#christmas did him so wrong that he's not even excited for dinner ... that's how you know it's serious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-sins · 1 year

Text

Happy Valentine’s, my Love

a/n: Happy Valentine’s guys! I hope you have a lovely day, regardless of the purpose of the holiday or if you’re celebrating it. Remember that if there’s nothing else to love, we can still love Yandere (;

Warning: Yandere, Detailed Violence/Gore, Long Post, Abuse mention

Valentine's Day has never been your favorite celebration of the year.

When you were single, it showed you just how alone you were as you passed by happy, kissing couples on the streets. Halloween, Christmas, and birthdays—those were all festivities shared with family and friends, so you enjoyed them as long as they kept your mind off things. When you finally got your first boyfriend, you thought that for sure, Valentine's would be enjoyable from now on too.

But you were wrong.

You loved him. You would have sworn to anyone doubting you that you loved that cruel bastard of a man who didn't care about your poor, desperate heart, pleading to be loved by him. Being with him broke you, and latest when Valentine's Day came around, and he decided to go out with his friends rather than stay with you, you realized he didn't feel as strongly about you as you did about him. Leaving him was the best and worst decision of your whole life. Best, because you knew you'd be able to move on, find someone to appreciate you. Someone normal, someone kind.

Worst because that scumbag wouldn't let you leave him so easily.

There was no detail you spared your boyfriend when you told him about your ex. You showed him the scars, the panic in your eyes, the restraining order, and every police report that came after. You wanted him to know. Everything. Without knowing your past, you couldn't imagine a future for you two. Though it may have been early in your relationship, you needed to know if there would be another lonely or, perhaps, a warm Valentine's Day awaiting you with this man you decided to trust. You finally had your answer when he held you as you cried, rubbed your back, and comforted you. He was the right one. He was kind and he was normal, accepting and understanding of everything about you.

So, how could it be that on Valentine's Day, you heaved yet another long sigh as you lowered your phone, still no reply from your boyfriend about when he was going to be home? There was no excuse like 'working late' or 'stopping to get dinner' when he had been off for the last five hours, and you had already cooked and set the table. Nothing could have been more important on a Tuesday evening than to get home to his beloved partner waiting for him. You couldn't think of any other excuses to make except for…

He forgot.

Maybe you were being childish. Disillusioned by TV and social media, romance books and games, that someone could actually exist who'd care. Care about you, your feelings, and this stupid couple's holiday. You didn't need someone who'd take you out on a unique, fancy date just because capitalism forced him to. You didn't even want presents or your partner being overly excited about a home-cooked meal and some sexy lingerie for dessert. Honestly, you two could have celebrated on any given day that you were in love and happy with each other. You just wanted someone to care.

There were a hundred things you could think of that you two could be doing, even if some made you slightly less comfortable than others. Your boyfriend had some interesting hobbies, like taking you out to the woods for a weekend, a secret cabin where it would only be you two and his camera that would constantly go off to capture pictures of you. He liked to practice tying knots and bought you two all kinds of sensual toys, including blindfolds and gags. Occasionally, you enjoyed the new activities too. Still, you felt like you'd never enjoy them quite as much as your boyfriend did, no matter how much fun you had. It made him happy first and foremost, so you tried to indulge him, knowing he would do the same for you. If anything, he had always been exactly what you wanted—kind, caring, affectionate, and a great cook. The bar wasn't high after what your ex did, but your boyfriend lifted it higher than you ever thought he could.

Which was why it was so strange he forgot this day, despite it being so important on your healing journey.

He usually was the one to always remember important dates or where you put your things whenever you happened to be forgetful. He took care of you when you were sick, saying things like, "I will always make sure you're happy and loved, Darling." His attitude and efforts made you look the other way whenever he asked you to pose for his camera or trust him when he booked another weird place for a weekend trip. You didn't enjoy these things as much as he did, but knowing he's been doing them since childhood, you couldn't deny him that little bit of freedom when he changed his life to accommodate you in return.

You wanted to be angry about him not showing up, knowing it meant the world to you, but if you were honest, you were just disappointed. Maybe you had put too many of your problems onto him. Perhaps he was tired of taking care of you all the time. Maybe this wasn't the right relationship either, no matter how much you wanted it to be. Mistakes were made before, and this could have been one of them.

Your train of thought was harshly interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, your head snapping around as you stared at your boyfriend wide-eyed and surprised as he giddily stepped inside, holding multiple bags of renowned stores you liked to shop in, grinning like he always did when seeing you.

"Sorry for not replying earlier! I was preoccupied."

Pushing off his shoes and hanging up his coat, he spoke nonchalantly as if your inner tumult didn't face him. Which, to be fair, you didn't even know if he was aware of. The bags in his hand were clearly apology gifts that he could shove wherever. Now you did feel angry, but when your boyfriend finally stepped into the kitchen, lifting his nose in the air and humming blissfully, you almost felt bad, seeing how innocent he looked, unaware of your anger.

"I wish I could have gotten back earlier, but I needed to take care of something," he called out from the kitchen sink, rinsing his hands dutifully. He was a bit of a goofball, wiping his wet hands on his shirt before sliding over to you on his socks, grinning from ear to ear as he met your gaze. You loved his playful ways, the tenderness of always searching for your no matter what. It was either eye contact or holding hands in public; your boyfriend never too shy to show you were with him.

"I know what you're thinking, but I didn't forget," he chuckled, scratching his cheek nervously after he noticed your furrowed brows. Moving around the couch you were sitting on, he took a seat right next to you, knees touching as he reached for your hand that you didn't pull away, even if just to see what he'd do. "I just wanted to make this the most special Valentine's ever."

Glancing at his fingers, your eyes got stuck at the red paint around the rim of where his nails met his skin, and you raised an eyebrow, replying, "Okay…?"

Did he make you a card? Painted a picture? Maybe he decorated a cake… You wanted to be pessimistic, given how he had already wasted most of the day being tardy. However, the promise of him actually going through the trouble of making you something from scratch was already more effort than you could have expected from him.

"Every day, you make me so happy," your boyfriend started, a doe-eyed look on his face as he gently massaged your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it reverently, his breath tingling against your skin. "Allowing me to love you is the greatest gift you could have ever made me. Just waking up every morning knowing I have you to cherish gives me the strength to overcome any hurdle in my life. I only need food, water, and you to survive my days with no regrets and no ill feelings. That's how much you changed me."

Planting some more kisses on the back of your hand, your boyfriend looked back up at you, grinning one of his beautiful, sunny smiles that you loved so much, his dimples making him look like he was out of a movie rather than the man you called your boyfriend. Hearing his confession made your anger evaporate, tears brimming your eyes that he quickly wiped away with his thumb. "Don't cry yet, I'm not finished, and you know I can't hold back when you cry."

You both laughed off the awkwardness and the stuffy noses as you took some deep breaths, gathering your composure as best as possible. "I wouldn't want to miss you ever," he sighed blissfully, his gaze piercing right into your soul, laying the words there like bandages around your scarred heart. "You're my light, and I love you more than humanly possible. I want that, exactly this here, right now, forever."

Pulling his hand away from caressing your cheek, he fumbled with the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a little red box shaped like a heart. Your breath hitched as you put your hand over your mouth to not let it hang wide open, surprised as your boyfriend opened the lid to reveal a beautiful ring that undoubtedly would have your size. "Will you do me the honor of marrying me?" he asked, fingertips brushing over the velvet outline of the ring box nervously. And you…

Hesitated.

A part of you wanted nothing more than to say yes, throw your arms around him, kiss him, let him put the ring on your finger, and call you by his last name. But then the thoughts you had before your boyfriend came home returned to your mind, and suddenly, doubts flooded you. You always thought he was the one to make you happy. The one to start a family with even. You were okay with his strange obsession with his hobbies, and he did his best to support you and make you feel loved daily. Why did you doubt him just because he was a little late on Valentine's Day? It was such a silly idea after the heartfelt confession he just made, wanting you to know all the ways he felt about you.

Strangely enough, your eyes fell to his fingernails again, the red rims and dirt under the nail. Your boyfriend was very careful about his looks. It was strange that he didn't take the time to make himself look prim and proper for something as important as a proposal. He always obsessed about looking presentable to you whenever he was out with you. Even when he swore you were beautiful no matter what, he always put in the extra effort for himself.

"I…" you mumbled, your sentence coming to a choked stop as if invisible hands were trying to stop you from speaking and squeezing the air out of your lungs. The sparkle in your boyfriend's eyes faded as he noticed your hesitation, an expression of hurt crossing over his face even though he tried to hide it behind a smile.

"I'm sorry, was that too rash? I mean, we never discussed it. I just thought today would be a good day, and… Wow, I… This is awkward."

Putting the ring away, he scratched the back of his head, turning from you. You wanted to reach out, console him, tell him he didn't do anything wrong, but as you watched his expression turn from hurt to bitter, you instead hugged your own body, leaning away from him. Next you knew, he was up, pacing back and forth behind the couch, muttering mixes of justifications and excuses.

"You said yes to your ex. I thought I could erase the Valentine's trauma if I did the same. I don't really know why I thought you'd say yes... We're still in our early stages, right? Gosh, I'm dumb sometimes! Just ignore I asked. It made sense to me when I saw the ring and thought of you, but I should have consulted you beforehand. It's not even that pretty. It's not good enough for you. You deserve a better ring, bigger and a lot more expensive than this little thing. They said it's a real diamond, but I'm not so sure. Am I making it worse? Please say no, this is already too embarrassing! We can't tell anyone I was so stupid to think you'd want to marry me."

Suddenly, your boyfriend stopped, looking at you. His breathing seemed to halt as he stared into your eyes with an unnerving, emotionless gaze. "You love me, though, right?"

Blinking at him, you couldn't quite follow his tirade of sentences, but you gave a slow nod, his expression changing instantly. "Phew! Lucky me! Here I thought I ruined it." The tension that had stopped him in his tracks flowed out of him, muscles relaxing, lips curling back into a smile.

Coming back to the couch, he took his place next to you, reaching for your hand to take into his, resting it on top of his thigh. For a moment, he stayed like this, brushing his thumb back and forth over the back of your hand as he smiled upon it thoughtfully. "This was a mistake, but I wouldn't be able to bear it if you'd hate me now. Can you tell me why it's a no?"

Looking up at you, you couldn't help but avert your gaze after catching his, seeing his kindness and patience that swirled with his love for you in it. He was always like that, understanding and accepting no matter what you did. How could you possibly confess to him that it was because you had a bad feeling about how he acted on Valentine's Day? That would make you look like an absolute idiot, wouldn't it? Rejecting him for being late?

"It's just… a little too early," you stammered, making apparent excuses. Eleven months may have been a bit quick, but you two had a lovely relationship so far. "I see…" he mumbled. His head fell back as he let out a loud laugh, squeezing your hand tightly as if he feared losing his hold. "And here I thought it was because of your ex."

"Why do you keep bringing him up?" you asked, a ping of irritation going through you at the constant reminder.

"Well, you brought up marriage much earlier with him, but you never talked about it with me."

Odd, you thought, not remembering giving him that detail. You were sure you mentioned you thought your ex was the one you'd marry, but this seemed like a knowledge that you didn't think you told him about.

"I… maybe?" you mumbled, unsure if this had actually happened since you avoided letting your memories resurface.

"Yeah, so I thought maybe I wasn't good enough for you. Maybe you still like your ex more than me. That's why you never brought up marriage. Don't tell me you actually still feel for that bastard?"

His words were throat-cutting sharp as he spit them out, his eyes fixating tensely on you as if to warn you not to say the wrong thing. "Of course not…" you mumbled, appalled at your boyfriend's thoughts. "You know I'm with you now. I rarely ever think of that guy…"

"Good… good," he mumbled, features softening as he looked forward, brushing his thumb over your hand again as he stared into nothingness thoughtfully. "It would be hard to piece him together again if you changed your mind."

"What?" you mumbled, cocking your head and furrowing your brows, waiting for your boyfriend to explain what he meant with his strange choice of words.

Sitting up straight, your boyfriend stopped tracing over the back of your hand, taking a deep breath instead. Rolling his head to face you, he forced a smile on his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Somehow, I knew," he sighed, a hint of regret decorating his features. "I knew you wouldn't say yes."

"I couldn't pinpoint it. It was just a feeling I had as I drove home today. It got me thinking of reasons why you would reject my proposal. I kept driving up and down the street, too nervous to just come in and ask you; that's why I was so late. Because at one turn, I ended up on your ex's street, passing by his house, and I stopped the car. I felt like it was his fault that you'd reject me, and I looked through his window, and there he was, cuddling with some girl that didn't look like you at all. Probably a whore. That's the best that scumbag can do."

He spat the last two sentences as if they disgusted him on your behalf. As if he was angry, your ex wasn't at least miserable about losing you. It seemed sweet, but your boyfriend's actions were scaring you more and more, especially when you tried to pull back your hand, his fingers clutching around your wrist tightly as he kept you right where you were, not giving you a chance to back away until you relented, letting him continue to brush his thumb back and forth over it.

"I knew I couldn't just leave him like that. He hurt you. He hurt you badly, and I wanted him to suffer. I rang the bell, waiting for him to open, but he let the slut get the door for him, that lazy piece of shit. So I wrapped my arm around her neck, pulled her to the kitchen, and slit her throat right in front of his face. And can you believe it? He cried. Like a little baby, as the bitch bled out."

Your blood ran cold as he spun his gruesome tale. You were even more inclined to get away from him as his expression filled with a mix of indifference and hatred. However, he turned towards you, reaching for your arm and pulling you closer to him, no matter how hard he had to jank until you fell into his arms. "I thought about you," he mumbled, eyes shifting back to the affectionate spark you loved being looked at with normally. He smiled as he caressed your skin, full of goosebumps. "I only thought of you as I rammed the knife into his back over and over, not giving him an easy way out while he cried and pleaded for me to stop. But I didn't. Not until he collapsed, gurgling. That's when I decided it would be the best gift for you, and I hope you'll like it."

Finally, your boyfriend took his hands away, fluttering touches turning into nothingness as he got up. He was eerily calm, not chipper like usual, and not bothered by what he just told you. He stepped around the couch, touching your shoulder as he passed you by, chuckling to himself about the good thing he did while you tried to comprehend the shock you were feeling, disgust and panic not yet having set in.

"I got you other presents too, but nothing as good as this one," he explained, and you heard the bags rustling behind your back, sending another shiver down your spine. How ironic, you thought, realizing he did make you something homemade for Valentine's. It made a splashing sound as he pulled it out of the bag, and it explained the red stains on his fingers, but it was neither a card, a picture, nor a cake.

You opened your mouth to scream as your boyfriend slipped the severed head of your ex wrapped in multiple layers of saran wrap into your lap, an anguished expression of pain forever chiseled into the features of the man you once loved. He had never been a good lover to you, but you were pretty sure he didn't deserve this.

Before a single, horrified scream could rip out of your throat, your boyfriend's hand came down to rest over your mouth, pressing around your lips so nothing but muffled sounds could escape you. "I took care of it. No need to get upset now, Babe," he mumbled, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. "He can never hurt you again, and when we do decide to marry, no one will be in our way," he assured you.

And you believed him.

"Because if anyone else tries, I'll take care of them too," he added, and you could hear the smirk on his lips, an expression so mad you didn't even want to see it crossing his face.

"I won't let anyone come between you and me. Not now, and not ever, Baby. Happy Valentine's Day, my Love."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #OW

769 notes · View notes

raven-fucks-around-and-writes · 10 months

Text

𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Earth 42!miles x GN! reader

Warnings: breakup, hurt/no comfort, angst fr

Word count: 967

you hoped and prayed that miles would show up to your christmas family dinner.

please fucking let him show up for once. it seemed like he was never there for you these days.

today was supposed to be the day he met your extended family, along with your parents and a few friends. he had been distant recently, which led to you having several sleepless nights wondering if you had did something wrong

as the evening went on, you earned pitied looks from your cousins as the knot in your stomach grew with time

you had to be real with yourself at some point. he wasn't coming.

"I'm sorry honey, we were all excited to meet him" your dad said, softly patting your shoulder

"it's fine, i'm not sure what i was expecting anyway."

you suddenly stood up from the chair you were sitting in, gaining everyone's attention

"i'm sorry everyone, but i think i'm going to go lay down. it's been a long day"

the moment you closed your door, the tears began to fall. deep down, you wondered why you put up with him. it was humiliating to make promises to people, saying he'd be there, saying he cares about you, saying he loved you. everyone knew that was a damn lie.

you sniffled and picked up your phone, dialing your boyfriend's number as you sank down to the floor and waited for that familiar deep voice that used to be comforting.

"..hello?"

you hesitated for a moment, the knot in your stomach tightening at the nonchalant way he responded

"miles, where were you today? you said you'd be here, right?"

"mhm, I got caught up in work, sorry. it's not like i missed anything important"

more tears began to fall as your heart broke at the sentence, everyone was right and you knew it all along.

"you know what, miles?" you could barely get the words out, choking back sobs

"don't call me. don't come over, don't worry about meeting my family. all you care about is yourself, right? you're fucking selfish. i waited for months for you to act like you gave 2 fucks about me, and you never did."

your finger hovered over the red hangup button, your last flame of hope dying out due to the silence on the other end. "it's over."

after you wait a couple of seconds, you hung up and slid down to the floor, clasping your hand over your mouth to stifle your sobs. how did you get here? you couldn't sleep whatsoever, and through the hours of the remaining night you thought of the course of your relationship, eventually drifting off into a slumber.

-----

the next few days were miserable and tear-filled, which earned concerned looks from your family. you had spent the day packing up everything that reminded you of *him*, though it wasn't helping you feel any better. at some point, you came across some of his things, like his hoodies that you had worn during late night talks, polaroid pictures that you two had taken together, gifts he had gotten you and various keepsakes. how did you fucking get here? at some point, you knew he'd have to come collect his things.

2 days later, you called him.

his house was about 30 minutes from yours, so you had time to prepare. it had been 7 few days since you broken up, 2 days since you decided to call him to collect his stuff. your hands were shaking as you packed his belongings into a box, this is better for you, you know it is. as soon as you move on, the better. out of sight, out of mind.

that was until the doorbell rang, indicating his arrival.

"do you need some support?" your mom peeked around the corner, flashing a concerned look in your direction.

"i think i've got it, mom, thank you." truth be told, you weren't so confident about seeing him again. that painfully familiar knot was twisting in your gut once more

as you opened it, the painful memories hit you like a tidal wave. his brown eyes, how securely he used to hold you at night when you cried, his smile.

fucking hell, you couldn't do this. it was supposed to be a brief exchange, but it got overwhelming so damn fast. trying to keep tears from welling up, you took a deep breath and tried to stifle down the feeling of regret that was building up the longer you looked at him.

"do you have my stuff or?" he looked at you expectantly. it was like you hadn't even broken up.

just hearing his voice made you realize how badly you still wanted to be with him. but is it it too late for you to work? you didn't really give him the chance to speak on the phone..

you hesitated for a minute "miles, look, i'm sorry for blowing up without letting you talk.."

"nah, you're all good. it's better for both of us" that's it? had he been unhappy the whole time? were you just a forgotten nuisance to him?

"no, miles, i'm sorry. i should've let you explain, it was unfair and i think we could fi-"

"[name], stop. you were right, it's not working in between us. i'm better off without you, and, well, you can handle being without me."

his nonchalant words pierce you like 1000 knifes. your heartbeat was in your ears, and you didn't feel in control of your words

"miles.. i still love y-"

"and i loved you. we're in the past now, it's time to let us go."

you were stunned, and with that, he took his opportunity to pull his things from your hands and leave.

you crumpled to your knees soon after that, sobbing quietly

dont forget, reblogs help writers and likes dont do shit!😭

#angst #prowler miles #earth 42 #across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles #miles morales prowler #atsv angst #atsv #atsv x you #earth 42 miles angst #prowler x reader #miles morales x reader #my wribting #atsv x reader #gender neutral reader #hurt/no comfort #prowler miles x reader

350 notes · View notes

daddy-dins-girl · 7 months

Note

CAN YOU DO A PEDRO BOYS IDEAL FIRST DATE

Ok well I don't have an alignment chart for this one, but I can provide some headcanons!

And apologies, I didn't get ALL the boys in here, but I got a lot. Feel free to reblog with HC's of any of the boys I missed.

Hope this is somewhat what you had in mind!

PS: My ask box is always open.

Headcanons under the cut!

Joel Miller - Joel takes you to a bar. It’s a little divey, but not without its charm. There’s live music and all the furniture is made of rich mahogany that gleams even under the low lighting. Joel looks amazing, foregoing his usual flannel for a black button-down shirt that’s tucked into dark jeans and a brown leather belt. Once you’ve gotten your drinks from the bar he takes you to a round booth and slides in right next to you, slinging his arm over the back of the bench and over your shoulders so that there’s no question to anyone else in the establishment who exactly you came here with (and who you’re leaving with). The table he picked is close to the stage so that every time you want to talk to each other you need to lean in real close just to hear what the other is saying. You think he did that on purpose, and you think you like Joel. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️

Marcus Pike - Marcus has planned everything ahead of time. He has a reservation for a restaurant he knows you’d love, based on just the few short conversations you’d had previous to setting up this date. After your meal you take a romantic walk along the pier at his suggestion and you wonder why Marcus keeps checking his watch every few minutes until suddenly fireworks start bursting high in the sky above your heads and you realize he wanted to time your walk perfectly so that you wouldn’t miss the scheduled show. He’s literally so adorable you could melt. You pretend to be cold as you watch the colorful display in the sky so that he’ll maybe put his arm around you. He does, but not until after shrugging out of his suit jacket and laying it across your shoulders first. You have a second date on the books before the first one even ends. scorcher score:🌶️

Dave York - You’re certain it’s no coincidence that Dave picked a restaurant that happened to be inside of a fancy hotel. And to his credit, you’re at the concierge desk before dessert has even been served, pawing all over each other while he hands the clerk his AMEX card and reminds them you do not wish to be disturbed this evening. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Jack Daniels - Jack takes you to the rodeo. You’ve never been before so it’s actually really fun and exciting as he explains all the events to you and you look around in wonder at everything happening around you. Jack failed to mention, however, that he’s in the fucking rodeo. You don’t mind though because the whole bucking bronco thing? Kinda hot… Later you make sure to tell him that, and to leave the hat on. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Max Phillips - Max called it a “date” when he’d invited you. You (and literally everyone else including Webster’s Dictionary) would actually refer to what he’s brought you to as an orgy but… tomato/tomahto. Max Phillips is an absolute menace, but you knew that already. scorcher score:🚨 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 🚨

Javi Gutierrez - He takes you to the movies, of course. You half expect him to have rented out the entire theater for just the two of you, but once the movie starts playing you watch in awe of how into it he gets, eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. And it's not just the movie, but the joy he seems to get from sharing the experience with the hundred or so people around you. It’s sweet. He’s sweet. scorcher score: 🌶️

Frankie Morales - He picks you up from your place and drives for a good hour up the coast line until he stops finally for what he tells you is the absolute best taco truck you’ll ever experience (and turns out, he’s not wrong). After dinner and an ice cream cone from another nearby food truck he holds your shoes (and your hand) as you take a walk down the beach on warm sand while soft summer waves lap at your feet. You absolutely let him get to 3rd base in the cab of his truck before he drops you off. scorcher score:��️🌶️🌶️

Javier Peña - It’s not exactly a date, but you do get a text to your phone at 2am. “U up?” scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Maxwell Lord - Maxwell wants to show you off. He takes you to a swanky party that is crawling with Washington’s social elites. Politicians, Diplomats and business men and women make up a majority of the guest list and he’s eager to have you on his arm when he makes introductions. The party is a little stuffy, a little boring, so when the entertainment portion of the evening begins and everyone is distracted, you and Maxwell happily sneak off to the back of the coat check room for your own private party instead. Maxwell turns out to be a little spicier than you originally gave him credit for. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️

Oberyn Martell - see “Max Phillips”. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Marcus Moreno - Marcus takes you to a carnival that happens to be in town for the weekend. You shove cotton candy in each other’s faces like complete dorks in love, share your first kiss at the top of the ferris wheel, walk the fairgrounds eating snow cones, and before the night is over Marcus wins you a teddy bear with a red ribbon around its neck that is literally so huge you can barely get it through your front door later that night when he drops you off. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️

Dieter Bravo - very similar to Javier Peña, except the text he sends is all in emojis... “🍆 💦 🍑 ❓🥺” scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Choose your first date! It's a tough one but... gun to my head, I think I'm going with Frankie.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #dieter bravo #max phillips #agent whiskey #dave york #frankie morales #javier peña #javi gutierrez #oberyn martell #marcus moreno #marcus pike #maxwell lord #asks

191 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

Text

it led me to you

chapter 2: sophomore year also on ao3

Chapter 1

****************

Two weeks before school started, Wayne gave Eddie a used van as a late 16th birthday/early Christmas gift.

It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t fun, but it ran.

It was more than a van; it was Eddie’s ticket to independence.

But it was a stark reminder to Steve that he was one step closer to escaping the town he hated so much.

Steve’s sophomore year started…rough.

He made the Varsity basketball team this year, a year earlier than most people do, but when he called his dad to tell him, he got brushed off.

It’s not that he really expected anything different, it just kind of felt shitty that the one thing he thought his dad might actually be proud of meant nothing.

He’d gone straight to Eddie’s trailer after that phone call, didn’t even bother knocking. He hadn’t really had to knock since Christmas. This was more his home than his actual house.

Wayne was at work, Eddie was busy playing his guitar and didn’t even hear him come in, so he went straight to the kitchen to start cooking something.

He’d done it all summer for them, his way of thanking them for letting him into their lives and their home when they could just as easily keep him at arm’s length.

He planned to keep it up for as long as he could, knew his parents wouldn’t bother to come back more than a few times throughout the school year to keep up appearances that they cared.

He didn’t realize he was crying until a tear fell right onto the cutting board in front of him.

He sniffled, the realization crashing through him that his own parents didn’t even know where he was most of the time and probably didn’t care.

He could throw parties at home if he wanted to, hire a cleaning crew with the money they left for him to get food, probably find some seniors who knew how to get their hands on enough beer to stay stocked up. They’d never know.

He could start doing drugs, throw his life away one night at a time, make sure he never got anywhere outside of this town. They wouldn’t know until it was too late.

He could drop out of school when Eddie graduated, follow him wherever he goes, maybe find somewhere he was happy with the only person in the world who made him feel safe. His parents wouldn’t know until he was already gone.

But he wouldn’t do any of that.

He didn’t think anyone would actually come to those parties. The only people who would were his friends from Hellfire and they wouldn’t party so much as play some loud music and pass out by midnight.

He didn’t think any drugs sounded particularly appealing, and the one time he’d smoked weed with Eddie, he got a migraine and decided he didn’t like the dizzy feeling.

Eddie wouldn’t let him drop out, probably wouldn’t want him to come with him no matter where he ended up. He wanted to leave everything behind, and that would have to include Steve.

“Steve? When did you get here?” Eddie asked from behind him, his voice sounding excited.

“Oh. Just a little while ago,” he cleared his throat, hoping Eddie wouldn’t hear any hint of the tears still dripping down his face.

“Stevie, what’s wrong?”

Everything. Nothing when you’re here, though.

“Nothing. Just a long day,” Steve shrugged, continuing to cut up the onion he was using in the pasta sauce.

“Did something happen?” Eddie’s hand was on his shoulder, his attempt to comfort just making Steve want to cry more.

Steve couldn’t do it, he couldn’t bite back the sob his body had been trying to let out for the last few minutes.

As soon as it escaped, Eddie was pulling him against his chest, holding the back of his head and wrapping his arm around his back as tight as he possibly could.

“Is it Tommy or one of his idiots?” Eddie whispered, anger causing his voice to waver.

Steve shook his head.

Eddie didn’t need to know.

He could comfort him like he clearly wanted to do, and then Steve could go back to making dinner like he usually did, and they would forget any of this happened until the next time Steve’s dad upset him.

Rinse. Repeat.

“Is it your dad?”

Steve thought about lying. He didn’t actually think he’d get away with it, but since his birthday over the summer, they’d agreed that Eddie wouldn’t push. That was the last time his dad had done something to upset him like this.

Forgetting your only child’s birthday tends to be a little traumatic for the child, after all.

But instead of lying, he nodded.

Eddie didn’t push for more, thankfully.

He accepted that Steve was upset because of his dad, and just shifted right into being the shoulder, or in this case chest, to cry on.

They stood like that for a while, Steve’s silent tears almost more alarming than the sob.

He hadn’t really cried like this in a while, and Eddie kept pulling him in tighter every time he gasped for breath.

“Okay, I have to laugh about something,” Eddie said quietly, a smile could be heard in his voice.

“What?” Steve sniffed, not moving away from Eddie’s chest.

“You’re upset and the first thing you think to do is come over and start cooking dinner for us. Are you trying to take out your feelings on the onion? Were you gonna blame the crying on the onion? I’m startin’ to feel bad for the onion.”

Steve let out a loud laugh, startling them both.

“I just wanted to do something to be proud of,” Steve mumbled.

Eddie pulled away a bit, looking down at Steve with a worried gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that I’m pretty average at everything. I get by in school, I get by with D&D, I do pretty good at sports, but that doesn’t really mean anything. But I’m good at taking care of you and Wayne. I’m good at making you guys food and helping with stuff around the house and like, being your friend, I guess.”

Steve wanted to hide, curl back into Eddie’s chest, where he was safest from the outside world.

Instead, Eddie pulled away further, letting his hands drop to his sides.

“Stevie, your worth isn’t based on how much you’re able to accomplish or how well you do something. You know that right?”

Steve shrugged.

Deep down, yeah, he did know that. But on the surface, especially when he was bruised a bit from his dad’s dismissal earlier, he recognized that he was much better at barely getting by than thriving.

“I don’t know what happened with your dad, but I know that he has no right to say or do anything to make you feel average. He’s the most below average dad besides mine that I know of.”

Eddie was upset, and Steve didn’t want that, so he tried to think of a distraction. Anything that would get the attention away from himself.

“What were you playing on guitar when I got here?”

It was a shitty attempt to distract him, they both knew it.

Eddie couldn’t resist talking about music though, especially not when it was something he was teaching himself.

“I’m gonna let you change the subject for now, but there will be consequences.” Steve just turned back to the counter to continue cutting the onion as Eddie pulled himself up onto the counter next to him to talk. “I got a new record today and I’ve been trying to learn the solo for one of the songs.”

Eddie could play by ear, it was impressive. Steve knew that was rare, that a lot of people had to actually study music and take lessons before they could even attempt to learn a song. Eddie could usually listen to a song a few times and have most of the notes down.

Steve once watched him listen to a Judas Priest song twice and play along with it perfectly the third time.

“What’s the record?”

“Diary of a Madman.”

“Ozzy?”

He was met with silence.

When he finally looked up, worried that maybe Eddie had somehow died without falling off the counter, Eddie was staring at him with his mouth open, eyes wide in shock.

“How do you know that?”

“It was on your list,” Steve shrugged, turning back to the counter to dice up some tomatoes.

“The list that I keep hidden in my room?”

“It’s not really hidden when it’s taped above your bed.”

Steve slept over often, and they really didn’t see a point in making him sleep on the couch or Eddie sleeping on the couch when they’d already shared a bed before during Christmas. He had everything in Eddie’s room memorized, down to the exact location of his latest addition to the dirty socks that ended up under his bed. All the rest of his clothes always made it to the basket, but never the socks.

Naturally, he watched Eddie’s list of records he wanted to buy grow almost by the day. He added more than he could afford to scratch off, and Steve intended on buying as much from the list for him for Christmas as he could.

“Okay, but I didn’t put who it was on the list.”

“I just checked into it.”

Eddie gave him a side eye.

“Why? You hate Ozzy.”

“I don’t hate Ozzy. Just like I don’t hate any of your music. It’s just very…loud.”

Eddie barked out a laugh.

“Yeah, it is that. Well, moving on from your suspicious behavior!” Eddie clapped his hands together. “I think I got most of it. There’s a really complicated chord change halfway through that he’s never done before and every time I think I have it, I end up missing a note.”

“You’ll get it eventually.”

“Yeah. But unfortunately for you and Wayne, you have to listen to me not getting it for a bit longer.”

“When’s Wayne gonna be home?” Steve had mostly memorized his schedule, but he sometimes worked extra shifts or overtime with little notice.

“He hasn’t called to let me know if he’s running late so I guess same time as usual,” Eddie hopped off the counter, ruffling Steve’s hair before he walked back to his bedroom.

Steve focused back on the sauce now simmering on the stove, the pot of water just starting to boil. He added the box of pasta, a teaspoon of olive oil, and a pinch of salt.

It didn’t take long for him to forget about his conversation with his dad, especially once Wayne got home and gave him a quick side hug before he went to shower off the remnants of his day.

Sophomore year was challenging.

Steve was never very good at science, and algebra was kicking his ass this year.

He was still passing everything, but barely.

Before they went on Christmas break, Steve asked Nancy Wheeler if she could tutor him since he was in some of his classes despite being a freshman.

She agreed, but said the only time she could do it was right after his basketball practice on Tuesdays.

Tuesdays were the nights Eddie held Hellfire.

Her tutoring would only be for an hour, so maybe he’d be willing to move the start time a little. For anyone else in the club, he probably wouldn’t, but for Steve he would.

Wouldn’t he?

“You need me to move Hellfire? Because of…basketball?”

So maybe Steve wasn’t being entirely honest about the why, but he was embarrassed and he didn’t want Eddie to know that he had to turn to a younger student just to pass his classes.

“It’s just extra practice because I’m on varsity now.”

He felt the guilt hit him instantly.

Lying to Eddie wasn’t something he did. Sometimes he didn’t talk about something, but that wasn’t lying, just protecting himself.

This was blatant lying.

To his best friend.

“Right. Uh. I guess I can talk it over with everyone and make sure it won’t get in the way of anyone’s curfew if we run a bit later?”

“Really?” Steve started bouncing on his toes, temporarily forgetting the guilt he was feeling at the idea of Eddie changing the time just for him.

“Yeah. Basketball is important to you for some reason, so I can figure it out,” he said with an understanding smile.

Within two days, everyone was on board with changing the time enough to make it possible for Steve to still participate in their campaign.

During their last meeting before break, Steve thanked everyone with homemade cookies.

Steve enjoyed his Christmas break with Wayne and Eddie again, not the least bit surprised when the annual letter and gifts from his parents arrived without them at the door.

It still stung a bit, even when he got to spend the break with Wayne and Eddie again.

But they ate their spaghetti for breakfast and drank enough coffee for Eddie to almost literally be bouncing off the walls.

They were a family.

Nancy didn’t fuck around.

The second day back from break was their first tutoring session.

She handed him already-made flash cards, a binder of highlighted notes, and a printout of a sample test.

“By next month, you’ll be able to get everything correct on this test.”

“Uh. Okay,” Steve said, a little scared over how prepared she was.

She spent the next 30 minutes explaining the highlighting system, exactly what he would need to study, how often he would need to study, and then the first assigned homework in algebra.

His head was reeling as he made his way to Hellfire.

Nancy was overwhelming, but he did actually feel confident that he understood the homework for the first time all year, so she was at least effective.

“He’s here!” Gareth yelled as soon as he walked into the drama room.

“And not as sweaty as I expected,” Imogene said.

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Eddie smirked.

He walked up to Steve and gave him a once over, head tilting slightly.

“She’s right though. Did you dry off with an industrial fan or something?”

Steve shoved past them all, hiding his blush as he made his way to his seat at the table.

“Can we get started please?”

“Certainly, your majesty. Don’t let us hold you up.”

The night went well, though Eddie had to keep correcting him on his math.

He chalked it up to using everything he had in his tutoring session, but couldn’t really say that out loud.

At the end, Eddie pulled him to the side.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“Need a ride?”

He almost always rode home with Eddie on Tuesdays, spending the night at the trailer if they ran later than usual.

“Sure,” he said before letting out a huge yawn.

They’d barely made it on the road when Steve’s eyes started to close.

“How’d tutoring go with Wheeler?” Eddie asked suddenly.

Steve’s eyes shot open, watching as Eddie’s knuckles went white as he gripped the wheel hard.

“What?”

“Why did you hide it from me?”

“How did you even find out?”

Steve was wide awake now, panic setting in that Eddie would be mad at him for lying, would probably hate him and stop talking to him and kick him out of Hellfire and then Steve would be completely alone for the rest of high school and beyond because it was too late to join other groups and-

“Does it matter how I found out? You weren’t the one to tell me. It’s fine if you don’t wanna tell me, but you lied to me. I would have moved Hellfire for you to have tutoring, too. So why would you lie to me?” Eddie sounded hurt.

He was keeping his eyes ahead, probably grateful for the excuse of driving so he didn’t have to look at Steve.

“I don’t know why I lied.”

“That’s bullshit, Steve.”

Steve flinched.

His dad tended to call his grades and behavior and general existence bullshit, and Eddie knew that.

It hurt to hear him say it so flippantly.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” Eddie said, much calmer and quieter.

The apology dulled the ache in Steve’s chest, but didn’t eliminate it completely. He knew he deserved it, but he didn’t think Eddie would ever use words like that towards him.

“I’m just trying to understand. We’re best friends and you didn’t even tell me you needed help in some of your classes.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, okay? It’s just embarrassing.”

Eddie was quiet. Steve stared out his own window, biting back the tears he knew were pooling in his eyes.

The van suddenly pulled to the side of the road and stopped.

“Stevie, look at me,” Eddie reached a hand over, covering Steve’s hand where it rested against his leg.

Steve swallowed harshly and turned to see Eddie looking at him, tired and sad.

“I’m not gonna think less of you because you need some help in school. None of us would. We all struggle with something.” Eddie sighed. “I’m not doing so great this year, either. The teachers hate me and I’m barely passing math and gym.”

“Gym? Eds, all you have to do is participate to pass the class.”

“Do I look like someone who participates in gym class?”

Steve couldn’t help smiling at him.

No, he didn’t. He looked like someone who probably avoided any physical activity that wasn’t directly related to playing a musical instrument.

“Nancy would probably help you with math. She’s technically in my class and she’s, like, way ahead of everyone.”

“Maybe. But my point is that you don’t have to hide shit from me. Or anyone in Hellfire for that matter.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“I know. You’re good, Stevie,” Eddie squeezed his hand, smiling at him softly.

The van was dark, but the moonlight and headlights reflecting off the pavement gave just enough light for them make out each others’ features.

Steve’s heart skipped a beat.

They’d had moments like this before, but this felt different. The air was thicker, Eddie was still looking at him with that fond smile, and Steve couldn’t breathe.

Headlights lit up the road in front of them, disrupting the moment and making Eddie pull his hand away to place back on the steering wheel.

He wordlessly put the van back in drive and continued to the trailer.

The silence wasn’t awkward, but it did make Steve a little nervous.

It was hard to know what would’ve happened if that car didn’t drive by, but Steve had a gut feeling that his life would’ve changed.

“Happy birthday, Ed!” Wayne yelled from outside the bedroom door.

Steve shot up in the bed, knocking Eddie’s hand off his waist where it’d been resting for most of the night.

“Eddie, wake up!” Steve started shoving at his shoulder.

Eddie groaned and turned away from Steve.

“No.”

“It’s your birthday!”

“Then let me sleep.”

Steve shook his head, but jumped off the bed and ran to the door.

Wayne was smirking on the other side.

They’d had this planned for months now. Wayne took the day off, Steve forged a note so he could miss school today, and the gas tank of the van was full.

Steve had done the research and planning, Wayne had socked away enough money to pay for gas and food, and they had a whole day of surprises for the now 17 year old.

“He being difficult?” Wayne asked, putting his arm around Steve as they both looked at Eddie in bed.

His hair was covering the pillow and part of his face, his mouth was wide open like he was already back in a deep sleep, and his arms were thrown above his head.

“Just a little.”

“I’ll handle this, you get started on breakfast.”

Steve nodded and watched for a moment as Wayne made his way into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting a hand on Eddie’s chest.

“C’mon Eds, your boy and I got a whole day planned for ya,” Wayne whispered.

Steve gulped when he heard it.

Your boy.

Wayne wasn’t dumb, he had sensed Steve’s feelings early on and called him on it. But he hadn’t said anything, at least not that Steve knew of.

Sure, he gave him these looks every once in a while, like this morning, but he wasn’t going to step in the middle of whatever was or wasn’t going on between them.

Steve moved to the kitchen quickly, doing his best to focus on making breakfast and not the soft way Wayne referred to him as Eddie’s boy.

He couldn’t hear anything else, the sounds of his cooking taking over the small area of the trailer that had kind of become his favorite.

Besides Eddie’s bed of course.

Just as he started pouring the batter into the pan, Eddie walked out, rubbing his eyes and yawning, obviously still tired.

His face lit up when he recognized what Steve was doing, though.

“Pancakes?!”

“You act like I never make pancakes,” Steve huffed.

“I see chocolate chips though,” Eddie walked up behind Steve, looking at some of the mess he’d made. “And sprinkles! Whipped cream! Best birthday ever!”

Steve laughed at his excitement.

It was really easy to make Eddie happy; He appreciated every small gesture or kind word, and almost always seemed surprised when his friends or Wayne took extra steps to make him feel loved.

“There’s also a candle so we can sing.”

“Outdid yourselves this year, didn’t you?”

“This is just the start,” Wayne said as he joined them.

“There’s more?”

“Oh yeah. Whole day of fun just for you. Steve put a lot of work into planning this so you better have some coffee.”

Steve felt himself blush, the heat crawling up his neck as Eddie leaned his head to rest on top of Steve’s in a silent thank you.

Steve had grown a bit in the last year, but Eddie had grown again.

Wayne complained that he was going to be taller than him (he already was in the right shoes) and didn’t know where he got it from (Wayne had let slip to Steve that Eddie’s parents were both on the shorter side).

“What did you plan?” Eddie asked as Steve flipped the pancakes.

“You’ll see after breakfast.”

After breakfast, they all got ready to go.

Wayne drove, and Eddie kept looking out the window to try to figure out where they were going.

He was pretty terrible with directions, so they could probably keep this a secret for a while.

Steve was changing over the tape when Eddie suddenly turned to him.

“We’re going to Indy?”

“We really gotta work on your sense of direction, boy,” Wayne laughed.

“Yeah, we’re going to Indy,” Steve nodded.

“For what?”

“Should I tell him?” Steve asked Wayne, teasing.

“I dunno, maybe he should have to guess,” Wayne smirked in the rearview mirror.

“C’mon guys! At least tell me the first thing we’re doing.”

“How do you know we’re doing more than one thing?”

“Because Wayne wouldn’t be driving us over an hour away just for one thing unless it lasted all day. It doesn’t last all day, does it?” Eddie suddenly sounded less sure of himself, probably silently convincing himself that he had to be right.

“Calm down, Ed,” Wayne shook his head. “First stop is the big record store downtown. The one that has live shows sometimes. It’s three stories.”

“And before you ask, I’m buying you three records of your choice so you don’t just have to go stare at them with those sad eyes and leave without any,” Steve said.

Eddie started bouncing his legs excitedly.

“What after that?”

“Lunch at McDonald’s.”

“McDonald’s?! I love McDonald’s.”

Steve patted his shoulder, noticed he was visibly shaking with excitement now.

“After lunch, there’s a guitar shop a little further out of town that does lessons. The guy has worked with studio artists for all your favorite bands. I got you a lesson with him.”

Eddie was speechless.

He truly had nothing to say to either of them, his brain trying to filter through the fact that he was spending his birthday with his two favorite people doing some of his most favorite things and now meeting someone who has access to people in the music industry.

The Corroded Coffin guys were going to lose their shit.

He felt Steve’s hand on his arm, looked up to see him smiling hesitantly.

“Is that okay?”

“Steve. This is the most okay thing that has ever happened to me.”

Steve’s beaming smile was enough to send butterflies through his entire body.

Wayne gave him a knowing look in the mirror before focusing back on the road ahead.

“You did all this?”

“I mean, Wayne is driving, he filled up the gas and is buying us lunch. I didn’t do much except plan.”

Steve always tried to brush things off, whether it was good or bad. He never accepted that he was good.

He leaned over and pulled Steve into a hug, his head going right to his chest like always.

Eddie never felt better than when Steve was in his arms, with his head against his chest. He felt like he could protect him, even if there wasn’t anything to protect him from.

He felt like he was holding his entire world in his arms.

It was a terrifying thought.

Eddie knew from a young age that he was gay, had come out to Wayne within the first week of living with him so he could get the ass beating out of the way early.

But Wayne didn’t do anything except hug him, thank him for trusting him, and ask him if he wanted to get pizza for dinner.

He’d since come out to Jeff and Gareth, but it was more accidental than anything. He’d been caught staring just a little too long (and maybe a little too lustfully) at a picture of Ozzy.

He knew Steve would be fine with it; Steve was a good person and they were best friends before anything else. He’d be completely understanding about Eddie being gay.

But he may not be as cool about Eddie being head over heels in love with him. Especially not since they share a bed four out of seven nights a week.

Or the fact that Eddie is almost always touching him, whether it’s an arm around him, or holding his hand, or playing with his hair, or fucking spooning him in bed.

So, dealing with the emotions of Steve putting so much effort into his birthday with his only family on top of the love he already had for him? Fucking overwhelming.

Steve relaxed into his chest like he always did, letting out a long breath like he’d been holding it since the last time he was in this position.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he whispered.

“I wanted to. I’m excited to see you have a fun day.”

They stayed in that position for most of the rest of the ride, even when Eddie’s back started hurting at the weird angle.

The record shop was beyond his wildest dreams.

In fact, he’d had a dream once where his dream shop was still only half this size.

To say he was thrilled would be the understatement of the century.

To make things even better, there were employees on every floor there to help find things or give suggestions or just talk music.

Eddie probably would spend all day here if Steve hadn’t already made other plans.

The first floor was mostly the popular stuff and a variety of new and used record players. There were a lot of signed photos on the wall of musicians who had visited the shop while on tour.

The second floor was a lot of old rock and roll, country, and jazz. Wayne gave them a wave and disappeared among the tables.

The third floor was heaven.

Rock, metal, subgenres that had only just started springing up around urban areas. The employee on this floor was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt and battle vest, much like the one Eddie was in the process of sewing patches on.

He looked around at the posters and pictures on the wall, the flags in the corner that could be hidden if needed.

He belonged here.

“This is good, right?” Steve asked from behind him, still somehow nervous about this not being enough.

“This is amazing, Stevie. They have more than I even expected.”

“Yeah, they seem to really know what they’re doing here in the big city.”

Something in Steve’s tone made Eddie turn and focus his attention on the younger boy.

He was smiling, but it wasn’t reaching his eyes. The shine wasn’t there, the glow that Steve usually carried around Eddie lost.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asked, deciding not to pull him into his arms.

Once was probably enough today.

“Yeah! I’m just gonna check on Wayne. You look around, take your time, don’t forget I’m buying you three records!” Steve was backing away to the staircase before Eddie could respond.

“That your boyfriend?”

Eddie startled and saw the employee standing at the table behind them.

“Uh. No.”

“My bad. Just seemed like you two have a lot of…emotions.”

Eddie snorted.

The employee was tall, taller than Eddie by at least six inches. He didn’t seem much older than him, either. He was looking at him knowingly, and Eddie didn’t like it.

“Pretty sure you’re just sensing mine, man.”

“I dunno man. Seems like he’s got somethin’ goin’ on too.”

“Doubt it. He’s been my best friend a while. I think I would know.”

“Sometimes we miss what’s right in front of us.”

The employee, his nametag said Gavin, turned away and started stacking some records on the shelf at the counter.

“Um. What makes you say that, though, just out of curiosity?”

Gavin turned back to him, crossing his arms in front of his chest and smirking.

“You really wanna know?”

Eddie nodded.

“Well, your energy is screaming that you love him. If he doesn’t know now, he will soon. If you’re trying to hide it, you may have to figure out a better way. But his energy? It’s definitely more subdued, but the way he was looking at you when you walked in, dude. I’ve been with my girlfriend for five years and I don’t think either of us have looked at each other like that.”

“Like what?”

“You ever seen your idol in person? Like you can’t believe they’re actually real and are right in front of you and a part of you still thinks that you might be imagining that they’re sharing your space?”

“Um. I haven’t but I think I know what you mean.”

“He looked at you like that.”

“I think you’re imagining that.”

“Sure, maybe.”

Eddie ignored it. He had to.

He wanted to enjoy this and he couldn’t let his brain think about if he was right or wrong.

He looked around the shop, the conversation slowly floating from his memory as he found some records he’d never seen in person.

He picked three pretty quickly, knowing he could have easily bought most of what was here if he had the money.

Steve came up the stairs just as he was about to walk down them.

He was holding a John Denver record and smiling.

“Wayne’s outside. He wouldn’t admit it, but I know he wanted this so I’m getting it as a thank you for being our personal driver today. You find what you want?”

“Yeah. This place is amazing.”

Steve looked proud of himself, a look he rarely wore.

“I’m glad you like it here.”

“You’re getting the biggest hug when we leave.”

He pretended not to hear Gavin snort behind him, pushing Steve back down the stairs and sending a glare over his shoulder.

They checked out on the bottom floor, the employee at the register giving them an unexplainable look as she bagged their records.

“You boys ready for some lunch?” Wayne asked when they caught up to him by the van.

“I’m about to eat my weight in french fries.”

He did eat almost his weight in french fries.

He ate two large servings and most of Steve’s medium size, a Big Mac, and an apple pie.

Steve stuck to a cheeseburger and fries, while Wayne got a quarter pounder.

Eddie acted like he was eating a gourmet meal.

When they were done, they drove to the guitar shop.

Eddie felt the nerves hit as they pulled into the parking lot, suddenly realizing he was about to play guitar with someone who worked with people he idolized.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said quickly, hoping Wayne would put the van in reverse and take them home so he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“This guy is a professional. I don’t even know how to read music. He’s gonna think this is such a waste of time.”

“I’m gonna have a smoke while you two talk,” Wayne said as he opened the door and got out.

“Eds, you’re so talented. This guy won’t care if you can’t read music as long as you can play guitar.”

“What if I forget everything I know?”

“Have you ever forgotten everything you know?”

“No…”

“It won’t happen in there. Just go enjoy this. Soak in some information. Maybe you could ask him what the local scene here is for young metal bands.”

“Maybe he knows someone who could get us in front of the right people!” Eddie yelled excitedly.

“Exactly,” Steve said, looking down at the floor of the van.

“That would be cool, right?”

“Yeah, Eds. That would be amazing,” Steve still didn’t look up and Eddie could see he was barely smiling. “You better head inside so you aren’t late. He keeps a tight schedule.”

“Okay. You guys gonna wait here or come inside?”

“I think we’re gonna wait out here. This is your time to shine.”

Eddie opened the door and started to get out.

“Um, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you get everything you want out of this.”

Eddie felt a pang in his chest at the way Steve was looking at him.

He was happy for him, but seemed like he was holding back tears. He didn’t have time to ask about it now, so he got out of the van.

“Thanks, Stevie. See you soon!”

As Eddie made his way inside the small building, he turned to see Wayne patting Steve on the shoulder while Steve covered his face with both hands.

The session was incredible, and the guy was impressed at how well Eddie could play just teaching himself by ear.

He’d recommended a couple bars for Corroded Coffin to play at in Indy when they turned 18, said that most places downtown were always looking for newer and younger bands to get on the scene.

He also suggested they try to get in a studio to record a demo and start sending them in whenever they could afford to. Even if they weren’t wanting to sign them, they might be interested in gaining some in house musicians.

The ride home was quiet, even though Eddie felt like he was buzzing out of his skin. Steve was resting his head against the window, watching the fields pass by as the sun started to set.

His eyes were closed like he was asleep, but Eddie didn’t think he actually was, his shoulders tensed up almost to his ears.

“Good day, Ed?” Wayne asked from the front, interrupting his mind wandering through thoughts of what could possibly have Steve so sad.

“The best.”

“Your boy really pulled out all the stops, huh?”

“Mhm,” Eddie glanced over at Steve, who was still in the same position.

“He really cares about you, Ed.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if ya do, but that’s alright. You will someday.”

Eddie leaned his head against his own window, thinking about what Wayne said.

What Gavin said.

The way Steve had been so sad giving him so many amazing gifts, how Wayne was comforting him when they thought he wasn’t watching, how closed off Steve seemed when he got finished with the session.

He’d ask him about it tomorrow.

When they got home, the sun had just finished setting.

Wayne was tired, and he had an early shift, so he went inside to eat a quick dinner and go to bed.

“I’m gonna take a drive. Steve, you wanna come?”

“Sure,” Steve replied.

“Alright, school tomorrow. Be home by 10. Both of you.”

“Got it.”

They both got back in the van.

“Pick some music,” Eddie said as he backed out onto the gravel road of the trailer park.

“It’s your birthday, you pick.”

“Nah, I want you to pick.”

Steve sighed but started going through the glovebox to look for the tapes he kept in the van for himself.

He decided on Tears For Fears, much to Eddie’s amusement.

This was the tape he chose least often because he knew Eddie didn’t like them. Plus, he’d mentioned once that he had to be in a certain mood to listen to them.

Must be in that certain mood, whatever that was.

They drove in silence other than the music playing, exhaustion creeping in from their day.

Eddie finally pulled onto the road leading to the quarry, taking it slow so the song could finish before they parked.

When he did, he hopped out and opened the passenger door for Steve to do the same.

“What are we doing here?” Steve asked.

“Stargazing.”

Steve seemed to melt at that, his real smile finally returning.

“On the ground?”

“Nah. Roof of the van.”

They’d done this before, but never during the winter. It was cold, and the clothes they’d been wearing all day probably weren’t enough to be outside for long periods of time.

But Eddie just wanted a tiny bit of time with Steve, wanted to see if he could figure out what was going on with him without outright asking.

Once they settled on the roof, Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he looked for constellations.

“Today was the best birthday I’ve ever had,” Eddie whispered.

Steve turned his head to look at him, but he kept watching the stars.

“I’m glad.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Eddie finally turned his head to look at Steve.

He didn’t look as sad anymore, but he definitely didn’t look like he had this morning.

“You just seemed sad a lot today.”

This was it. Either Steve would admit he was sad, or he would try to cover it up.

“I wasn’t sad. It’s just a lot of emotions, I guess.”

“Why?”

“You just have a really great future ahead of you, ya know? Seeing you get to experience something like today made me realize that you’re being held back here.”

It was more honest than Eddie had expected him to be, but he was still holding back.

Eddie knew better than to push further, though.

“I think today was the first time it felt like I could have a future outside of Hawkins.”

There it was. The sad smile.

Eddie hated that look.

Steve looked back up at the sky and nudged his shoulder.

“Look, a shooting star!”

Eddie looked, squeezing Steve’s hand in his.

“We should make a wish. Close your eyes.”

He waited for Steve to close his eyes before closing his own.

They both opened their eyes at the same time.

“Gonna tell me what you wished for?” Eddie was curious, but he was already prepared for Steve to laugh it off and tell him it won’t come true if he tells.

“Not tonight. Someday.”

Hm.

“Okay.”

They stayed there for a few more minutes, until neither of them could feel their noses in the frigid January night air.

Steve seemed to get back to normal soon after his birthday, though his schedule was pretty full most days.

Basketball, tutoring, and volunteering at his dad’s request kept him out of the next campaign with Hellfire.

He missed band practices even though they started holding them later so they could finish homework first.

Eddie felt like something still changed despite Steve being back to his normal self.

He still slept over most nights, and still cooked them dinner, but even Wayne shot him worried looks every once in a while when Steve seemed off.

Steve called late one night, right before finals, and Eddie rushed to answer so it wouldn’t wake Wayne up.

“Hello?”

“Eddie.”

Steve sounded wrong.

Something was wrong.

“Steve? What’s wrong? Are you at home?”

“I’m.” He was breathing heavy. Something was wrong, wrong, wrong. “You know the gas station by my neighborhood?”

“Yeah,” he said, already grabbing his keys. “I can be there in five minutes.”

“Don’t speed. Be careful.”

Eddie was careful, but he did speed. He knew the only cop on patrol tonight would be Powell, and Powell practically slept his entire shift away by Lover’s Lake.

He arrived in six minutes, rushing out of the van when he saw Steve crouched by the payphone he’d used to call Eddie.

He fell to his knees in front of him, reaching out to try to comfort.

Steve flinched and then seemed to regret it, forcing himself to look up.

He had a black eye and a split lip, barely visible under the dim lighting coming from the phone booth behind them.

“Who did this to you?”

“My dad found out I was in Hellfire, he ruined the shirt, I’m sorry I tried to grab it from him, but he pushed me and I almost fell down the stairs and I had to try to keep my balance-“

“Shhh. Stevie, take a deep breath. It’s okay,” Eddie felt far from okay.

Steve’s dad had physically hurt him and Steve had, presumably, run from the house with apparently nothing but what he had on him.

“I can’t go back,” Steve whimpered.

Eddie pulled him into his chest, into his safe space, being careful not to rub against his eye or lip.

“Is anywhere else hurt?”

“My ribs hurt a little from being pushed, but I don’t think anything’s broken.”

“Shit, maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

“No!” Steve pulled away, panic all over his face. “No, they’ll just call him and he’ll be even more mad that I went there.”

“Stevie, is this the first time this has happened?”

“Of course it is.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

Steve was shaking like a leaf, his body unable to relax against Eddie’s chest like it usually did the moment he was there.

“He’s never left bruises before.”

“Okay. You’re coming to stay with us, at least until he leaves town again. When’s his next trip?”

“He said something about leaving Saturday. My mom is on a girl’s trip for the rest of the month, I guess.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

He’d never understand rich people, but he’d especially never understand how someone like Richard Harrington could exist without punishment.

If Steve went to the hospital and got the police involved, maybe he could just live with him.

But Steve was almost 16, had been dreaming about the BMW his dad already had waiting for him in their four car garage for the last six months. If he got cut off from them, they’d make his life hell, and probably Wayne and Eddie’s too.

They had power where Eddie had nothing.

“He won’t know where you are tonight, right? Won’t come looking? Wayne will shoot him on sight if he tries and I’d rather Wayne not go to prison.”

Steve let out a small, quiet laugh, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to laugh right now.

“Let’s get you home, huh?”

Steve nodded and stood up, a little wobbly on his feet.

His eye was swollen shut, so his father must have put quite a bit of force behind the hit. He may have a concussion.

Shit.

“Hey, did you hit your head on anything? Other than your dad’s fist?”

“Not that I remember.”

Shit. Shit.

“Okay. Let’s um. Get you home and check you out there.”

“Mkay.”

Eddie helped Steve into his van, helping him buckle the seatbelt and close the door.

The ride home mostly consisted of Eddie trying to keep Steve conscious just in case he did have a concussion.

He was not looking forward to waking Wayne up with this.

Wayne would be mad, but not at them. No, definitely not at them.

He’d be doing his best to not show up to the Harrington house and take care of Richard himself.

Apparently, Wayne had woken up at some point while he was gone, maybe when he’d started his not-very-quiet van to get Steve. He was standing on the porch smoking a cigarette when they pulled in the yard.

“He’s gonna be mad,” Steve sounded scared.

He’d never been scared of Wayne before.

“Stevie, he won’t be mad at you. He’s gonna be mad at your shithead father for laying his hands on you.”

“But it’s a school night and it’s late and-“

“Steve. He will be more worried about you being okay than the fact that we’re up late on a school night.”

Steve nodded.

Wayne was coming down the porch steps, probably wondering what was taking them so long.

Eddie hopped out, stopping him before he could get to the van.

“I need you to promise me you’ll stay calm,” Eddie begged.

“I ain’t doin’ that. What the hell is goin’ on? Is that Steve?”

“It is. I had to go pick him up from the gas station by his house.”

“He locked out or somethin’?”

“No. His dad didn’t like that he was involved in my club and I’m sure plenty of other stuff pissed him off and his fist decided to take it out on Steve’s face.”

Even in the dark, Eddie could see Wayne’s face go red in anger as he dropped the cigarette on the ground and stepped on it.

He started to make his way over to the passenger side too quickly for Eddie to stop him.

He opened the door and looked at Steve, who’d started crying again.

“Come here, son,” Wayne said gently, reaching out to pull him out of the van and into his arms.

Eddie could hear Steve sobbing, could see the way Wayne was rocking him back and forth just slightly to keep him moving.

He looked over at Eddie and Eddie just knew.

Wayne was not going to rest until something was done about this.

And he didn’t.

After he helped get Steve’s face cleaned up, and set alarms for every few hours in case he did have a concussion, he left him to get changed.

He turned to Eddie in the hall.

“I’ll be back. Might not be ‘til after my shift tomorrow. You keep him home from school. I’ll write ya a note.”

“Where are you going? You can’t go to his house, Wayne.”

“I’m going to have a chat with Jim. We’ve had this discussion before and this is the last time I’m havin’ it before I do what needs to be done myself. Don’t tell Steve about it, and don’t let him leave this house until I’m back. You understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You go take care of your boy.”

Eddie nodded.

He went into his bedroom, smiling at Steve passed out shirtless in his bed.

Until he got closer and saw some bruises along his back. Almost like a footprint. Like someone had stepped on him.

Eddie bit back a sob as he sat down on the bed, grateful Wayne had gone to take care of this, but worried what it might mean for all of them.

“I’m gonna take care of you, Stevie. I promise you won’t ever be hurt again, not like this, not by him,” Eddie whispered.

Steve slept on, not even moving when Eddie got comfortable and placed an arm around his waist.

As long as he was here, he was safe.

As long as Eddie could hold him like this, Steve would be fine.

Chapter 3

TAG LIST: @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @renaissan-vvitch @estrellami-1

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #wayne munson #it led me to you #chapter 2 #please check tags on ao3 all the time #high school #ao3fic

160 notes · View notes

layce2015 · 7 months

Text

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

My Bloody Valentine

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

"So...you were the one who found the bodies?" Sam asked the roommate to this girl named Alice, who had died along with this guy....by them eating each other to death. "There was blood everywhere...and...other stuff...I think Alice was already dead." the girl said, upset. "But Russell wasn't?" Sam asked her. "I think he was, mostly, except...he was still sort of...chewing a little." she replied and I do everything in my powerto not gag and throw up. "Oh. Uh-huh." Sam mutters.

"How do two people even do that--Eat each other to death?" the girl asked. "That's a really good question." I said as I hold back the vomit that was creeping up on me. "Now, the last few days, did you notice her acting erratically?" I asked her. "How do you mean?" the girl asked me, confused. "I mean, did she seem...unusually hostile, aggressive?" I asked and the girl shakes her head.

"No way. Alice never drank, never even swore. She was a nice girl. And I'm talking, like, a nice girl--Like she still had her promise ring, if you know what I mean." she said. "She was a virgin?" Sam asked her and she nods. "No premarital. I used to wonder how she did it. I mean, you know, didn't do it. It was her first date in months. She was so excited." the girl said. "Apparently, they were both pretty excited." I joked and Sam rolls his eyes.

"How'd it go?" Dean asked us as we walked into the motel room, bringing in a bag of fast food and a small grocery bag. "Um...No EMF, no sulfur. Ghost possession and demonic possession are both probably out." Sam said. "Hmm. That's where I was puttin' my money." Dean said. "Nope." Sam said as Dean rubs his eyes. "Well, then what, then?" he asked and Sam and I shrug.

"Oh, guys! At the coroner's-- you didn't see these bodies. I mean, these two started eating a- and they just...kept going. I mean, their stomachs were full. Like - like...Thanksgiving-dinner full. Talk about co-dependent." Dean said. "Well...I mean, we got our feelers out. Not much more we can do tonight." I said as I sit on the bed and pulled out a chocolate bar out of the grocery bag and start to eat on it.

"All right. I'm just gonna go through some files...at the library. So you two can have fun." Sam said and I look over at him as I break another piece of the chocolate in pop it in my mouth. "Sorry?" Dean and I said. "Go ahead. Unleash the kraken. See you two later or in the morning." Sam said.

"What are we doing?" Dean asked Sam. "Dean, it's Valentine's day. Your favorite holiday, remember? I mean, you used to always call it-- Uh, unattached drifter Christmas? But now that you're clearly attached..." Sam said as he nods at me. "Figured you two would like some alone time."

"Oh, yeah. Well...be that as it may...I don't know. Guess I'm not feeling it tonight." Dean said, shrugging. Then Sam looks over at me. "Honestly, I'm fine. Besides, never really was a huge fan of Valentine's Day. I'd rather have an unexpected romantic gesture on any other day." I said as I break another piece of chocolate and eat it. "This is why you're my favorite." Dean said, joking, and I let out a playful scoff.

Dean takes a sip and I look over at Sam, who seemed surprised and confused. "What?" we asked him. "That's when a dog doesn't eat-- That's when you know something's really wrong." Sam said as he mainly stares at Dean in surprise. "Remarkably patronizing concern duly noted. Nothing's wrong. We gonna work or what?" Dean said as he sits down at the table and Sam eyes him, worriedly, until he eventually sits down at the table and I join them and we get to work.

A moment later, Sam turns and looks out the window them he sniffs the air. "You okay?" I asked Sam, concerned. "Yeah, I'm fine." Sam said as he slowly turns back and gets back to work.

"Agent Marley, you just can't stay away." the doctor, Dr Corman, said as Dean, Sam and I walk into the morgue the next day. "Heard you tagged another double suicide." Dean said. "Well, I just finished closing them up." The doctor said then Dean turns to me and Sam.

"Dr. Corman, these are my partners, special agent Cliff and Jett." Dena introduced and Corman nods at us. "Agent Cliff and Agent Jett. I've finished my prelims. I pulled the organ sets and sent off the tox samples." he said. "Great. You mind if we take a look at the bodies?" Sam asked him. "Not at all. But like I said -their...Good-and-plenties are already tupperwared." Corman said. "Super." I said, a bit of sarcasm in my voice.

"Leave the keys with Marty up front. And please, gentlemen and lady...refrigerate after opening..." Corman said and he leaves and we go over to the Tupperware filled with organs and we put on gloves and start to examine the remains.

"Hey." Dean said, after nudging my side. I turn to him and he hands me one of the hearts we were examining. "Be my Valentine?" He asked me and I chuckle a bit. "Oh, how sweet. And they say romance is dead." I said, sarcastically, and Dean chuckles lightly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second." Sam said as he looks at the heart in my hands. "These hearts both have identical marks. Check this out. It looks like some kind of letter." He said as he takes the heart out of my hands and examines it. "Oh, no." He mutters. "What?" Dean and I asked. "I think it's Enochian." Sam said.

"You mean like angel scratches? So you think it's like the tagging on our ribs?" I asked him. "(Y/n), I don't know." Sam said, unsure. "Ah, hell." Dean said and he trembles hid gloves, pulls out his phone and dials a number. "Cas, it's Dean. Yeah, room 31-c, basement level...St. James medical center." He said. "I'm there now." Cas said as he appears in front of us, still holding the phone to his ear.

"Yeah, I get that." Dean said as he stares at him. "I'm gonna hang up now." Cas said. "Right." said Dean and Cas hangs up the phone then goes over to the table and picks up one of the hearts. "You're right, Sam. These are angelic marks. I imagine you'll find similar marks on the other couples' hearts as well--" Cas said.

"So, what are they? I mean, what do they mean?" Sam asked. "It's a mark of union. This man and woman were intended to mate." Cas said. "Okay, but who put them there?" I asked, confused. "Well, your people call them Cupid." Cas replied and I furrow my brow at this.

"A what?" Sam asked. "What human myth has mistaken for Cupid is actually a lower order of angel. Technically it's a cherub, third-class." Cas explains. "Cherub?" Dean asked. "Yeah, they're all over the world. There are dozens of them." said Cas. "You mean the little flying fat kid in diapers?" I asked Cas, to clarify. "They're not incontinent." Castiel said.

"Okay, anyway. So, what you're saying--" Sam said, trying to figure out what was being said. "What I'm saying is a Cupid has gone rogue and we have to stop him--before he kills again." Castiel said. "Naturally." Sam said. "Of course we do." Dean grumbles.

Later, we go to a resturant and the waitress brings Dean a cheeseburger, Sam a salad and me a grilled chicken sandwich. Dean then looks over at Cas, who was sitting across from me and Dean and next to Sam.

"So, what, you just happen to know he likes the cosmos at this place?" Dean asked him. "This place is a nexus of human reproduction. It's exactly the kind of-of garden the Cupid will come to-- to pollinate." Cas said as Dean puts ketchup on his cheeseburger and was about to eat it but put it back down at Cas' last words.

"Wait a minute. You're not hungry?" I asked him. "No." Dean said and I furrow my brow at him. "What? I'm not hungry." Dean said. "Then you're not gonna finish that?" Cas said and he takes Dean's cheeseburger and begins to eat it.

After a few minutes, Cas looks around then said. "He's here." and we look around. "Where? I don't see anything." Sam said. "There." Cas said as he nods towards the couple across from us. "You mean the same-side-of-the-booth couple over there?" Dean asked as he nods towards the couple. "Meet me in the back." Cas tells us as he gets up and leaves.

"Cas, where is he?" Sam asked Cas after we make it to the back of the restaurant. "I have him tethered." Cas assures then he begins a chant. "Zoda kama mahrana. Manifest yourself." he said and we look around. "So, where is he?" Dean asked, when suddenly a chubby, almost naked man appears and grabs Dean in a hug.

"Oof!" Dean said. "Here I am!" the cupid said, happily. "Help!" Dean yells and I had to hold back a laugh. "Oh, help is on the way. Yes, it is. Yes, it is." Cupid said then he drops Dean then walks over to Cas. "Hello, you!" he said and he picks Castiel up, hugging him.

"This is Cupid?" I asked Cas. "Yes." Cas replied and Cupid sets him down then turns to me. "C'mere you!" He said as he walks over to me. "Oh God, no...!" I said but he grabs me and pulls me into a hug. "Ugh, feels like I'm being hugged by a boa constrictor." I groaned as he sets me down and looks over at Sam.

"And look at you, huh?" He said. "No." Sam said and he turns away but Cupid appears in front of him, hugging him too. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" he said. "Is this a fight? Are we in a fight?" Dean asked. "This is...Their handshake." Cas said. "I don't like it." Dean said. "No one likes it." Cas said as I hold my side. "I think he bruised a rib." I said and Cupid stops hugging Sam and turns to us.

"What can I do for you?" he asked. "Why are you doing this?" Castiel asked him. "Doing what?" Cupid asked, confused. "Your targets-- the ones you've marked--They're slaughtering each other." Cas tells him. "What? They are?" Cupid said, almost like he was shocked. "Listen, birthday suit, we know, okay? We know you been flittin' around, popping people with your poison arrow, making them murder each other!" Dean yells and Cupid looked a bit upset.

"What we don't know is why." Cas said. "You think that I--Well, uh...I don't know what to say." Cupid said then he walk away a few feet from us and begins to cry.

"Should...Should somebody maybe...go talk to him?" I asked. "Yeah, that's a good idea. Give 'em hell, Cas." Dena tells Cas, who sighs then walks over to Cupid. "Um...look. We didn't mean to, um...hurt your feelings." Cas said then Cupid hugs him.

"Love is more than a word to me, you know. I love love. I love it! And if that's wrong, I don't want to be right!" Cupid exclaims. "Yes, yes. Of course. I, uh...I have no idea what you're saying." Cas said, groaning. "I was just on my appointed rounds. Whatever my targets do after that that's nothing to do with me. I- I was following my orders. Please brother. Read my mind. Read my mind, you'll see." Cupid said as he lets go of Cas then Cas stares at him for a few moments.

"He's telling the truth." Castiel said as he turns to us. "Jiminy Christmas. Thank you." Cupid said, happily. "Wait, wait, you said--You said you were just following orders?" I asked and Cupid nods. "Whose orders?" I asked. "Whose?" Cupid said then he begins to laugh. "Heaven, silly. Heaven." He said.

"Why does heaven care if Harry meets Sally?" Dean asked him. "Oh, mostly they don't. You know, certain bloodlines, certain destinies. Oh, like yours." Cupid said, nodding towards Dean and Sam. "What?" Sam asked. "Yeah, the union of John and Mary Winchester--Very big deal upstairs, top priority arrangement. Mm." Cupid said.

"Are you saying that you fixed-up our parents?" Dean asked him. "Well, not me, but...Yeah. Well, it wasn't easy, either. Ooh, they couldn't stand each other at first. But when we were done with them--Perfect couple." Cupid said.

"Perfect?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Cupid said, nodding.

"They're dead!" Dean yells. "I'm sorry, but...the orders were very clear. You and Sam needed to be born. Your parents were just, uh...meant to be." Cupid said then he begins to sing. "A match made in heaven- heaven!" Then Dean punches Cupid. "Son of a bitch!" Dean yells but Cupid disappears.

"Where is he? Where'd he go?!" Dean asked, angrily. "I believe you upset him." Cas said, plainly. "Upset him?!" Dean yelled and I go up to him and place my hands on his chest. "Dean. Enough!" I said. "What?" Dean asked me, angrily. "You just punched a Cupid!" I shouted at him. "I punched a dick!" Dean screams.

"Um...Are we gonna talk about what's been up with you lately or not?" Sam asked Dean. "Or not." Dean growls as he pushes me aside and walks off while I scoff.

"Hey. So, uh, this guy was not marked by Cupid, but his death is definitely suspicious." Sam tells us over the phone. He had gone to the medical center again to investigate that a man had died from eating a crap ton of Twinkies. Dean and I were walking to the Impala, bout to head back to the motel, as Dean has his phone on speaker so that I could hear it while I had a bag of Oreo cookies in my hand and was eating them.

"Yeah, well, (y/n) and I just went through the police blotter, and counting him, that's eight suicides since Wednesday and 19 ODs-- That's way out of the seasonal batting average." Dean said. "Yeah, if there's a pattern here, it ain't just love. It's a hell of a lot bigger than we thought." Sam said.

"Yeah, all right. We'll see you in 10." Dean said. "Yeah, okay." Sam said and Dean hangs up and we get into the car. I had eaten a couple of the cookies when Dean looks over at me. "If there is any crumbs in this car, you're cleaning it." He warns me as I swallow the cookie. "Sorry, Dean...I'll be careful." I said as I put another cookie in my mouth.

"What is going on with you?" He asked me and I shrug. "I don't know. Suddenly, I've been having a strong craving for any chocolate of some kind!" I said after swallowing the cookie. "Oh God, please tell me you're not pregnant." He groans. "No! At least....I don't think so." I said as I try to think. The last time Dean and I had sex was only about a couple of weeks ago when Sam said he was going out for awhile and Dean and I were able to get a couple of rounds in before Sam came back in.

But there was no way the cravings would've kicked in that soon....could it? I mean this craving started to happen when we got here.

I look over at Dean as he gives me a look that says Are you sure? "Look, if it continues, I'll go get the test." I said and Dean nods and he starts up the car and we head off.

"Dean?" I said after a moment of silence. "Hmmm." Dean hums. "Do you think...those Cupids set up my parents?" I asked and Dean turns his head to look at me for a moment before turning his head back to the road. "I don't know...maybe...I mean, it's a possibility since you're Ariel’s vessel." Dean said and I think. "But it seems any angel we've been in contact with and when they see her, they act surprised." I said and Dena shrugs. "Maybe not then..." he said as I think again.

"You think...they set...us up?" I asked Dean and immediately he shakes his head. "No." He said, firmly. "How do you know?" I asked him. "Because if they planned for me and Sam to start the apocalypse, I doubt it." He said and I give him a look. "So you're saying I might have been a mistake or a fluke?" I asked, a bit of a laugh in my voice. He smirks a bit, taken noticed of the laugh in my voice then said. "Possibly. But if you were planned or a mistake, I can assure you...."

Dean looks over at me then takes my hand in his right hand and holds it. "...meeting you was no mistake. And I believe my feelings for you are real." Dean said and I smile at him. "You can be real sweet, you know that?" I said and Dean chuckles. "Oh, yeah. I'm a really Prince Charming." He jokes and we share a laugh.

"What the hell does a demon got to do with this, anyway?" Dean asked Sam as he paces the motel room. After we got back to the motel room, Sam walked in, carrying a briefcase, and told us that he had encountered a demon on his way here. He killed the demon and took the case with him. "Believe me, I got no idea." Sam said to me, Dean and Cas, who had stayed at our room as we went out investigating.

"You okay?" I asked him. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be all right." Sam assures me as Dean looks at the briefcase. "Let's crack her open. What's the worst that could happen, right?" Dean asked and he opens the case and a bright light shines inside.

"Whoa!" Sam said, in awe. "What the hell was that?" I asked as Dean shuts the case. "It's a human soul. It's starting to make sense." Castiel said as he takes a bite out of his burger. "Now, what about that makes sense?" Sam asked him. "And when did you start eating?" Dean asked Cas, nodding at the burger in his hands.

"Exactly. My hunger-- it's a clue, actually." Cas said. "For what?" The boys and I asked, in unison. "This town is not suffering from some love-gone-wrong effect. It's suffering from hunger. Starvation, to be exact--Specifically...famine." Cas said. "Famine? As- as in the horseman?" Sam asked, shocked, and Cas nods. "Great. Th- th-that's freaking great." Dean grumbles.

"I thought famine meant starvation, like as in, you know, food." I said, questioning. "Yes. Absolutely. But not just food. I mean, everyone seems to be starving for something--Sex, attention, drugs, love..." Cas said. "Well, that explains the puppy-lovers that Cupid shot up." Dean said. "Right. The cherub made them crave love, and then Famine came, and made them rabid for it." Cas said and a light bulb goes off in my brain.

"That would explain my chocolate cravings." I said as I look at Dean, who seemed a bit relieved. "Okay, but what about you? I mean, since when do angels secretly hunger for White Castle?" Dean asked Castiel. "It's my vessel-- Jimmy. His, uh, appetite for red meat has been touched by Famine's effect." Cas said as he takes another bite of burger.

"So, Famine just rolls into town and everybody goes crazy?" I asked and Cas nods. "And then will come Famine riding on a black steed. He will ride into the land of plenty...and great will be the Horseman's hunger, for he is hunger. His hunger will seep out and poison the air." Cas recites and he looks over at us. "Famine is hungry. He must devour the souls of his victims." He said.

"So, that's what was in the briefcase--The twinkie dude's soul?" Dean asked. "Lucifer has sent his demons to care for Famine, to feed him, make certain he'll be ready." Cas said. "Ready for what?" Sam asked. "To March across the land." Cas replied.

"Famine?" Dean asked Cas who continues to eat his burger while Sam was in the bathroom. "Yes." Cas said through the mouthful of burgers. "So, what, this whole town is just gonna eat, drink, and screw itself to death?" I asked Cas and he nods. "We should stop it." he said. "Yeah, that's a great idea." Dean said with sarcasm. "How?" I asked Cas.

"How did you stop the last horseman you met?" Cas asked us. "War got his mojo from this ring. And after we cut it off, he just tucked tail and ran. And everybody that was affected, it was like they woke up out of a dream. You think Famine's got a class ring, too?" Dean said. "I know he does." Castiel said. "Well, okay. L- let's track him down and get to chopping." I said. "Yeah." Cas said then he eyes his empty fast food bag sadly.

"What are you, the Hamburglar?" Dean asked him. "I've developed a taste for ground beef." Cas replied. "Well, have you even tried to stop it?" Dean asked him. "I'm an angel. I can stop anytime I want." Cas said. "Whatever. Sam, (y/n) let's roll." Dean said and I nod, even though I keep feeling this strong urge to eat chocolate. Unfortunately, I ate all of the cookies.

"Dean...I, um...I can't. I can't go." Sam said as he walks out of the bathroom, looking tired. "What do you mean?" Dean asked. "I think it got to me, Dean. I think I'm hungry for it..." Sam said. "Hungry for what?" Dean asked, confused, but my eyes widen in fear. "Demon blood?" I asked and Sam hangs his head. "You got to be kidding me." Dean grumbles then he turns to Castiel.

"You got to get him out of here. You got to beam him to, like, Montana. Anywhere but here." Dean tells her. "It won't work. He's already infected. The hunger is just gonna travel with him. The same goes for (y/n)." Castiel said and I look down.

"Well, then, what do we do?" Dean asked. "You go cut that bastard's finger off." Sam said and Dean stares at him then turns to me and Cas. "You heard him." Dean said and I nod. "But, Dean...before you go, you better...you better lock me down - but good." Sam said.

Minutes later, I cuff Sam to the bathroom sink pipe. "All right, well, just hang in there. We'll be back as soon as we can." I tell him. "Be careful. And...hurry." Sam tells me and I nodded. "We'll do our best." I assure him as I place a hand on his shoulder and give him a reassuring smile.

Dean and I exit the bathroom, and Castiel blocks the bathroom door with a dresser.

"Hey, Marty. Is Dr. Corman around?" Dean asked the secretary as we walked into the hospital and I was eating on a chocolate bar. "You haven't heard?" Marty asked us. "Heard what?" Dean and I asked. "Guy's been dry for the last 20 years, but this morning, he left work, went home, and drank himself to death." Marty said.

"It's Famine." Cas said and I turn to him and shake my head. "Pardon?" Marty asked then Dean turns to him. "Would you give us a minute, please?" Dean asked him. "Sure." said Marty. "Thanks." Dean said and him, Cas and I walk away.

"Crap! I really kind of liked this guy." Dean said. "They haven't harvested his soul yet." Castiel said. "Well, if we want to play follow the soul to get to Famine, our best shot starts with the doc, here." I said and Dean nods.

Later, Dean and I were in the Impala, in front of the hospital, and once again I was eating on some chocolate bar when Dean looks over at me. "You're gonna get a stomach ache, you know that?" He said and I turn to him. "Oh thanks, Dad. I didn't know that." I said, sarcastically. "Look, I've been trying to stop but...." I said when I look at the rear view mirror and see Cas sitting in the backseat with another burger.

"Are you serious?" Dean asked once he noticed Cas' appearance. "These make me...very happy." Cas said. "How many is that?" I asked him. "I lost count. It's in the low hundreds." Cas said then he looks at Dean.

"What I don't understand is...where is your hunger, Dean?" he asked. "Huh?" said Dean. "Well, slowly but surely, everyone in this town is falling prey to Famine, but so far, you seem unaffected." Cas said. "Hey, when I want to drink, I drink. When I want sex, I go get it. Same goes for a sandwich or a fight." Dean said as he pats my thigh.

"So...you're saying you're just well-adjusted?" Cas asked. "God, no. I'm just well-fed." Dean replied and I roll my eyes. "Look there." Cas said as we see a man in a black suit coming out of the hospital, carrying a briefcase. He drives off so we follow him in the Impala.

"Demons. You want to go over the plan again?" Dean asked Cas after we followed the guy to the resturant but Cas kept eating his burger. "Hey, happy meal. The plan?" Dean asked. "I take the knife, I go in, I cut off the ring hand of Famine, and I meet you back here in the parking lot." Cas said. "Well, that sounds foolproof." Dean grumbles and Cas disappears.

A few minutes had passed and Cas had not returned. "This is taking too long." Dean growls and he gets out of the car. "You stay here, okay?" Dean said to me as he turns to look at me through the window. "You sure?" I asked him. "You're infected by his influence, I don't want you near him." Dean said and I nod.

"If I don't come back out, go back to the motel and get Sam." Dean said. "But what about his demon blood hunger?" I asked. "I'm aware of that but...it might be our last hope if I don't make it." Dean said. "Okay, be careful." I tell him and he nods and he stares at me for a moment. "I love you." He said and I give him a small smile. "I love you too." I said and he walks away from the car and towards the Resturant.

*3rd Person's POV*

"Cas! Cas." Dean calls out as he enters the building, only to see Castiel kneeling on the floor, stuffing his mouth with raw ground meat. Two demons attack Dean, and bring him to Famine, and old man in a wheelchair with a breathing tube in his nose. "The other Mr. Winchester." Famine said.

"What did you do to him?" Dean asked as he gestures to Castiel. "You sicced your dog on me. I just threw him a steak." Famine said. "So this is your big trick? Huh? Making people cuckoo for cocoa puffs?" Dean asked. Doesn't take much--hardly a push. Oh, America--all-you-can-eat, all the time. Consume, consume. A swarm of locusts in stretch pants. And yet, you're all still starving because hunger doesn't just come from the body, it also comes from the soul." Famine said.

"It's funny, it doesn't seem to be coming from mine." Dean said, smirking. "Yes. I noticed that. Have you wondered why that is? How you could even walk in my presence?" Famine asked him. "Well, I like to think it's because of my strength of character." Dean said, sarcastically. "I disagree." Famine said and he moves closer to Dean and touches him.

"Yes. I see. That's one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can't fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex." Famine said. "Oh, you're so full of crap." Dean growls. "Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother and your pretty little girlfriend, lie to yourself, but not to me! I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated. You can't win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just...keep going through the motions. You're not hungry, Dean, because inside, you're already...dead." Famine said.

"Let him go." a voice commanded and Famine turns to face Sam, whose face is stained with blood. "Sam..." Famine said. "Sammy, no!" Dean said as two of the five demons guarding Famine move to attack Sam. "Stop! No one lays a finger on this sweet little boy. Sam, I see you got the snack I sent you." Famine said to him. "You sent?" Sam asked. "Don't worry. You're not like everyone else. You'll never die from drinking too much. You're the exception that proves the rule. Just the way...Satan wanted you to be. So..." Famine said and he lifts his hands and gestures at the demons guarding him.

"...cut their throats. Have at them!" he said. "Sammy, no!" Dean yells. "Please, be my guest." Famine said to Sam. Sam lifts his hand, closes his eyes, and pulls all five demons from their hosts at once. Dean watches in shock while (y/n) runs in, after seeing Sam entering the building. She also looks on in shock as the demon smoke pools on the floor.

"No." Sam said, lowering his hand. "Well...Fine. If you don't want them...then I'll have them." Famine said then he opens his mouth and devours all five of the demon souls. Sam steps forward and extends his hand toward Famine. "I'm a Horseman, Sam. Your power doesn't work on me." Famine sneers. "You're right. But it will work on them." Sam said and he uses his power to rip out all the souls Famine consumed.

Famine screams out in pain while Sam's nose bleeds with the effort, but the demon souls explode out of Famine and Famine slumps, his eyes empty. Dean and (y/n) look at Sam, as does Castiel.

Hours later, Castiel, Dean and (y/n) make it to Bobby's house and put Sam inside of the panic room. Castiel and Dean stand outside the panic room door as Sam screams. "Let me out of here, please! Help!" he screams as Dean looks down and drinks from the bottle of whiskey.

"That's not him in there. Not really." Castiel assures Dean. "I know." Dean mutters. "Dean, Sam just has to get it out of his system. Then he'll be--" Castiel said then Dean shakes his head, slightly. "Listen, I just, uh...I just need to get some air." Dean said and he heads upstairs.

(y/n), who was sitting in the kitchen, looks up and sees Dean walking up the stairs. "Hey..." she said, softly, but Dean ignores her and heads to the front door. "Dean..." she said, worried, but the sound of the door shutting told her that he went outside and she sighs.

Dean walks out onto the scrap yard, a bottle in his hand, and looks up at the sky. "Please...I can't...I need some help." he said, tears in his eyes and throat. "Please?" he cries as he looks up at the sky, tears rolling down his cheek.

Meanwhile, inside of Bobby's house, (y/n) was sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands and the sounds of Sam's screaming could still be heard, when she heard the sounds of wings next to her. She turns her head and see Ariel standing next to her. "Hey..." she said, softly, and she looks towards the door of the basement as Sam continues to scream.

"Where have you been?" (Y/n) asked her. "Still trying to find Dad." Ariel said. "And how's that going?" (Y/n) asked her. "Honestly? Not good. Seems like I can't find him but...I guess I still have hope." Ariel said and she goes to sit across from (y/n).

Sam's screams and yells continue and Ariel looks towards the door again then she turns to (y/n). "Cas told me what happened. And...." Ariel said and (y/n) let's out a sigh. "Ariel, I have a question." She said, firmly, and the archangel was taken aback a bit but nods.

"Okay..." she said. "Cas introduced us to a Cupid...and he said that they set up John and Mary by order from Heaven." (Y/n) said and Ariel nods. "Since you told me I'm your vessel...was my parents set up just so I could be born?" (Y/n) asked her.

Ariel stares at her then sighs as she looks down at the table. "When I heard about the plan of the joining of John and Mary, I knew I needed to act as soon as possible. One of the Cupids is a close friend of mine and we tried to find the best couple. We eventually picked your mother and father especially since your father came from a long line of hunters. It was perfect and I sent the Cupid to go after your mother and father." Ariel explains and (y/n) listens to her, intently.

"But...when the Cupid got to the location where your mother and father were, he saw that they were already talking and were, as you humans say, hitting it off." Ariel said and (y/n) stares at her in shock. "So the plan worked without our interference." Ariel said.

(Y/n) felt like an intense weight was just lifted off of her shoulders. She sighs, beginning to relax a bit but then her mind wandered back to her and Dean.

Dean believe his feelings for her are real and she wishes she could have his confidence. But after learning things about the demons and Heaven, it seems everything in her and the boys’ life was plan out and orchestrated to get them where they are today. She can’t help but have some doubts, even in her own feelings.

(Y/n) let’s out a shaky breath as she looks at Ariel, not wanting to ask this question. But she needs to know, even if the answer she’s afraid of turns out to be true. “Was…was Dean and I set up?” She asked, hesitantly.

Ariel stares at her and (y/n) fidgets a little in her seat as she anxiously awaits for a response. The corners of Ariel’s lips turn upward for a reassuring smile. “You can rest assure, (y/n). The love between you and Dean is pure and as he would say, the real deal.” She said.

(Y/n’s) mouth drops open a little and her eyes light up in relief. “Really?” She asked. “It is best you don’t tell Sam this but...his past relationships with Jessica and Ruby, they were planned. But you and Dean, that wasn’t. Everyone was so focus on trying to pull Sam along to where they wanted him that you two simply slipped under the radar.” Ariel explained.

“So our relationship is one of the few things we have free will over?” (Y/n) asked and Ariel nodded. “Yes, I promise you that.” She replied and (y/n) let's out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Ariel." She said, relieved, and Ariel gives her an assured smile.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

75 notes · View notes

llflorence · 1 month

Text

When you are old - human au, professors, quiet, gentle, romantic

6:42AM

That was what his phone read when the text message came through. It vibrated from under his pillow, and he very nearly dismissed it as an alarm he'd forgotten to disable. It was a holiday, after all.

And then, he remembered.

Are you awake, Angel?

Aziraphale fumbled the phone in his haste to respond. He sat up in bed and the stupid thing tumbled over the edge, landing in the crack between him and the wall. He scrambled to free himself from the tangled bed clothes, reaching down to collect it and only just touching with his fingertips.

"Damn!"

He tried again, exhaling in frustration at how his sizable gut got in the way and straining until he captured the escaped device. He typed a hurried 'yws,' and then a 'yrs,' and then, finally, 'yes.'

The phone rang almost immediately.

"'Lo, 'Ziraphale," that dark chocolate voice, thick with morning sludge, even deeper than normal. "Sleep OK?"

Aziraphale had slept like garbage. "Yes, I did. You?"

"Not a drop. Say? Since it's a holiday and all —" Crowley paused, leaving Aziraphale hanging by a thread. "Maybe we shouldn't go out —"

Disappointment sank heavy in his gut. Crowley didn't want to see him after all.

"— Maybe I should bring the party to you? Cook you breakfast?"

The downward swoop of his stomach immediately changed course, shooting skyward. "Oh! Oh! Yes, that would be lovely!"

Crowley's voice morphed into a smile. "Any requests? Or shall I surprise you?"

Aziraphale's heart was trying to kill him. He couldn't catch his breath. "Surprise me, by all means."

Desperate. It sounded desperate.

"By all means," Crowley repeated. "Fantastic. Gimme an hour, hour and a half?"

It was too long, much too long. "Yes. Yes, fine."

"Great! See you soon!"

Aziraphale didn't even hesitate. "Hurry!"

They disconnected and he tried to get control of his breathing. It had to be the lack of exercise lately; he should probably get back into walking through the park. Even if it was close to zero outside.

Then he remembered he'd gotten plenty of exercise the night before.

Well, then, it was sleep he was lacking. If he didn't put more hours under his belt, his heart was going to give out. Especially if he continued making first moves.

What was wrong with him?

There was a time not long ago when he'd been repulsed by the man. When the Californian's voice grated on frazzled nerves. Where his touch made skin crawl and they'd argued about the Arts and classism. And then there were those infuriating glasses —

Well.

Aziraphale set the phone on the side table and caught sight of his messenger bag, strap mended with the skillful fingers of an artist.

He undressed and made his way to the bathroom.

Under the relentless steaming pressure of his shower, Aziraphale thought about what Anathema had said at Christmas.

"He's in there with the champ of taking it slow."

A week ago, he'd sat in his favorite chair in the library, fantasizing about having Crowley over for dinner. And now?

He wondered when he'd gotten so bold.

Wrapped in a towel, Aziraphale sat on the toilet lid and thought of Crowley's dead mum.

"She'd have liked you."

Aziraphale looked down at the overlapping bulge of his stomach. It hid from his view the disappointment of a penis that had let him down the night prior. Just when he'd gathered enough bravery to kiss the stuffing out of Crowley, the not-so-young piece of equipment inside his trousers had refused to cooperate.

"Traitor," he scolded, smoothing down the wet curls on his chest and trying very hard not to feel sorry for himself. That second kiss had been – well, it had been perfectly exciting, and –

But that wasn't fair. Arousal wasn't stored in the flesh. It was born and raised and set free in the brain. It was Aziraphale who had gotten into his own head and disrupted a process he'd rather enjoyed as a younger man.

(And it wasn't like he had a problem when he was by himself.)

Aziraphale stood in the middle of his bedroom and thought about how Crowley had said he wasn't a morning person. It was 7:05. It cheered him immensely.

He dressed for going out. His usual staying-in attire of threadbare pajama pants that showed his plaid boxers underneath and oversized sleep shirt that similarly showed his nipples was hardly the attire that fit the situation. The goal was to seduce, not to distract.

He made the bed and tidied the bathroom. He descended the stairs and loaded the dishwasher. He began to wipe down the counters and thought about Crowley's blue handkerchief.

"Oh my."

Perhaps Rogering was a possibility.

The doorbell rang at 7:39, and Aziraphale tried to imagine Crowley screaming in ten minutes late for other events. He smiled and opened the door.

It had been less than an hour.

And then, there he was, looking slightly worn out but insanely happy, an overstuffed brown paper bag in each arm. He kicked out of his boots and waited to be asked inside, leaning down to peck the apple of Aziraphale's cheek as he offered to take one of the bags.

"You're sweet," he said, blushing furiously.

"Nah," Crowley argued. He set the second bag on the counter as Aziraphale closed the door. "You've just made me that way."

The man was dressed in what appeared to be gray drawstring joggers with big, fluffy pink socks pulled over the cuffed legs. He wrestled from his overstuffed parka, revealing a black t-shirt with the words Butthole Surfers on the front.

Aziraphale stared open-mouthed, still holding the bag.

"What? They were a crazy band! It was a phase I went through!"

Crowley hefted the bag from him with a wink and set it on the counter to remove the items. Aziraphale watched and felt overdressed.

The man's excitement was off the charts. He bubbled on about how glad he was he'd stopped at the Co-op the day prior and what great selection they had and how he'd purchased a membership and planned to shop there for everything from batteries to bananas to baked beans.

Aziraphale smiled and nodded quietly, watching as the counter filled with a smorgasbord of food items.

"Here," Crowley said, pushing a bottle of champagne into his hand. "Tuck that in the fridge, will you?"

His enthusiasm was contagious.

Aziraphale turned away and thought about returning to his bedroom to change back into his comfies, but Crowley had a surprise for him when he swiveled back.

Long, strong arms slid around his shoulders, pulling him in for the world's most genuine hug. Aziraphale closed his own arms around Crowley's waist, well above that pert, narrow ass, and lifted his chin over the man's shoulder.

"Hi," he said, inhaling deeply and loving the freshly-showered scent of him.

"Hi, back," Crowley answered and hugged him even more tightly.

Several moments passed as they clung to each other, until Crowley swung him around and crowded him against the sink. Aziraphale gasped, unprepared. He'd at least thought they'd make it through breakfast before –

But Crowley merely continued to hug him with one arm. With the other, he began unloading his purchases. "Don't mind me. Just go about your business and pay me no attention."

Aziraphale laughed and a whole lot of tension escaped. He clasped his hands together behind Crowley and took the man's weight; the countertop pushed uncomfortably into his lower back. He didn't care.

"So. I've got bagels and lox," Crowley named everything as he pushed it around on the counter, "and eggs and spinach and muffins and coffee and orange juice – I thought we could make mimosas – and –"

He went on and on and on, and Aziraphale grew even fonder of him.

Eventually Crowley had to give up his arm to be able to prepare omelets, and Aziraphale moved to find him pans, utensils, and bowls. He bent over to collect the hotpads from inside a bottom drawer and caught Crowley staring straight at his backside, eyebrows stitched together in an unreadable expression.

"Right –" Crowley cleared his throat, and Aziraphale's nervousness disappeared and he felt that much more empowered.

They ate right there, standing at the kitchen table, right off the same plate, Crowley forking morsels directly into Aziraphale's mouth. The room felt comfortably warm, and the conversation was intelligently rich. And if Aziraphale didn't know any better, he'd have thought they'd been like this for months.

Crowley measured out orange juice and bubbly when they'd finished and pulled Aziraphale bodily into the library. He set both flutes on the oversized ottoman and gave Aziraphale a gentle push onto the sofa, then sank heavily at his side, leaning forward to retrieve their drinks.

"Ah, I ate too much," Crowley sighed as he crossed one leg over the other. The pink-stockinged foot rested against Aziraphale's shin, rubbing gently back and forth as he slipped an arm over the back of the couch. Aziraphale eased into him, shoulder fitting nicely inside the man's armpit, the perfect height to nudge up under that bony chin.

"Me too," he agreed. "Although it was extremely delicious."

Crowley tilted his head to be able to look down into Aziraphale's eyes. His amber ones were so very attractive. They may have also been – fond? "Mm? You think so?"

Aziraphale nodded swiftly. Enthralled. "You can cook for me any time you like. Make a list, and I'll stock the kitchen with everything you need."

It was meant to make the man smile, to brush his ego, but it did the opposite instead. Crowley's face fell and his gaze flicked away. He sipped from his glass as he stared at the flames inside the fireplace before them.

"N-not that I'm suggesting we don't go out," Aziraphale backtracked, hoping to save the mood. "But this is nice, too. Don't you think?"

Crowley swirled the contents of his glass before taking another sip, swallowing audibly and smacking his lips. He didn't look down when he answered. "Indeed."

They drank their beverages in silence. Aziraphale refused to move away, and Crowley didn't seem bothered either way. He continued to run his toe up and down Aziraphale's leg, almost absentmindedly. And when he had finished his drink, he leaned forward to deposit the empty on the table.

His arm came off the couch.

“Listen. ‘Ziraphale.”

Aziraphale's palate went bone dry. Drier than the exquisitely expensive champagne on his tongue.

"Yes?" It came out with a squeak. A very unsure squeak.

Crowley's mouth had devolved into a very thin line. He twined his fingers together. "I had a nice time last night."

Aziraphale was so very confused. "So did I?" It came out like a question. Why did it have to come out as a question?

But Crowley didn't seem to notice. He stood and turned, calves bumping into the ottoman as he faced Aziraphale.

A hundred things raced through his mind, all of them bad. Aziraphale watched with heart in his throat as Crowley opened his mouth to say one or possibly more of them.

Aziraphale beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, my dear, for being so forward last night."

Crowley finally looked up. "You wot?"

"I-I shouldn't have assumed your intentions were anything but friendly."

The depth of emotion in Crowley's was unfathomable. It hurt to see it.

"I shouldn't have kissed you like that—"

Crowley's mouth opened and closed. The adorable underbite of his jaw flexed, and he made a sound in his throat.

"Ngk."

And then?

And then he was on the sofa. He was on the sofa with a knee on either side of Aziraphale's, and he had Aziraphale's face between his hands, and the drink was spilled on the floor, and the sofa was sliding backward as he pressed their mouths together, and he was kissing him in a way that was in no way 'friendly.'

"Mm?" Aziraphale tried to say as his lips were crushed and his cheeks, caressed. Crowley's thumbs were gently firm, his chin newly shaved. Aziraphale's mind whirled, his stomach boiled. And he did absolutely nothing to stop his shirt from being lifted over his head.

He helped, actually. Got tangled in those talented hands of Crowley's. Felt the brush of long fingers on the sensitive skin over his ribs, heard the excited rush of the man's exhale as he broke the kiss. He found the smooth skin of Crowley's forearm, gripped it tightly and thought it the most erotic thing ever.

"'Ziraphale," Crowley moaned as the shirt dropped over the back of the couch. He was sitting back, staring quite unabashedly at Aziraphale's broad, hairy chest. Cold and exposed, shy now that it had come down to it, Aziraphale closed his eyes so he didn't have to look at himself.

The slightest of warm touches graced his jaw, running delicately down the stretch of his neck. A pause, then further exploration over the curve of his shoulder.

"Gorgeous," Crowley whispered, rapturous. "You're gorgeous."

Something warm pooled in Aziraphale's gut, spreading upward and flushing his skin hot. He was acutely aware of how close they were, now that he knew what Crowley's hands could do.

"Oh, that's — that's —"

Aziraphale didn't know what it was, Crowley's fingers tracing bicep, circling the elbow and pulling his arm away from his body. He opened his eyes, finding Crowley staring at his fingers, holding his wrist very close to warm lips.

Crowley kissed the back of his hand, then turned it palm up and pressed it to his own smooth cheek. The man closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, held it for a long moment, before blowing out and allowing the hand to fall once more.

Crowley's weight rested on Aziraphale's knees, the heat of his backside a fiery flame. His gaze dragged the width of Aziraphale's chest, adoringly, indulgently. He lifted his hand to stroke the point of the other shoulder, pausing at the bulge of the muscle. He exhaled softly; it trembled.

Aziraphale's skin tingled with gooseflesh under Crowley's focused touch, under the hungry stare that lingered over the spanse of his chest. He was being devoured, worshipped. Time had suddenly stopped and it was just the two of them, on the edge of something beautiful.

He was beautiful.

Crowley shifted, then pushed himself to his feet. He leaned forward, reaching out with a hand to each of Aziraphale's knees. With quickened breath, Aziraphale guessed what was wanted, what was needed. And he put up zero resistance as his thighs were pushed apart.

"Oh."

Crowley knelt between them, easing in so that his firm stomach rested tightly against Aziraphale's crotch. The heated gesture most definitely triggered mutual arousal. He found himself rueing the thick fabric of his everyday trousers, wishing for more skin contact while simultaneously wanting to stay just as they were right then.

Hands took his own, twining their fingers together, squeezing and doing mad promising things to Aziraphale's heart. Crowley ran both hands lovingly along forearms, over elbows, biceps, shoulders. He turned his head from side to side, still watching, still worshipping. He didn't say much out loud, but the care he took spoke volumes.

As Crowley rounded the plump curve of Aziraphale's shoulders, his mouth fell open and his eyelids drooped heavily. As if he were drugged, as if he were affected by a substance so pleasant, he may as well be in heaven. His palms flattened and he crossed over collarbones onto the meat of what Aziraphale woefully accepted as breasts. And when Crowley's thumbnails raked punishingly over both peaked nipples, Aziraphale arched his back and clamped his thighs closed, and cried out in a manner unbefitting any decent gentleman.

"Oh, fuck!"

The electricity surging through Aziraphale's body was intense, yearning building much more quickly now. It appeared to be affecting Crowley similarly; he had begun to knead greedy fingers into the sag of Aziraphale's breasts. And then, he stopped.

A whine ripped from Crowley's throat, and he crumpled back on his heels. He fell back against the ottoman, and he rested his cheek on Aziraphale's knee.

"Angel," he said, hoarse and almost ashamed. "There's something I have to tell you."

It was a confession, on his knees like that. Like he was asking for forgiveness for his sins.

Confusion returned like storm clouds. It was clear something tortured Crowley. Whatever it was, it had to be bad. Something that stopped them from continuing onward, from being together.

Aziraphale summoned bravery and reached up to bury his fingers in Crowley's hair. It was soft and fine, the curls fighting against his combing. He didn't know if he could give this up, now that it was so very close.

"Then tell me," he hoarsed right back.

Crowley turned his face against Aziraphale's leg, rubbed his nose back and forth against his trousers. He sighed heavily, then rested his cheek once more. "I bought your book."

Aziraphale blinked. He did what? "You did what?"

Crowley nodded, embarrassed. "I bought your poetry book. Before I came to live here."

It was a puzzled frown that Aziraphale's face made. He didn't understand. "OK?"

His friend – no, his lover – sniffed. "And –" he paused, sighed again. "And I researched you. Found out where you worked. What you taught. Things you'd done."

Something fizzled in the back of Aziraphale's brain. "You – looked me up?"

Again, Crowley nodded against his thigh. "Proper stalker stuff, you know."

Aziraphale thought back to their beginning interactions. Their first outing for drinks. The subsequent lunches and dinners.

"My friend – Shax, we call her – my friend told me about you," he continued, his breath hot on the inner part of Aziraphale's other leg. "She said – she said you were just my type. So I bought the book, and I creeped on your privacy. And I'll completely understand if you never want to see me again."

A light bulb went on, glaringly bright, sparkling clear. Crowley thought, because his friend had suggested they might get along, that he was doing something untoward by pursuing him. His conscience had gotten to him, and he'd confessed to something he thought Aziraphale would be offended by. And he thought that would be the end of 'them.'

But there was more. Crowley had sacrificed his life in California to move to this town. He'd taken a chance, jumped off the dock without knowing how to swim. He had no idea what waited for him when he arrived. But he'd done it anyway, knowing full well he might fail. Aziraphale's heart did a strange dance in his chest.

Aziraphale dug his fingers deep into Crowley's scalp, tugging with so much fondness that it could hardly be contained. This man – this wonderfully stupid man – had given up everything for the chance he might find a compatible partner. And that right there was simply wonderful.

"Look at me," Aziraphale whispered, slipping his hand to the base of Crowley's neck.

He did, if cautiously, as if fully expecting rejection. Those striking eyes looked up at him with such hope that it hurt. And who was Aziraphale to grant anything but forgiveness?

Aziraphale smiled as softly as he could muster. He moistened his lips and made a decision. "Your friend was right. It appears I am just your type. Now, how about we abandon the sofa for something a little softer?"

Read on AO3

#ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #human au #LLflorence

20 notes · View notes

deepperplexity · 5 months

Text

Prompt: 6. Out Of Care [C2]

Pairing: Turpin x fem!Reader

POV: Second, Reader & Third, Turpin

Setting: Turpin’s house

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Sharing

A/N: And we're back to our dear Judge Turpin this Wednesday! 😍👏 I'm honestly super excited about this story and feel my creativity brewing and bubbling like crazy this December - all the stories have me aching to write more 😂👏

Anyway, I'm hoping you're all in good spirits, that December is treating you nicely (kicking it in the tush if not) and that you're feeling ready for more Rickman content! 🥰❤ (Reminder, the Turpin serial for Rickmas2023 will get darker before we get the HEA)

Tags/TW’s: Regrett, Worry, Wanting Forgiveness, Reunion, Returning Home, Half-Admitting Feelings [Love, Fear, Hurt, Want], Changing For Another, Admitting To Wrongfulness/Selfishness, Pillow Hugging, Slightly Smutty Thoughts

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 3.1k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

⩤• You •⩥

The echo of the door slamming shut, the memory of stumbling down the stairs, it was all so fresh in your mind. It nearly felt as if it had just happened, a mere second ago, yet it had been two days. Your husband had been gone for two days, after a fight you had never imagined ever having. His words, those cold accusatory truths, made you shiver. The remnants of the revelation of how selfish you had been, how single-mindedly you had been viewing Christmas, and the whole thought process behind decorating your home for the holiday.

You shivered and glared at the overly decorated tree, it ought to have caught fire with the intensity of your eyes — it did not, of course, burst into flames. “I did warn you, me Lady,” said Miss Lowel as she sat a tray of tea down on the table in the drawing room. “His Lordship does not take the holidays lightly, me Lady.” “You don’t say…” you murmured with a snark in your voice. “Could have been worse, me Lady. Could have put you out.” “Instead he abandoned our home. Me.” “Me Lady?” You looked toward her. “Does the lady… Do me Lady fancy his Lordship?” she asked timidly, her hands held tightly before her while a look of trepidation and something close to disgust flitted across her sweet features.

You sighed, averting your gaze to the hearth and the glowing embers within it. Is there a point in denying it any longer? If I didn’t, I wouldn’t feel so… sad… “Yes, Miss Lowel. I-, I do,” you said quietly. “I think… I think perhaps I may have come to like the man, a bit.” A lot… Miss Lowel smiled, but it was a forced sort of thing. “I see, me Lady.” “Not that it matters, the man could never feel a thing for me, I’m not sure he’s capable of feelings of a positive nature.” “Oh, I don’t know about that, me Lady. His Lordship is quite… different with you.” “Ha, funny, Miss Lowel, very funny,” you said dryly, reaching for the teacup. “He barely speaks a word to me, at dinner he does not so much as hold half a conversation with me, he always storms off to his study, to the court, away from me.” “His Lordship eats dinner at home, he quietly watches you speak, he offers space and no forced proximity, apart from insisting on sharing a bed but, if I may be so bold, I dare say there’s been no coercion inside the bedroom, me Lady?”

Your eyes bulged at her brazen words and forward manner. She spoke the truth though. So you nodded. “I dare say that is quite the change from the man I have served these past four years, me Lady.” “How so?” you asked while sipping your tea, endeavouring to not appear too hungry for information about the man who grasped your heart tighter with each passing day.

“Neither of the things I just mentioned would have been connected to His Lordship before your arrival miss. I do not think I’ve once served him dinner at home before ten in the evening before your arrival, me Lady, and even those times were rarities. This was not a place he remained for more time than necessary. And conversation within this house, no, that was not a possibility, yet you are given time to speak, not simply to reply to commands. Me Lord even listens, that is quite something, me Lady.”

You looked at her, wondering if she’d lost her mind — had too much eggnog perhaps? “That’s silly, Miss Lowel.” “Silly? His Lordship has changed with your arrival.” “I highly doubt it has anything to do with me, the man is brutal and cold. Unfeeling. I will not even attempt to pretend to possess any value for him beyond being his wife as the daughter of an upstanding and wealthy family. He seems to be a man completely out of care for anyone and anything, I am no different to him than any other person.” Miss Lowel bowed her head with a straight face. “If you say so, me Lady. I do not possess the frankness to contradict your words.” The maid left the room while your thoughts whispered, you just did.

***

The last piece of Christmas decore landed in the sack by your feet. The house was restored to its less festive state after a couple of hours of your hard work. It had taken longer to put it all up than take it down, down was easy, especially with a simmer of anger and hurt in your muscles which had forced you to move faster.

You wouldn’t admit to it, but you hoped he’d return and you’d be forgiven for what you’d unwittingly done. Your intentions had been good, but Richard’s view of it all had changed your perspective of your actions. He hadn’t been wrong, you hadn’t talked with him, asked him, or even thought of taking his input on decorating the house. But, how could you have known the man didn’t like Christmas?

He may hold no care for me, or anyone else in the world, but I can still care for him. Can I not? I can still change and do things out of care for him even if it’s not reciprocated. But you knew it would be a difficult task, loving and caring for someone who housed none of that love or care in return, but you were a stubborn person. Once you set your mind to something you refuse to back down or give up until you have enough evidence to show something was an impossibility. Perhaps that was why you had been used by people you believed to be your friends, even family, before?

You had dragged the sack back to the attic, locking the door again before heading toward the drawing room where you plopped down in a graceless heap on the sofa. Miss Lowel had stoked the fire recently it seemed so you soaked up the warmth by pointing your feet toward the hearth, watching the flames dance while your heart turned heavier.

You had no idea where Richard had gone, he had said he would not return until after Christmas to give you your holiday cheer but you had never felt as dreary or sad in December before. Especially now, with no holiday cheer to be found in your home. It felt utterly wrong, but the way Richard had reacted and how he had felt when seeing all the decorations you’d spent the entire day putting up had been worse. That you’d hurt him made you feel beyond heavy, no matter if it was on purpose or not. He’d been hurt, and you had for the first time gotten to hear of his emotions — how he saw it all.

“Sharing, as in taking the liberty to completely alter my one sanctuary without so much as a word with me beforehand? Sharing seems to be all, about, you,” he had seethed two days ago, for the first time truly sharing how he felt and it had hurt you deeply. Admittedly, in the moment, you had felt hurt yourself by his words but now, with some time to think of it all and look at it from his viewpoint, you felt horrible at having caused him harm.

What did he mean by his sanctuary? You didn’t quite understand that, he didn’t act as if his home was a sanctuary. Did he mean from the holiday? I mean, all of London is filled with Christmas cheer — carols, decorations, happier people, all the markets and — Your mind turned quiet as you understood what he’d meant.

Christmas was inescapable. One foot out the door and there was a carol floating on the wind, the smell of roasted chestnuts, someone ringing a bell for donations to the poor during the time a year of giving and gifting. The holiday was tangible everywhere, oppressively so if one disliked it… To give up the holiday wasn’t a possibility for you, though. You’d celebrate, but perhaps you didn’t need to do so in a way that reached or imposed itself on your husband — after all, Christmas wasn’t actually about the decorations, the songs, the food, or even the gifts. No, it was about a feeling, a sense of hope and joy, a warmth on the inside rather than sparkling surroundings.

You stood up, patting down your dress. “I can do that. But, how do I tell him I took it all down?” You nibbled your bottom lip, wondering if your husband was at court perhaps — it was Wednesday after all. “Should I even bother him? Can I go to him?” His angry features, his cold eyes, the harsh tone of his voice — it all told you you couldn’t. Richard was a man who made his own choices, took his own decisions, and as far as you knew he never went back on his word.

He had declared he’d be back after Christmas, perhaps all you had to do was wait for time to pass, respecting his choice? You’d already overstepped so greatly it felt as if seeking him out would only enrage him, perhaps forever close off the slightest possibility he’d ever grow close to you as you had grown to truly like him. You dared not think the feelings you had for the man were even deeper than that; if you admitted to it things would become far too hard to endure. You had had hope the feelings were mutual, the difference between the man you had heard of before wedding him and the man he was around you were far different from each other.

You sighed and looked at the clock, it struck eleven and it was time to sleep. You moved through the silent house, halting by the guest room, a sense of lacking enveloped you as your fingers lingered on the knob. You glanced down the hall, toward the door leading into your shared bedroom. You missed him. Missed sleeping next to him, and as Miss Lowel had pointed out there had never been anything more than sleep happening in there since you moved in. He’d never forced you, never asked you, never even so much as changed in the same room. He’d respected you, and your privacy, only sharing a bed through sleep. Why it was like that you didn’t quite know, your husband had been known to take whores before your wedding but not once had you noticed such a thing happening after you became his wife.

Your face mushed against his pillow a few minutes later. You inhaled his distinct scent, a shiver slid down your back before you squeezed the feather-filled thing. You curled up in a ball for a moment under his cover, thinner than yours but comforting despite not fully keeping you warm. “I miss you,” you whispered and inhaled deeply, feeling yourself go heavy by the comfort of his scent.

⩤• Turpin •⩥

The wind tugged at the ends of his hair peeking out beneath his top hat. The house lay nearly dark, save for one single candle in the window of his bedroom. The bedroom he shared with you. There were differences to when he had stormed out of the house though. The curtains were changed back to their ordinary ones, there were no longer any decorations in the windows from what he could tell, empty as usual.

The cold had begun to slip inside his clothes, yet he remained on the sidewalk across the road — watching his house in a tense silence. For two days he had stewed over his reaction, his behaviour towards you when you had so obnoxiously obviously been exuberantly happy about decorating the house for Christmas. Everywhere his eyes had gone there had been reminders. Old decorations, from his time as a boy when joy was as far from Christmas as one could get despite the house being abysmally drenched in beautiful decorations looking to spark a sense of awe. All it ever meant for him were dread, loneliness, and pretending.

His family, rich and well-off as it was, had no real riches beyond money and status. His mother was a shell of a human, his father a devil of cruelty, his brother a demon of wickedness, and his sister… dead. The one who had been a joy, had died far too young, and what little love there had been in the mansion of a house went with her.

He shrugged, flexing his fingers within the leather gloves to bring some blood and warmth back to the tips. His eyes remained fixed on the dreary-looking house, darker than others along the street with not so much as a glimmer of a sparkle or flicker of an ornate lantern anywhere to be found. It had his jaw clenching as he thought of the sparkle that had been in your eyes before he’d snuffed it out with words of cruelty. Honest words, yet cruel in their harsh nature.

His spine stiffened as the curtain flickered in the bedroom. Mrs Lowel appeared, blowing out the candle, and given her timid motions he guessed you lay fast asleep in the bed he usually shared with you. Our bed, our home, my wife… My sweet wife… He drew a deep breath and marched towards the door on stiff legs while his mind ran rampant — wondering if you could forgive his outburst and rage, his words and behaviour. You were a joy in his dark life, and as he opened the door that very darkness seemed to glare at him.

All your work, all your thoughts, all your sparkling wonder; all of it was gone. He found not a single shred of tinsel, not even a lonesome garland remained as he removed his cloak and snow-covered boots, stepping into a pair of slippers while looking all around him at the utter lack of Christmas. That you listened and possibly respected him enough to remove it all made a warmth bloom in the pit of his stomach where a knot had formed over the whole situation. I usually do not care. I am not a caring man. I am not a man who cares for others’ emotions, yet, I find myself caring for yours most deeply. Disturbing business.

He moved up the stairs, his steps heavy yet quiet. His heart beat harder for each stride while his hand glided along the railing — partly for support as he felt himself waver at the possibility you may not be able to forgive him. Or, worse, you would possibly only do so with an explanation, a tale of his past he never wished to divulge.

He quietly opened the door, his body tense and his face set in a stoic mask as he struggled for the control he nearly always held a firm grasp of. When his eyes landed on your sleeping form, curled up on his side of the bed with his pillow held in a vice grip against your chest half buried under his cover, his heart stuttered and his body stiffened.

You were beautiful, angelic in your sleep, and he had to resist the urge exploding within his body as it had done every day since you became his wife. He yearned to touch each part of you, kiss each sliver of skin, caress each dip and mound, and explore every aspect of your body in its entirety. Months upon months had passed since he last took pleasure from another body. Ever since he vowed before God and congregation, before you, to be your faithful husband he had not touched or even looked at another woman. You were the only one for him, yet your innocence had proven a difficult thing to conquer. His own sins were like long shadows keeping him away, forcing him to wait for you to come to him willingly. He had tried, by God and Heaven, he had tried to be kind and caring, thoughtful and patient, yet you had not come to him still.

He stepped up to the bed, his eyes roaming your outline, and reached out his still-cold hand. His fingers graced your cheek, stroking away a tendril of hair so utterly soft to the touch he twirled it once between his fingers before letting go. “Sweet wife,” he whispered and just barely stopped himself from leaning in to kiss you. You stirred at his deep voice. “Richard?” you asked, your eyes blinking away the haze of sleep while he stood over you with nothing but his willpower to respect and be kind towards you keeping him in place while he watched your eyes clear — sleepy, to happy, to sad. It tore at his heart that your eyes no longer sparkled like last time he had come home.

“I took it down,” you whispered, your voice a meek sound. “I saw.” “Will you stay now?” He blinked at that, his brain addled with worry and an uncomfortable amount of desperation to hold you close. He was far too enchanted, in far too deep when it came to you. Not that he could verbally admit that. “I will,” he said, his voice a quiet drone while he attempted to keep himself in control. “Will you—” “I’ll move,” you said before he could ask for your forgiveness, and you shimmied out from his cover while laying his pillow in its proper place before situating yourself on your side of the bed. Not once did you expose any part of your nightdress-clad body — to his utter dismay and relief at the same time.

“I won’t look,” you whispered while turning around to face the window, giving him your back. He wished to turn you over again, make you watch him undress, make you see what you always did to his anatomy. But he did not. He watched the back of your head with growing agony and want, with a wish for forgiveness he could not quite bring himself to ask for now that his body burned with lust despite the cold sadness you emitted. I am a lesser man, thinking of ravaging you at a time like this. I will not yield to it, love. I vowed to myself you would be the one to come to me. If I so perish without ever having felt your warmth, it shall be so.

He slipped on his nightshirt and slunk in under the cover, keeping space between you both. The warmth you left behind, the wonderful scent now embedded on his side of the bed, made his entire body turn rigid. You were perfection, and now he may have ruined whatever chance he had so painstakingly long worked to gain. He drew a deep breath, your warmth and closeness offering relief of the acutest kind, and fell asleep in a matter of seconds. Too drained to remain in the moment, too comforted by your closeness to resist the relaxation. The knot in his stomach was ignored for the moment as dreams slipped in with nothing but you in them.

…To Be Continued…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Uffh, these two have me in such a grip - and their story isn't quite at the HEA yet 👀 I'm kinda itching to make Y/n a bit more fierce, after all, her emotions are running rampant and Richard isn't really in control of his emotional state either - they have a lot to figure out between themselves and perhaps we ought to throw in another curveball or two to really make them argue (or perhaps bang) it out? 🤔🤭❤

Q: Do you have any tradition of your own around this time of year that you always keep? A: I have a few, one of my longest-running ones is being the one to put up and decorate the Christmas tree (the first weekend of December since I moved out of my childhood home). I've been in charge of doing the tree since I was a teenager and I've always loved it 🥰🎄✨

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87

@elizabeth-baelish @severuslovebot @leah1243 @thethotthatbreathes @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @commodoreseverus @reinekefoxart @lght-n-drk @cathym1102 @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @a-queen-and-her-throne @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

#rickmas2023 #judge turpin #turpin x reader #judge turpin fanfic #alan rickman #rickmaniac #rickmas

50 notes · View notes

squishybin · 1 year

Text

TXT AS DADS

How I envision TXT as fathers.

YEONJUN

Yeonjun def is the flashy type of dad.

Would show up in expensive ass attire to his kid's parent-teacher conference.

Every teacher and parent has a big fat crush on him.

His children's friends would literally IDOLIZE him for how cool he looked.

100% would buy flashy clothes for his kids.

He would be in charge of dressing them up

Would buy all the versions of 'Just Dance' and gift it to his kids for Christmas.

Would 100% be more excited about playing it than his own kids are.

He would for sure blast music while making dinner.

Teach his kids how to rap and dance.

Would write a whole rap about you for mothers days and make his kid sing it while he does the background vocals lol.

SOOBIN

He would probably be the type to film and document EVERYTHING his kid does. (their first step, the first day of kindergarten, etc.)

Would lowkey be so overprotective of his child.

"No, you're too young"

"Dad I'm literally 16 years old."

Would probably read his kid's bedtime stories and not stop until they are at least 18 years old.

His rule is, ALWAYS TUCK HIS KIDS TO SLEEP and never miss a day.

He would also be so excited when a day like "take your kid to work day" happens.

He just wants his kids to be so proud of their dad and who he is.

He would honestly be the type to introduce his kid to each and everyone he knows, and praise his kid even when he does the bare minimum like idk, shaking hands with someone?

He would be so open about "awkward" conversations with his children and even prompt them to feel comfortable talking about said topics. (sexual orientation, sex, mental issues, body dysmorphia, etc.)

He would support his kids NO MATTER WHAT.

Oh, you went to jail? He would likely scold the fuck out of you but nonetheless help bail you out.

BEOMGYU

Beomgyu for sure would teach his kids (especially his son) how to make a girl/boy swoon.

It would be the worst mistake to send Beomgyu and your kids to the grocery store together.

They would completely disregard the list you made and would come out with bags of candy and toys.

Has a hard time saying no to his kids, and he admits to it.

Family game nights are a MUST in his household and it always ends up with him and one of your kids fighting over who won.

He would 100% teach his child how to play the guitar.

His children would have amazing music taste by default due to his impeccable taste in music.

Whenever ya'll go to the mall he always takes his children to the arcade.

He would for sure be more immersed in winning than his own kids are.

You would have to literally DRAG HIM OUT of the arcade because he's just too stubborn but ends up winning a giant teddy bear so it's okay ig.

Beomgyu would probably be the type to fall asleep while trying to put his own kid to bed.

Poor baby is exhausted and couldn't help but fall right asleep once he sat on the rocking chair :(

TAEHYUN

Taehyun would for sure be the type to help his child with homework or help them study for a quiz.

His patience level is out of this world.

He has such a soft spot for his kids so if his kid asks him for something he just HAS to get it.

Loves telling them that they look beautiful like their mother.

He'd honestly be the calm type of scolder, he wouldn't yell or make a big fuss, but will make sure his kids know what they did was wrong.

Finds it absolutely ADORABLE when his children ask for him or want to be around him.

100% would shed tears during fathers day because seeing his little children saying they love and appreciate him makes his heart melt.

He would be such a good person to talk to, so naturally, his kids feel extremely comfortable talking to him about anything.

He would for sure be the type to swing and throw his child in the air. (yk when dads do the little throw and catch, yeah well that.)

Taehyun would probably not know what to do when his daughter has her first boyfriend, he wouldn't be overprotective, but if someone hurts his precious daughter's heart, he will make sure the person responsible never sees the light of day again.

HUENING KAI

Kai would be the mushiest, cutest little baby when it came to his kids.

He's just so soft around his kids that it makes your heart melt.

He would be the best dad in the world, I literally cannot.

He would be SO DEDICATED to decorate his child's room with a shit ton of plushies and blankets.

You would sometimes find him and your kid fighting over who gets to sleep with the stuffed animal.

Kai would definitely yell something like "CHILDREN REMEMBER DADDY LOVES YOU ALL SO MUCH, HAVE A NICE DAY!!!" while dropping his kids off at school.

He would get so shy when his kids say they love him.

Lowkey cannot say no to his kids, if his kids want to eat ice cream for breakfast they get ice cream for breakfast.

Sometimes you scold him for doing everything their kids want but he can't help it, he just wants to make his kids happy.

Tries to be more strict but fails immediately when his kids start crying.

Def would be the type to take his kids to Disney World every summer or some shit like that.

Overall the softest dad in the whole entire universe.

#txt #tomorrow x together #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #txt fluff #soobin #yeonjun #beomgyu #taehyun #hueningkai

153 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

for the fluffy winter request, how about ice skating with steve💕💕❤️

AN | No, but please this is such a soft and sweet idea 🥺

Warnings | Mild Language

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 1.8k

Masterlist | Steve, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You couldn’t help but smile at the handsome man across the table from you. The corners of his mouth were ticked up into a small smile, his cheeks a fresh pink from the wind chill, and his ochre eyes were glittering. It was easy to fall in love with him over and over again; and you did, bit by bit and day by day. He wasn’t just any man; he was Steve Harrington. He was your boyfriend and the love of your life.

“What’re you looking at, pretty girl?” he asked softly, nudging your foot under the table. Your face warmed under his tender gaze and you couldn’t help but smile at him, reaching across the table and putting your hand on top of his. You were having dinner at a quaint little restaurant, peaceful in the cold winter evening, “hmm?”

“Just admiring you,” you leaned forward and gave him a sweet little smile, “I love you, you know?”

“I know,” his cheeks flushed a darker shade of pink, “I love you, angel.”

“How could I not know?” you squeezed his hand gently, “you show it with everything you do and say.”

“Flatterer,” he couldn’t help but positively beam as he looked down at his plate. Before you could say anything else, he looked back at you with excitement, “I have an idea!”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Well, there is that holiday market on the town square and that little ice skating rink,” he grinned happily as you nodded, “I thought maybe we could go and check it out and maybe go ice skating. Whaddya say?”

“Really?” your eyes lit up as you almost squealed with delight. He nodded and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning across the table and pressing a kiss to his lips, “I’d love to, Steve. This is going to be so much fun!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were walking, gloved hand in gloved hand with Steve, taking in all the sights and sounds from the bazaar. You took in all the sights, sounds, and smells, your heart growing even more full and warm than it before. This was everything you could have ever dreamed of.

You explored a few little stalls, making mental notes of the things that Steve liked and things you thought your friends would like in order to come back and buy them when you were alone. The whole place was magical, glittering snow falling softly and slowly, making everything look like a winter wonderland.

At one of the stalls, you’d found a small shop that sold desserts and sweets, and you both got a hot chocolate to make the evening just that much better. You’d always made fun of those cheesy holiday and romance films, but that evening had you feeling like you lived in one. And you wouldn’t have changed a thing.

You were gently swinging your clasped hands as you approached the skating rink. Steve looked both excited and terrified as he studied the various people on the ice; kids, adults, couples, and everything in between. You gently tugged on his hand and he turned his attention back to you.

“Are you alright, Stevie?” your voice was soft as you looked into his warm ochre eyes, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want.”

“I want to,” he insisted, not wanting you to get the wrong idea, “I just haven’t gone since I was a kid, so I don’t know how good I’ll be.”

“It’ll be okay,” you leaned up and kissed his cheek, “we’ll take it slow. And if you want to stop, we can stop. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded as you played with the ends of his thick, soft scarf, “let’s do it.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you’d gotten your skates on, Steve was still struggling so you’d helped him lace his skates up and then hoisted him to his feet. You were grinning the whole time as you took his hand and slowly led him onto the ice. The rink was illuminated with twinkling lights, and surrounded by different themed Christmas trees along the sides. Christmas music was playing softly, muted by the excited voices from all the skaters.

“Ready?” you asked and he nodded, eagerly taking your outstretched hand as you stepped onto the ice. You took a second to get yourself oriented, feeling Steve struggling and tugging on your arm slightly. You held his hand in a tight embrace before slowly pushing off and starting to skate around. You made sure to stick to the side, so he could easily grab the railing if he felt the need to, “don’t worry, my love, I won’t let you fall.”

“If I do, I’m afraid I’m going to be taking you down with me,” his expression was sheepish; you knew he was trying to be as careful as possible and didn’t want anything to happen to you on purpose or accidentally, “I’ll be careful.”

“I know you will,” you said softly, “just hold my hand and relax. The rest will come naturally.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” he pouted lightly, his pretty plush lips looking more kissable than they had any right to, “you’ve got grace and elegance…I’m like…”

“A ninja,” you teased softly, reminding him of the claim he had often made, “stealthy like a ninja, which means you’ll be great at this!”

“Mhmm,” he bit his lip as he wobbled slightly but caught himself, “I’ll keep reminding myself of that.”

“And if you won’t, then I will!” you started to skate a little faster, going at a pace that was comfortable for both of you, laughing softly.

Turns out, while Steve might not have been as lithe and graceful as you, he was a decent skater after all. Once he found his rhythm, it was easy for him to skate along with you. The two of you were laughing and having a great time, and a part of you wished you had a camera with you to be able to capture this moment forever. Instead, you dropped his hand and skated in front of him. He looked at you in confusion, but you silently answered his question, by holding up your hands and making them into a camera snap. You pretended to snap a picture which just made him giggle happily.

“What’re you doing?” His voice was so soft and gentle that it made your knees weak, “silly girl.”

“Taking a mental snapshot,” you explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “wanting to capture this moment forever.”

He mimicked your gesture and you pretended to pose as he made the clicking sound of the camera, “there! One for my collection too.”

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, eyes wide and in awe of him, “you’re the best, Steve Harrington.”

“Shh,” he put a gentle finger to your lips and shook his head, “that would be you. Now come on, I’m starting to get the hang of this!”

He took your hand back and lace his wool covered fingers through yours as best as he could and took the lead.

And it was all fun and games…until your skate caught on some invisible nick in the ice and you started to lose your balance. Your natural instinct was to hang onto water you could in order to steady yourself. That just so happened to be Steve’s arm.

You fell to the ice, taking him down with you, managing to land on top of him in a small heap. Upon a quick inspection you saw that neither of you were hurt, and you couldn’t help but laugh - Steve had been so worried about taking you down, when it ended up being him instead.

Steve grinned at you, on his back on the ice, his hands settled on your waist to make sure you wouldn’t slide off. There were times like this when you still couldn’t believe how beautiful he was. He must have been thinking something along the same lines because he looked up at you with a soft expression on his face before he opened his pretty mouth to speak, “I’m gonna marry you one day, you know?”

“Steve,” your entire face warmed up and you couldn’t help but try to hide your face in your hands. But he refused to let you do so, wrapping long, elegant fingers around your wrists and pulling your hands away.

“I mean it, angel,” he insisted and you knew that he was speaking nothing but the truth. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth but nodded. The idea that Steve Harrington wanted to make you his wife sent a whole different feeling down your spin, “just want and see.”

“I can’t wait,” you whispered softly, blinking back the tears that had already started to well up, “I wanna marry you too.”

“Fuck,” he groaned happily, “I’d marry you right this moment if I could - but I’m going to do this right. The ring, the proposal, all of it.”

“Stevie, I would be happy with nothing at all,” you insisted softly, “I don’t need anything fancy or expensive. I just want you, that’s everything I need.”

“Still-”

“Are you guys gonna move or what?” you looked up to find a young girl, clearly annoyed, moving to skate around you. Somehow in the ensuing conversation that had occurred, you’d both completely forgotten that you were still on the ice, in the middle of the rink.

“Sorry,” you gave her a pathetic little smile as you tried to get back to your feet, looking more like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time more than anything else. Once you made it to your feet, you held out your hands to help him to his feet. Once he was up, he slid towards you, but instead of knocking you back over, he wrapped his arms tightly around you. You pulled back and looked up at him, “hi.”

“Hi,” he whispered just loud enough for you to hear, “you’re really pretty.”

“So are you,” you brushed a few stray locks of hair out of his face, “not to complain but it’s starting to get really cold. Maybe we could go home and start a fire and get all comfy and warm?”

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed, putting a hand on the side of your face, “one more thing first.”

And then he kissed you. Softly, sweetly, and with every ounce of love that he possessed in his body.

“You are everything to me, Steve Harrington.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #joe keery #joe keery x you #joe keery x reader #st

301 notes · View notes

hopefulromances · 10 months

Note

one is on the other's lap, holding their face between their hands, kissing them and instantly forgetting everything else in the room with them + the espectacular sam obisanya and f reader pleaseeeee 😭🩷😭 I can't get enough of your writing

You were nervous. Sam was taking you to his team's annual Christmas party at a collegues house and everyone would be there. You loved Sam, you really did, but this was like jumping into the deep end of meeting friends.

Sam was walking a bit in front of you, his hand in yours leading you, telling your the names of all the people coming and a little bit about them.

So far you had Isaac, who was the team captain and acted tougher than he was, Richard, who would most definietly be bringing someone but would also try and flirt with you at the same time, Jan Maas, who came off blunt but meant the best, and Bumbercatch, who was convinced Christmas was just a corporate holiday made up by capitalists as a way to exploit people.

As you approached the house you found yourself overwhlemed by you nerves and stopping. Sam tugged slightly but then looked back and eralized you had stopped.

"(Y/N), do not worry," He reassured you, ducking his head to look you in the eye. "They are going to love you."

"But what if I say something wrong or, or, or, I'm not cool enough or whatever," you rambled, your eyes darting back and forth between his.

"I promise you that you are 100% cooler than anyone you'll see in there." Sam took you by your forehead and kissed you softly. "You're going to be great."

You smiled gratefully at him and squeezed his hand to let him know you were ready. It turned out, you fit right in with his friends. They all flocked to you immeditaly as you walked in, making sure to let you know that Sam talked about you all the time and that he was totally whipped for you.

At some point you'd gotten pulled aside by the host's, Leslie Higgins's, wife and she was talking to you about your home and family. You answered her questions graciously but kept looking over at Sam talking and laughing with his friends.

Finally, you had to excuse yourself to go talk to him. Sam saw you on approach and uncrossed his legs to make room for you to sit. You sat down so you were sideways on his lap, arms around his neck.

"So, how are you doing?" He checked, rubbing his hand up and down your leg.

You nodded at him, feeling quite content in his lap. "Good, your friends are all so kind."

You looked around at the group. Practically the whole team was there, all excited to be around each other and share in the many holidays they were all celebrating. It was so heartwarming to know how close the team was.

"They're a good guys," Sam agreed, following your gaze. "Even if they can be a little crazy from time to time."

His gaze lands on Isaac stacking empty beer cans as Richard is talking adamently to Jan Maas about something in french. You giggled as you looked at them. Sam gently brough his hand to your jaw, turning you back to face him.

"But I'm just glad that you are here," he murmured.

You smiled and brought your hands up to cup his face just as delicatly as he was holding yours. Then you kissed him and everyone else in the room vanished. It was just you and him. Forget angry frenchmen, forget the children running around playing with nerf guns, forget beer cans. Just you and Sam.

That was until you were being shot at by said nerf guns.

"No being gross at the dinner table!" One of the younger boys shouted, pointing their nerf gun at you.

"Hey! That's my girlfriend you're talking to!" He moved you off his lap gently and got up to start chasing them. You laughed, watching him run around the table.

#sam obisanya reader insert #sam obisanya x you #sam obisanya x y/n #sam obisanya x reader #sam obisanya #ted lasso #ted lasso show

103 notes · View notes

lou-struck · 1 year

Text

Taste of Home

Shinsuke Kita X reader

Day 19: Taste of Home

25 Days of Ficmas Masterlist

~ You try your hand at making one of Shinsuke’s grandmother's recipes

Although he wouldn't admit it, something has been off about Shinsuke lately.

The holidays have come and gone leaving the two of you a bit tired from the hustle and bustle. While it was fun getting to see your friends and loved ones, sharing gifts, and eating delicious food, someone important was missing from the fun.

Yumie, his grandmother was unable to come to his family's Christmas Dinner after catching a little cold. Although it was nothing serious it was enough to keep the sweet older woman away from the festivities.

Your Boyfriend is very much a grandma’s boy and was crushed by the news. If it weren't for his grandmother’s fragile condition, the two of you would've dropped everything to spend the holidays with her. But neither of you wanted to make things any worse for the number one fan of your relationship.

Christmas dinner was missing more than Yumie’s sweet smile and familiar stories, one thing that noticeably lacking from the tabletop was her delicious cooking.

With the holidays over and Yumie still not well enough to be receiving guests, you decide to take it upon yourself to give your Fiance a little taste of home.

With Kita off making a last-minute rice delivery to Onigiri Miya, you knew you had the perfect window of opportunity to put your plan into action.

Weeks ago when you called Yumie to ask for one of Shinsuke's favorite recipes of hers, she took it upon herself to pen it down in her own hand on a notecard and express mail it to you.

“When you asked why she would go through the trouble of writing it down she chuckled.

“So you’ll always have it,” she said on the phone.

When you look at the carefully penned recipe in your hands it's hard to not feel a bit emotional, Yumie is a kind woman, but she keeps her prized recipes close to her chest. The fact that she gave you one so freely is enough to make your eyes water. You swore then and there that you would go above and beyond in making the dish.

Although the recipe is fairly simple, it took you hours to shop for all the ingredients ensuring that each and every scrap of food you used was of the highest quality because your partner is worth every minute of effort.

With all of the ingredients washed and displayed in front of you, you begin to prep the food. Peeling the carrots, and radishes and chopping the onions into small strips until your eyes begin to water. Blinking away the hot onion tears you turn your attention to the Loin you got from a small butcher's shop. Carving it into small strips and letting it marinate in a bath of seasonings.

When you are so focused on following the steps in front of you, hours seem to pass like minutes.

Just as you remove the finished product from the heat source you see the headlights of Kita’s truck pull down your long driveway. An excited squeak escapes your lips and you hurry to put the finishing touches on your surprise. He comes through the door just as you place his portion at the table dressing it with some chopped scallions just like how Yumie instructed you to do so.

His cheeks are pink from the cold and a few snowflakes rest lightly on his shoulder, you were so focussed on the task of hand you didn't even realize that it started snowing outside. He gently removes his boots and jacket placing them in their proper spot before glancing up at you with a relieved smile “y/n, I didn't realize you’d be home,” he says wrapping his arms around you. The cold on his skin melted away under your touch.

“I had an off day,” you smile as he warms up a bit. It's then he takes a deep breath in and his head pricks up. “Is something wrong?” you ask innocently.

“It’s nothing.” he says shaking his head, “Something just smells wonderful.”

“I did just make some dinner,” you say gingerly taking his hand and leading him toward the kitchen table where his surprise awaits.

“You’re too sweet on me,” he says following eagerly behind you towards the mouth-watering smell.

The table couldn't look any more perfect. The stew you made still steams lightly in the colorful bowl from whence it sits and the candles you just lit burn brightly. When your boyfriend looks down at the all-too-familiar dish he stops in his tracks.

“Is this what is think it is?” he says quietly dropping his hand and sitting down at the table.

“Maybe,” you humm taking a seat across from him. “Does it look familiar?”

“Extremely,” he says lifting his spoon and placing it lightly in the broth. “May I try it?”

It’s then you realize you forgot to taste test the food before serving it. A feeling of panic hits you as you nod slightly. As all sorts of questions run through your poor brain.

What if you missed a step?

What if it’s bad?

What if it’s terrible?

Kita sips the broth before you have time to object. His face is unreadable as he swallows the stew. He just clenches the cutlery tighter and stares down at the dish.

“Shin,” you call from across the table but the words don't seem to reach him. Unable to take not knowing if your cooking tasted edible any longer, you take your spoon and try the broth.

Tasting it you brace for the feeling of a mistake on your tongue, but it doesn't ever come. The broth tastes…good.

It doesn't taste like you made it at all, it's warm and comforting in the way only a grandmother's cooking can be.

Looking back across the table you see that Shinskue’s gaze is now locked firmly on you. “Did you make this?” he says with a shaky breath. His eyes turn glassy as he waits for your response. “It tastes like my grandmother's recipe.”

“I did…” you say “I asked her for the recipe and she sent it over.”

"I-i can't believe how similar it tastes," he says taking another sip. "She has never given out one of her recipes before."

"So you like it?" you ask "I just wanted to do something for you since she couldn't be with us during the holidays."

"I love it, you did an amazing job." he praises getting up from his seat and coming over to hold you tightly. "but more than that, I love you. There is no one else who would do something like this for me."

"You know I'd do just about anything for you," you smile as he tilts your chin up towards him so he can give you a more than thankful kiss.

"And I you," he says returning to your lips to enjoy another comforting taste.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kita hq #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita #kita x reader #kita haikyuu #kita shinsuke #kita scenarios #kita fluff #MIU collab #haikyuu fluff #25 days of fic mas

179 notes · View notes

mybuckynotyours · 1 year

Text

All I Ever Wanted

Pairing: sugardaddy!Bucky x female!reader

Warnings: None really, pure fluff! Slight mention of sex but mostly fluff.

A/N: I'm hoping that the tags will work. I'm trying to repost this. I hope you will all enjoy and thank you for reading! Any comments, reblogs and likes will be greatly appreciated!

"Goddammit!" You heard as soon as you walked into Bucky's lavish mansion.

As you had agreed a few weeks prior, you and Bucky were spending the holidays together.

You could not wait to burst out through the university doors as soon as the last lecture finished. That day you were too giddy and excited to focus on anything. Your mind was consumed with all sorts of thoughts on how you and Bucky will spend the Christmas holidays.

He had told you that he had to attend to some engagements to which you were definitely being dragged along with him. You were not to leave his side, as per his insistence and you were certainly not complaining nor disobeying.

You were spending the holidays like any other couple would. You went together Christmas shopping and you even went Christmas tree shopping because Bucky begged you for your opinion. He told you that he never actually bought a Christmas tree by himself, he had always just found it all put up and made up pretty with all the lights. But, this year was different. He was adamant to be involved in the whole process, so long as he did it with you.

So far, the holidays were magical. You were living your cheesy, girly dream. Living with the man that you so much adored, getting to cuddle together till you both fell asleep at night, cooking breakfast together, dancing in the living room before dinner. It was truly one of a kind, which made your heart yearn and ache for more. You had been thinking so hard, trying to prepare yourself for one of the hardest conversations of your life. You wanted to open your heart to Bucky and tell him exactly how you were feeling.

So one morning, just after breakfast you decided to go for a walk to collect your thoughts so that when you'd get back, you will address the damn elephant in the room. Bucky must feel the same way, he must. He has been doting over you every second of the day. Surely, these feelings are not one sided.

Hearing him huff and slam his palms on the kitchen counter seemed to be a bad sign to stir up this kind of conversation, as you walked into the kitchen.

Bucky seemed frustrated, his floofy hair out of place and his beard seemed even thicker. He was still quite the sight to see, even in just a plain black jeans and dark blue polo shirt. You wanted to continue staring but his growing annoyance was unavoidable.

"What's wrong Bucky?" You managed to say a bit too timidly for your liking. The way he was acting was making you nervous, especially since you had a plan to which you wished to execute but perhaps it had to happen another day or never.

"I'm sorry." It was as if he didn't notice you immediately as he jumped a little and withdrew back to rest against the kitchen sink, away from whatever was pissing him off. He didn't even look at you. You could see how his glare intensified, as his eyes squinted, focusing on the object of his irritation.

"Bucky?" You repeated again, pacing slowly towards him, stopping right in front of him.

"What has gotten you so worked up?" A while ago, all you could see was a small mess on the kitchen table. You spotted a pair of scissors, tape, red and purple ribbons and the Christmas wrapping paper, which ultimately covered the whole table.

You put two and two together as soon as it hit you and burst out laughing at him, clapping a little in the process.

"Oh my God! You're trying to wrap the presents by yourself?" You exclaimed in between laughs, trying to breathe but was a little hard. It was just so amusing, looking at a scolding man-child Bucky.

"I'm helpless! I tried but, I can't!" He was failing miserably at trying to defend himself, clearly.

"I have no clue how to wrap presents." He scolded again, folding his arms against his chest.

"You're being a big baby. Wrapping paper 1, Bucky 0." You laughed out loud again, amusing youself some more.

"Help me out instead of all this teasing, it's not fair!" He protested as he unfolded his arms to latch onto you by poking your sides. "C'mere." He joined in laughing as he wrapped himself around you, entrapping you in his embrace.

The laughing was dying down as you tried to catch your breath. Your head was resting against his broad chest, occasionally stifling a giggle and wiping your teary eyes.

"That was good, a really good laugh. You made cry!" You chuckled again, looking up at him.

"I did, did I? Well, later I'll make you cry but the sentiment's going to be a tad different." He winked at you before baring his teeth with a wolfish grin.

Your stomach was doing backflips as you caught on what he meant. You weren't sure whether he would make you cry out with pleasure or cry out desperately for release, perhaps the latter since you teased him so much. Bucky always managed to remind you who is ultimately in control in this relationship and you loved nothing more than to be reminded. He knew exactly how to tame his little vixen under the sheets.

"Let me show you how to wrap up a present at least?" You managed to say, trying to stay focused. It seemed impossible. The presents, his sexual innuendos, everything was becoming a distraction, your mind was floored.

"No, no, besides, it's just the one present." He detached himself from you, putting a slight distance. He rubbed the back of his neck as if he was about to make a decision about something. He wasn't looking your way as he did. His eyes were downcast, before he tilted his head a little to the side to look at the object that a while ago was downright frustrating him.

He moved further away from you, taking a few steps to the kitchen counter. You had turned your head around to watch what he was doing and turned your body around to continue eying him.

He turned around to face you, both of you standing in the middle of his kitchen. For some reason the room seemed to become smaller as a certain silence filled the room.

You were both staring at each other, without saying a word. Bucky was looking at you - it seemed different from all the looks he usually gives you. His expression was unreadable, the anticipation intensified.

He closed the distance between the two of you by capturing your lips with his as one of his hands cupped your chin, his thumb brushing your cheek as he deepened the kiss.

You loved the way he would always kiss you, so attentive and passionately. But somehow this kiss felt different. It seemed to carry more weight and meaning to it that you could hear your heart hammering in your chest. It was an all consuming kiss. Bucky was kissing you with everything that he's got, showing you more. The more you so want, more than anything in your world.

"Bucky." His name escaped your lips breathlessly as he pulled away. He wasn't too far. He gently kissed the tip of your nose and then your cheek, before he pecked your lips once more.

"Mmm." His strong body vibrated against yours as he murmured your name between kisses.

"I've got you something." He announced with a whisper.

"It's the first of many." You frowned a little at that. He had already given you so many gifts through the duration of your arrangement.

"I hope you'll like it." He finished as he placed a thin, long rectangular velvety box into your palms. The box was dark blue, matching the hue of his eyes at that moment.

You passed another look between the box and the man in front of you before opening the lid.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as you had never seen something so beautiful as this in your life and all for you. Did he mean this moment when he said he'll make you cry? Wait no. Oh my god.

A diamond necklace laid inside the box. It looked so delicate. You could not accept this. The little beads of diamonds, side by side - it was perfect.

"I can't. Oh my. Bucky." You held a hand up, your palm covering your open mouth. "Too much."

"Please." He hooked his index finger under your chin as you felt him lift your head to gaze into your eyes.

"You mean so much to me." He said so effortlessly, it was giving you the confidence to speak up and speak your mind.

"Daddy, this is all I ever want. I mean- you, this...us." You bit on your lower lip as the words escaped you.

"I know, babygirl. I love you." A single tear ran down your cheek as your stomach fluttered with excitement.

"You read my mind today." You managed to chuckle in between tears as Bucky's soft lips touched your forehead.

"I wanted to say something for so long. I'm sorry. It's been a...long while, to be exact." He sighed against your hair.

"Me too. There's no need to be sorry." You smiled warmly up at him.

You heard him profess his love for you, he was giving you a diamond neckless and he was being so tender. Just like a scripted story in a movie, except this was now, actually, your reality.

"I love you too, daddy. Thank you. This is the best Christmas ever." You continued to beam before once again closing the gap between the two of you to kiss him with all that you've got.

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #sebastian stan fan fiction #sebastian stan fan fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sugardaddy!bucky

219 notes · View notes