Derek.” Jack said as the two of them shook hands with each other.

“No prob, you two kids have fun. And don’t worry mini Angel will be safe and sound.”

“Alright, bye baby girl. Mummy loves you.” I leaned down and pecked my daughter’s cheek repeatedly then Jack came down and kissed the top of her head which was starting to sprout my hair color and told her.

“Daddy loves you too sweetheart.” Jack and I picked up our gifts for Freddie and we walked out the door and headed to the car.

To my surprise Jack actually offered to drive to Freddie’s place at Garden Lodge. I looked at him surprised and switched seats with him and I must admit I’m surprised that he’s managed to get driving in England down.

“Wow Jack I must say, you’ve really adapted to our way of driving, haven’t yah?”

“Well seeing you guys drive all the time kinda helped me out a bit more. Plus those old driving lessons from Deacy also helped as well.”

“So I got to ask. American style of driving or UK style of driving.”

“Oh American hands down. I still fear that I’m gonna ram into someone driving on this side of the road.”

“Guess we both feel that way. When your cousin Jensen gave me my first car driving lessons, I was terrified beyond belief. Not only was it something totally different, but also just driving on the side of the road that I’ve never driven on. But you’re doing good baby. I’m proud of you.” I gave him a peck on the cheek and he said.

“Hey now, no need to get frisky. I’m the one behind the wheel here.”

“You are just full of snappy comebacks today aren’t yah?” he grinned at me and continued to drive on.

After a while we finally arrived at Freddie’s place just ten minutes past 7. Jack parked the car just a few yards away from the entrance of Garden Lodge and the two of us walked hand in hand towards the entrance. I pressed the buzzer at the gate and that’s when Jim’s voice came on the intercom and he said.

‘Hello?’

“Hey Jim it’s Jack and (Y/n). We made it.”

‘Ahh the Kline couple, come right on in.’ the gate let out a buzz and Jack opened the door and tipped his hat just like Indiana Jones as he did his best Harrison Ford impression.

“My lady.”

“Why thank you Dr. Jones.” I said in my best Southern accent before walking right on in and he followed behind me.

We walked across the front garden and I couldn’t help but admire the flowers that grew down the runway towards the house. We walked up the steps and Jack knocked on the door and soon answering the door wearing a pink boa with an angel halo on top of his head was the Queen himself, Freddie Mercury.

“Well about fucking time you two got here. I was beginning to think you both skipped out on me.”

“Please Fred. If we wanted to, you’d never let us hear the end of it.” I teased him. He chuckled and smiled that wide smile of his before extending his arms out and the two of us hugged and kissed each other.

“And Jack. Handsome and dashing as ever.” Freddie praised.

“Thanks Fred.” Jack blushed.

“And a couple’s costume at that. I swear I think you two will upstage me. And I’m supposed to be the birthday boy here.”

“Oh well Fred actually we’re not doing a couple’s costume. At least not anymore we aren’t.”

“Oh well then Jack what kind of hat is this supposed to be?” Fred said as he stroked the rim of Jack’s Indiana Jones hat.

“Wow and I thought you would’ve at least seen at least one of the films. This is an Dr. Indiana Jones hat.”

“A doctor you say, well what the fuck kind of doctor wears that kind of hat?”

“He’s also an archeologist that goes on adventures Fred.” I explained to him. Freddie ahhed in understandment.

“Okay now I see. Well besides all that, come on in my darlings the party’s just beginning.” Fred opened the front door wider and allowed Jack and I to enter inside.

And amazingly while there were a lot of people there, it wasn’t as full crazed as his birthday party last year. It was mellow, quieter, people making small talk amongst friends. It was a nice change for once (especially after the after party for the Magic tour).

The party went on and as Fred and I stood side by side of each other looking out at the other party guests I turned to him and said.

“You know I’m really surprised Fred. You really mellowed out.”

“Well darling the older you get, the less of a party animal you become. Even the champ must lose at one point.”

“All these metaphors and old saying you’ve been saying throughout this past year, I swear Fred you should be a philosopher.”

“As great as some of their sayings are, they’d be boring to meet in real life. And dear I refuse to be boring.” He playfully dipped my hat forward covering my eyes. I groaned and playfully shoved him as I readjusted my hat.

That’s when I noticed a band on his right ring finger.

I took his hand and held it and looked up at him and asked him intrigued.

“And just what is this Fred?”

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know.” Fred teased me.

“C’mon Fred. You know as well as I that this ring isn’t like any of the old concert rings you used to wear ten years ago. So out with it.” Fred looked around before clasping my hand with his and he dragged me off upstairs where we would have some privacy.

We made it to his master suite and there I saw Delilah and Goliath both sunning themselves on the bed.

“It’s from Jim.” Freddie spoke softly as he stared down at th ring lovingly. “He gave it to my just before everyone got here. A sorta—one year anniversary present. I would wear it on my left hand if I could but—you know how people are these days when it comes to relationships. Especially with mine.”

I walked up to him and cupped his face between my hands. He and I stared at each other and I said to him.

“I’m happy for you Fred. Truly I am. And hell if it were up to me, I’d have you and Jim married tonight if you both wanted to.”

“I know you would darling.” He very gingerly pinched my cheek.

“And……people can be bastards. They think that sexual relationships have to be in a straight fashion. Even Johanna and Graham thought that way. Any trace of homosexuality, they’d treat them as if they were scum of the scum. They’d even tried to brainwash me into believing it as well. But thankfully I have more common sense than them or anyone else that thinks that way. Love is Love. As long as two people are happy and in love with each other, so long as they are of legal age, then it doesn’t matter.” I said as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“A lioness with a heart of gold. Your parents would be proud of you darling.” He said as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Who knows maybe one day the world can change and have people of the same sex get married. And when that day comes, I’ll be right there at your side as your Maid of honor.” Freddie softly smiled and said.

“I’ll let you plan the whole thing out if you want.”

“Good cause you know I’ve got some suggestions.”

“You did learn from the best.”

“Also I’m gonna tell you what you once told me when Jack and I first became a couple. If he breaks your heart, or makes you cry like that last bastard of a man you had, I’ll pop him off his arse till he’s in a coma.”

We both softly laughed and pecked each other’s cheeks before embracing each other tightly. “Never change my darling Rock Angel.”

“Never Freddie. So long as you never change either.”

“With you by my side, I doubt I ever will.” We both softly laughed.

“C’mon. I’m betting everyone’s wondering where the birthday boy is at.” We took each other’s hands once more and walked out of his master suite and headed back downstairs.

Everyone gathered in the back garden as Jim, Terry and Phoebe pulled out the cake (which was sculpted into the shape of an orange, black and white patterned cat standing on a podium with its paw up in the air).

Once the sparkling candles were lit, we all sang Happy birthday to Freddie. Freddie stood by his cake smiling and gushing about till the end of the song before finally blowing out his candles.

“I better not expect a girl wearing a cat costume to pop out and ruin this cake!” we all laughed and that’s when Jim came up to him and delicately cut the bottom part of the cake. As Jack and I sat together I couldn’t take my eyes off of Freddie.

He was just radiating this pure energy as he chatted away with Phoebe, Jim and his other friends that he knew outside of Queen. He truly was a ray of sunshine who made everyone laugh and smile, and I am so glad that he got out of Prenter’s grasp when he did cause this this was the Freddie I knew and loved.

“He seems happier with Jim.” Jack said to me as he ate a piece of his cake.

“He does. He finally found himself a little niche in life. And I’m happy for him.”

“So they’re really together, aren’t they?” Jack asked me. Of course there wasn’t any hatred or disgust as my husband spoke those words, he genuinely wanted to know whether or not Freddie and Jim were seriously an item or not.

“They are. And I can see that it’s real love between those two. I hope they stay together for a long, long time. They’re good for each other.”

“I’ll admit it, even though I’ve never really seen a gay romance for myself. I think they really do love each other.”

“It’s just like us. Like Deacy and Ronnie, like any other straight marriage or relationship. It doesn’t matter the gender of the person so long as two people love each other and care about one another. Love is Love.”

“I can get behind that.” Jack said as he nuzzled his face into my neck making me giggle softly.

It was about an hour after sunset when the party finally came to a close. Everyone bid their goodbyes to Freddie and when I had invited Fred and Jim to come and have tea tomorrow, that’s when I found out that they would actually be leaving for Japan tomorrow afternoon.

“Oh wow Japan. You two going on your honeymoon?” I playfully nudged Fred.

“It’s not so much a honeymoon dear. Just a way for Jim and I to get to know each other a little more without all the press and cameras stalking us.”

“Understood. Those blood-sucking leeches.”

“Tell me about it.” He grumbled.

“Well I hope you both have a safe trip and enjoy yourselves.”

“We will darling. And I’ll be sure to pick something up for the mini-angel’s birthday in a couple months. As well as a souvenir gift.”

“You know she’s still a baby right?”

“So what? Just because she’s a baby doesn’t mean I have to stop spoiling her.” I rolled my eyes and embraced Freddie and he hugged me back.

“You’re gonna drive me to early grey hair Mercury.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous darling.” He said in a posh tone. “As I’ve always said you’re gonna be an ageless beauty. It’s me and the other guys that’ll age like milk.” I slapped his arm then we kissed each other goodbye then Jack and I took our leave.

When we arrived back home, we came in to see Derek sitting on the couch watching the news.

“How was the party?” he asked us.

“Mellow but fun. How was our girl?” Jack said.

“Barely gave me any trouble, unlike my own daughter when she was that age. The only fuss she made was when I had to change her nappie before bed.”

“She’s done that with us too. Mum hopes she’ll grow out of it soon.” I said as I walked up to him.

‘Growing cases of the AIDS and HIV virus continues to climb. So far in England alone more than 1000 confirmed deaths have occurred due to the virus…..’ I shut the TV off and muttered angrily.

“I hate the news. They never have anything positive to say. All it is is just death, gang bangs, cults, economy crashes, war, or this new virus that’s been coming up.”

“Don’t let it affect you too much Angel, you don’t need to have all that negativity floating in your head. Well I best be off.”

“Thanks again Derek, I’ll send you your payment in the morning.” I told him.

“No need. This one’s on the house. Have a good night Angel, Jack.”

“Night Derek. Drive safely.” Jack told him as Derek grabbed his coat and keys then left the house.

Jack and I changed out of our party clothes and got into our pajamas and cuddled close together.

“G’night Jack.” I yawned.

“G’night my love. Sweet dreams.” Jack whispered. He kissed my forehead as the two of us fell asleep cuddled under the sheets.

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cetaceans-pls · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Momentary Vampirism, Discussion of Blood bags, Family Bonding

The one where Bruce gets turned into a vampire, and Alfred has to call in the cavalry to deal with him.

Or, Dick comes through on a Friday night to help wrangle a reluctant bloodsucker.

Bro I just kind of went off on the concept of short-term vampirism and silverware, so here’s some Alfred-Dick-Bruce bonding over Bloody Marys and the different sorts of magic. Please enjoy this pick-me-up I wrote in one weird, frizzy sitting!

On tumblr below the cut:

“I came as soon as I could!” Dick says, rounding a corner so quickly he skids on the marble floor. The text had come through almost an hour ago, but he had been on the tail end of a Zoom interview (quitting policing this pandemic has been both terrifically easy and terribly hard) so between putting on pants and getting through Friday-night traffic, this is how things lie. “How is he?”

“‘He’ is fine, Dick, thank you for concern,” Bruce says tetchily from where he’s sat in the centre of the Yellow Room, surrounded six foot deep by Wayne Manor silverware haloing out around him. The UV lights they use at crime scenes are blaring harsh violet lines around the perimeter, and further out by the edges of the room, 6 of their portable sun lamps are turned off but trained right on him.

“This is all pointless,” Bruce carries on, sweeping his arm ‘round wide in a grand gesture, hissing when a brush against a silver-plated serving trolley has his hand sizzling. “Alfred really shouldn’t have called you.”

Dick ignores him completely to turn to Alfred, who has 3 sets of rosary beads hanging around his neck and irritation hanging from his eyes. “Uhm. I didn’t read further down the text than ‘B was attacked, please come over when you can’. I’m guessing I missed something?”

“You would be guessing right, Master Richard.” Alfred whips off a rosary and hangs it around Dick’s neck, and plops three teaspoons into a blazer pocket. “We aren’t sure quite who is to blame for this latest conundrum, but Batman was struck down by something while making rounds by the Cathedral. Master Bruce appears to have become a, a…” Alfred makes a disgusted noise, “a vampire of some sort, and had insisted I lock him up in a cell till a magic-user from the League could come by and take a look.”

Dick’s ashamed to admit that on hearing the word ‘vampire’ his fist had curled tightly around a teaspoon. After all, the bluntest edge can still manifest as a shiv, if you shove it in hard enough. He’s further shamed that Bruce clearly catches his micro-movement, and he just downright hates the pleased look B has at knowing that Dick is open to bodily violence against him.

Part of the commute time to get back to the Manor almost always involves him psyching himself up to deal with Bruce, and today it looks like it’s going to pay off.

“Okay, got it.” Dick deeply doesn’t, but bluffing can be as important as actually understanding, so. “Why’s he being kept here instead?”

“No master of the Manor,” Alfred says the way a lesser man would say ‘No son of mine’,”will be tossed into some cell while in full possession of himself, thank you very much.”

“I was going to start an automated protocol to have myself manacled and emergency-signal Superman to come by and potentially put me down,” Bruce interrupts from the near distance, “but I was lured here and now I’m trapped.”

Dick catches himself halfway through a laugh; he can’t help it. If Bruce really, really wanted to, escaping this room with its myriad hazards and shining lights would be possible, especially if the situation was so urgent that he was willing to risk serious injury for it.

If Bruce really, really thought he was a danger, thought deep in his messy little heart that he really, really could hurt or injure Alfred while it was just the two of them here waiting for reinforcements, Dick knows he would have grabbed the silver steak knife closest by and, ah, taken matters into his own hands.

It’s as ingrained a response as Dick instinctively putting himself between Bruce and Alfred even while his brain was still catching up to sudden vampirism, shiv-spoon (shvoon?) at the ready.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, untenses muscles that had been ready for something awful since the text had come through. “You’re finally more bat than man, B, so don’t bother pretending to be upset.” Dick spies a tray laden with soup and bread on a little coffee table and heads over, giving up guarding Alfred because their much scarier guard dog has just sprouted fangs. “Oh, man, tomato soup and garlic bread? Alfred, you think of everything.”

“I do try,” Alfred primly says, clearly satisfied that Dick is on his side. “And if you could see your way clear to getting Master Bruce to also partake?”

“I said no, Alfred!” Bruce’s voice cracks like sudden thunder across the room, and it would have been mighty terrifying with its slight unearthly timber if the UV lights bouncing off forks didn’t make the room look a lot like a rave. Even with his eyes starting to turn red, even with the harsh edges of his shape blurring into mist, Bruce can’t quite manage to intimidate.

Everyone in the room knows that it’s just for show, now, so even paranormal powers manifesting doesn’t slow down Dick’s enjoyment of soup. “C’mon, Bruce. It’s just like a blood transfusion, except you take it through the mouth. We all routinely take worse things through the mouth.” Just last week Dick had crunched on something while eating a bowl of soggy cereal he’d accidentally left out overnight, and the certainty that it was some sort of super-armoured cockroach haunts him till this day. “Is it a supply and demand thing? You can have some of my blood bags, Alfred can take some out of me while I’m here.”

“What an excellent suggestion, Master Richard. My blood has unfortunately been turned down because Master Bruce has some spectacularly backwards thoughts regarding older folk, but surely there’ll be no complaint for yours.”

“There are plenty of complaints!” Bruce roars, now up on his feet and pacing in the little circle at the centre of all the silver. “I will not eat anyone’s blood, I will stay in this space and meditate until Zatanna shows up and cures me. There is a magic user zapping vampirism into people in Gotham, and none of this will be solved by you sticking an arm under my teeth!”

His fangs are all the way out now, down almost to his chin, drawing scratches on stubbly skin. Under the native environment of the Bat, out in the night perched somewhere high, he’d be a terror.

Under the warm loving light of the Yellow Room, under the warm loving gaze of people who know him best, he’s more ‘angry hissing kitten’ than anything else.

Dick slurps the rest of the soup, and mops up the rest with the crusty bit of his garlic toast. “So, if it was me that got turned into a vampire, you’re telling me you… wouldn’t IV pump me full of blood fresh out your veins? If you lie to me I will throw a teaspoon at your head.”

There’s nothing but a mutinous quiet from Bruce, who’s huffing and misting and snarling and floating a good three inches off the ground. Good, at least he’s not feeling so pressed to the edge that he needed to lie.

“… I’ll take my own blood.”

Alfred sniffs, and it’s a dignified sound that somehow echoes in this fairly large room. “After your little altercation with Dr. Ivy last week, sir, your own supply is running unfortunately low. Two bags left, and I intend to keep them in case coming out of vampirism treats you poorly. No, sir, you’ll have a mug of Master Richard’s blood or so help me God I will tranquilise you and feed it to you myself.”

Alfred catches himself mid-rampage, and huffs a little while neatening the cuff of his shirt. “Those are your choices, sir. Pick one.”

Reading the room, it’s easy to tell that the hour it took Dick to get here from Bludhaven has likely been filled with that sort of tersely-worded bitching that Alfred and Bruce have down to the finest art. “A couple of pints of blood, Type D, coming right up. Bruce, I’d recommend just giving up right now. If Alfred works down the line, Jason’s coming in next, and that’s gonna end with a fist to the mouth.” Dick brushes crumbs off his hands, and jumps out of the crouch he’d been in on the arm of the sofa to head towards Alfred. “No one’s getting out of that without a broken finger or fang or both, so just take mine, okay? For us.”

Bruce doesn’t deign to actually say yes or fine , just seems to fade into shadows he’s manifesting himself, but it reads like a grumpy acceptance of defeat.

Good enough , thinks Dick. “Give us a sec, we’ll be right back. If you’re extra good, I’ll even make a Bloody Mary out of mine!”

Batarangs aren’t made of silver, but they sure do make a flashy thunk when they bite into a doorjamb a clean 10 feet away from the nearest person.

Alfred huffs a quiet laugh but Dick is much louder and substantially more insulting as they make their way down to the Cave.

The blood fridge is a thing of stainless steel tucked in a corner of the medbay, and it’s covered in magnets. The Wayne brood travel a lot, but Bats and Birds travel even more. It’s become a weird habit that got adopted like kids get adopted ‘round here; Dick looks at a cracked dinosaur magnet he’d bought at the Bludhaven Natural History Museum his first night out as Nightwing, and nostalgia hits harder than teeth in the neck. “We’re gonna need a bigger one of these soon, Alfred. We’re almost out of free real estate.”

“We shall persevere nonetheless, sir.” Alfred opens the fridge, and goes along the top row till he gets to the little placard with Dick’s face on it. The filing system remains sweetly, sweetly old-school, even if everyone knows where theirs is stored by feel alone, and each bag is barcoded with enough details to alarm even the most dedicated phlebotomist.

Looking over the racks, Dick whistles. “Bruce isn’t the only one who’s had a rough time recently, huh? Tim didn’t mention that the last Titans’ fight got him two bags down.”

For that, he gets his ear flicked. “Don’t snoop, Master Richard, it’s unbecoming.” Alfred takes a bag off Dick’s shelf and pops it into a cooler bag. He closes the door, and heads to the kitchenette in the Cave where he scrounges up a little metal straw. “Thank you for coming by so quickly. I was at my wits’ end trying to convince him to have just the littlest nibble. He tried to keep himself locked in the Batmobile when he came back via autopilot.” Alfred rinses the straw with more aggression than necessary. “I tugged on the handle, and the door was locked. A door, locked to me! In my own home!” He sounds as incensed as Alfred ever does, but he also goes to grab some tomato juice and a couple of sticks of celery, just in case.

“You wore him down for me, Alfred, I had it easy.” Dick quietly grabs another couple of bags of his blood, because deep deep down Bruce isn’t the only one hesitant about feeding on family, looks like. “Surprised you’d turn to me for this, though. Seems like more of a Tim thing, have him over with a 50-slide presentation on why vampirism’s really not that different to CPR, or something.” He swoops by Alfred’s side and picks up the cooler bag and the bucket of ice, because there are a lot of stairs from the Cave back up to Yellow, and kind men deserve kind things done on behalf of their creaking knees, thanks very much.

“You certainly have a point, Master Tim can be alarmingly persuasive with his statistics and, ah, unblinking stare.” Alfred doesn’t acknowledge Dick helping him with his things, just looks a little glad to have a hand free to hold on to the handrail, which is acknowledgement enough. “However, I have to admit that when I am at my wits’ end with Master Bruce, I always want to turn to you, Master Dick.” He pauses at the top of the stairs, turns and smiles his neat little smile at Dick who is finding balance harder to maintain than usual. “You have kept me company in my never-ending fight to care for Master Bruce longer than anyone else, after all.”

(Longer, longer, longer even than Bruce’s parents, God love them both.)

Alfred reaches out, pats Dick’s hand and nimbly reacquires his wares. “Do not under any circumstance tell the others, of course, but an old man is allowed his favourite ally.”

Dick is a whole-ass adult who’s lived through more things than people 15 times his age, he’s dressed in a smart suit and tie after an interview for a position as a flight paramedic, and he’s helped ward off the apocalypse at least on three separate occasions.

He knows enough about enough to know that their vampire-magician is deeply, deeply outclassed by Alfred’s mastery over spacetime, because right now Dick knows that if he looks down at himself, he’ll be 9 years old again, wearing oversized pyjamas as he tries not to cry because it’s his birthday and Alfred had made him a stack of pancakes the size of his head, while Bruce skulks by the door holding five separate tubs of ice cream, looking uncomfortable and uncertain and bound and determined to be a responsible parent

(like he’s bound and determined to be a responsible vampire).

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dick murmurs under his breath, rubbing his cheek to break the spell.

“Language,” Alfred’s voice floats back towards him, as they make their way back to the Yellow Room.

There’s a bit of a scuffle, trying to get Bruce to actually drink the blood. When Dick had casually tossed a bag at Bruce, it had been batted right back at him like the world’s weirdest opening to a game of ping-pong. Another fight almost broke out then, because at least a third of all of Gotham’s collective stubbornness was sat in the room at that point, but Dick managed to force through a resolution by making a Bloody bloody Mary for Bruce, and regular Bloody Marys for himself and Alfred.

They sit where they want, Bruce in his circle, Dick perched on a windowsill, and Alfred on the sofa, and they sip at their meticulously non-identical drinks. They’re on their third round of Bloody Marys and sweet idle conversation when the message comes through that Zatanna’s on her way, and the tension in the room drains as smoothly as they do their drinks.

“Ah, what perfect timing,” Alfred says like he hasn’t worked his way through an alarming amount of vodka. “Just in time for a really early breakfast.”

It’s 3 AM, and hopefully after unraveling vampirism Z will be interested in some god-tier chicken and waffles. Dick’s stomach is already rumbling, and he’s in an unspeakably good mood. It’s a trinity of trinities, three generations of Wayne and Wayne-adjacents, three Bloody Marys each, it’s three o'clock in the morning.

There’s a father, a son, and Alfred counts as their Holiest Ghost, probably. Funny that Bruce has to become unholy to make Dick feel gently religious, though that might be the vodka and dreams of fried chicken futures. “How’re you feeling, Bruce?”

Flushed with blood, Bruce looks healthier and heartier than he does on average, which is a fight to tackle a different night. “… Better,” he admits, digging a fang into a celery stick with an expression of deep concentration. “I could fly if I tried, I think.”

Dick whoops, and nearly drops his glass. “It’s that vitamin D, bay-bee.”

It even earns a chuckle from Alfred, and Dick can feel god in this Yellow Room tonight. “I think,” Dick says with utmost seriousness, “that being a vampire is a good look for you, B. Feels good to get you something, even if it’s just a drink.”

Feels good to be able to provide for you instead of the other way ‘round, is something a more sober Dick would think.

From his corner, Alfred raises his glass in a steady-handed toast. “Just a drink is plenty when just a drink is all you need. So here’s a toast to you, Master Dick. Thank you for coming to our rescue.”

In the middle of a sea of silverware, Bruce raises his glass too, and oh, now Dick’s the one gone red in the face.

“Any time,” he says, and he’s glad to know he means it. “Honestly, this makes me feel like B should get turned into a vampire more often.” There’s a lot of magic in the Manor tonight, and only the tiniest fraction of it has to do with their rogue magician. Dick can’t remember when he last spent this much time with just Alfred and Bruce, and it feels like a loose anchor digging in juuust right.

The world’s in turmoil and his personal life has seen better days, but there’s a tether that comes off from the Manor and these two men. Sometimes, it’s a noose.

More often than not, it’s a lifeline, and what a fine feeling it is to know that that goes both ways.

Dick doesn’t know what’s showing on his face, though by how Bruce is now sat up and intensely staring at him, he’s probably revealing way, way too sopping much.

Bruce clears his throat, and his flush deepens into a rosy, rosy red. “Well. As being a part-time vampire does have its advantages, it’s. Hmm. I will discuss it with Zatanna, and see what I can do.”

And geeze, time-travel magic must be inherited too because Dick’s been forced back to his 9th birthday again, to Bruce Wayne-the-literal-Batman hovering uncertainly while holding way too much ice cream as he tries to accommodate Dick in that stupid, awkward, and hideously embarrassing way only he knows how.

“I’ll toast to that,” Dick says, ignoring the terrible scratch and crack in his voice, and he and Bruce both only nearly lose it when Alfred raises his glass again, and

quietly, quietly

murmurs, “Here’s a toast to my family”.

#batfam #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #family bonding #whale writing #bro i watched a weird japanese tv show last week #and it just left me in the weirdest most off-kilter mood #there literally way no direction for this story #i just like the thought of alfred having different niche categories #he can assign favourites too #and also vampire bruce who can turn to mist but doesn't #bc he was raised right #anyways here's wonderwall

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