#i ordered a small salad and they gave me a BIG one and tucked in some dolmas too!!

[automaticpizzahologram]

Hi I don't speak German so sorry if I translate wrong.

Part 2

Y/n and Billy are both 16

I tie my apron around my waist and clip on my notepad and slip some pens in my pocket on my apron. My waitress uniform is a plain black pencil skirt, a white shirt, ablack tie, black apron, and black high heels.

I quickly put my hair up in my butterfly clawclip and walk in to the kitchen of the small restaurant. I work for work experience and some extra pocket money. I get 10 per hour and I work 3 hours so I get 30 every time I work which is awesome.

The restaurant is a cozy place that always smells nice, there's under fifty seats which is good for me because I normally work with one other girl, I get the impression that she doesn't like me that much because she gives me dirty looks. To be honest I don't know what I've done I met her a month ago when I started working here.

The restaurant is a Italian restaurant called Angerlos and luckily for me it's just a few streets away from where I live.

"hey y/n working again tonight."

" Hey Nelly , yeah I need the cash" Nelly is our chef, he's pretty cool. Nello is a big, balled, buff man, he looks quite intimidating when you first meet him but he's actually really sweet when you get to know him.

" well I hope you good luck"

"thanks" Nelly turns back around to what ever he's making, it smells heavenly, I walk out of the kitchen doors and into the dining part of the restaurant. I immediately jump into work finding a table to serve straight away.

I carefully bring a tray of hot food, hoping that I don't drop it, to a table.

"here you go one Italian style pizza and one sweet chilli chicken wings with salad and sour cream and chiv dip. if your not pleased tell me and I'll take it back for you. Enjoy" I place the two plates on the table and tuck the round tray under my arm. I gave the couple a smile and turn around and head back to the kitchen

" Hey y/n, apparently there's going to be a group coming in soon in about 15 minutes we've been old that they'll be recording some stuff, I don't know what it's for though"

"OK. Thanks Nelly" I place the tray back on the counter.

I spot some new people come in so I walk over to them and direct them to an empty table, I give the trio some menus and tell them I'll be back soon to take their order if they have decided.

I finish cleaning down a table when I hear the door open, I turn around and look at the door seeing what I presume is the group that's going to be filming. I see the other girl, Amanda, go over to the group, lead them to the biggest table we have, give them the menus and lingers at the table for a little too long.

I turn back around and Potter back on with my work

After about 14 minutes I hear the door open and shut. I turn around and see my best friend of 7 years standing at the door with a big smile on her face. I walk over to her and try to be as professional as I can, but with Pheobe it's hard

Pheobe is 5'2, with shoulder length curly ginger hair. She has freckles that cover almost all her face, her green eyes go well with her hair.

S

he really likes art, that's actually how we met in art class in primary school, i was new and she was the first person who was nice to me, we have been best friends since. I wouldn't swap our friendship for anything.

" I would like your finest table madam" she says with a rather bad posh accent.

" of course only the best for you , right this way milady" I say back in a terrible accent back. Pheobe bursts out laughing grabbing the attention of a few near by tables.

I lead Pheobe to the last empty table which happens to be right next to the table of the group

Pheobe, not so grateful, Sits down and looks at the menu for a split second before ordering.

"I would 3 a cowboy burger please with chips and onion rings please and for my drink I would like a diet coke, thanks "

I quickly scribble down her order, blowing a piece of hair out of my face I look up at her.

"I'll get it to you as soon as possible"

But before I could go and take Pheobes order to the kitchen a man from the table next to us gets my attention

" excuse me but we haven't been see yet and we have been waiting for a while to order"

"I'm so sorry I thought that Amanda was serving you, I'll take this order to the kitchen then I'll be right with you, I'll be just one second "

I quickly turn around and walk to the kitchen and through the doors, I clip the order onto the stand and walk back out.

As I'm walking back to the group I get my note pad out and click my pen open ready to take their orders.

"Hi, I'm so sorry for the wait what can I get for you" as I look at the group I spot two familiar faces but I can't remember where I've seen them from.

" would we be able to get these Please" the man hands me one of the restaurants order menus where you can write what you want instead of telling me, in big groups like this it makes my job much easier.

"of course you can, I'll give this to the chef and I'll get your drinks for you now. And again I'm so sorry for the wait" I turn around and walk back into the kitchen and put the sheet on the counter.

"nelly, can you make this one as soon as possible please, its the big groups and I thought Amanda was serving them, in fact I haven't seen her for a while. They have been waiting for over 15 minutes and the wait to be served has never been that long"

Nelly looks around for a quick second and nods his head.

I go to the bar and get there drinks, Four diet cokes, and 3 lemonades. I put the drinks on a large-ish round tray and walk back over to the table.

"here's your drinks. Your meals won't be to long. If there's anything wrong please don't hesitate to tell me"

"thank you" this time it wasn't a man but it was one of the people that look familiar.

"no problem, as I said your food shall be with you shortly until then enjoy" I walk away from the group and as I'm walking I catch Pheobe looking at me then at the group then at me again, I think nothing of it.

I hear the bell that signals that an order is ready, I look over my shoulder and see that it's Pheobe's burger. I walk into the kitchen and pick up her burger and star to carefully walk over to her table. I take the plate off of the tray and on to the table.

" here you go, one cowboy burger with chips and onion rings, enjoy"

"why thank you, this looks delicious"

I glance at the table next to Pheobes and quickly make eye contact with one of the members of the group. I give him a quick smile and and he smiles back his eyes lighting up, it suddenly clicks.

Thats why they look familiar their the two kids from the park from the other day how could I not remember him. I spot the camera it's a small black video camera and it's pointing to the 4 younger ones. They probably have a YouTube channel or something .

I turn my head away from the table and look at phoebe who's happily munching on some chips. "my breaks in like 6 minutes so save me some chips will ya.

I place the plates on to the table.

" here you go, again I'm so sorry about the wait, if there's anything wrong please tell me and I will sort it out" I make eye contact with Bill again and he's the one to smile first, the only lady of the group says something in German, and the man laughs, bill has a look on his face and the 3 others laugh as well.

I take of my apron then placing it on the back of the chair while I sit down on Pheobes table, taking the couple of chips she saved me and shoving them in my mouth.

"so who's that" she says in a hushed voice, leaning slightly over the table.

" who's who?" I say back in a hushed tone

"the one who keeps looking at you all the time, longish black hair"

"oh him, I met him in the park the other day as I was leaving I dropped my waterbottle and he picked it up for me"

Pheobe stops leaning over the table and stops talking in a hushed tone.

"how longs your break for?"

" 10 minutes then I have to go back to work for another half hour until I can go home"

"Not bad, I would stay till your shift ends but I need to be home in 15 minutes."

"that's OK"

We talk until my break ends

" I'll probably see you tomorrow for our weekly video call?"

I tie my apron around my waist again. "yep, 7 pm" I say picking up her plate

"I'll see you then, bye"

"bye"

I turn around and take her plate back to the kitchen then going back to cleaning up, out the corner of my eye I spot Amanda sneakily taking a picture of Bill and his group, they must either be pretty famous or she's a creepy stalker.

I turn to look at her and she gives me a discusted look as if I were the one taking the picture of them with out their permission, which is illegal. I roll my eyes and turn back around and continue to clear a table.

After about 15 minutes I quickly glance at Bill's table and notice they have finished eating and have stacked the plates, gosh I love when people do that, I walk over to the table.

"hi did you find everything alright"

"we did, thank you. Actually can we have 3 waters please"

"of course just let me take your stuff away and I'll get them for you straight away"

I pick the plates up and take them away to the kitchen. I walk over to the fridge and pick 3 bottles of water out, I grab 3 glasses and place some ice in the them . I pour the water into the cups and then place them on a small round tray.

I use my hip to push open the kitchen door because I have both my hands on the tray trying not to spill the drinks.

Carefully I walk over to the table, I manage to successfully not spill the water.

"here's your water" I place the drinks on the table and pick up the other cups and take them away.

It's five minutes until my shift ends, I'm cleaning down a table when I feel a tap on my shoulder, I straighten up and turn around to see who it was

"hi, i wanted to know if you wanted to go somewhere after your shift ends"

"oh Um sure I finish in about 5 minutes"

I look at the clock to see thay my shift has ended, I go into the kitchen and hang up my apron and pick up my bag.

"bye nelly. See you Thursday"

I walk back into the dining area and spot bill on his table, his group left about 10 minutes ago, looking down at his phone, his back was facing me so it was pretty easy to sneak up on him. I creep up behind him and peer over his shoulder. My face is next to his right ear

"what ya doing"

Bill jumped ever so slightly, I was expecting more of a reaction but its still a reaction.

I laugh slightly, Bill stands up from the table and slides his phone into his back pocket of his baggy jeans.

#bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel #fem reader

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

Back to Dessert

Elriel Month Week 1. “Forbidden Love” Bonus Fic

Modern AU. 1.6k words. Slightly NSFW.

A/N: A little bonus fic for this week because apparently I have zero self control. I wrote this earlier today so please ignore any mistakes x

Elain stood barefoot, kneading dough on the long island bench in the galley kitchen of her loft apartment. Flour dusted the expanse of the bench she was working at and sprinkles of it had even settled in her hair and on her clothes.

The pendants hanging from the ceiling above the bench were the only lights illuminated within her dimly lit apartment, setting everything awash in a soft glow. Open and airy, with the curtains never drawn, her loft was situated on the seventh floor of her building.

It was small, but spacious, with big wide windows and an exposed brick wall along one side. Candles scattered every surface, offering a soothing ambiance that complemented the view of the clear, starry night through her floor to ceiling windows. Her bed sat on a small mezzanine above her living room, and she had plants everywhere. She absolutely loved it.

At a quarter past twelve after midnight, a faint knock sounded at her front door. Wiping her floury hands on her jeans, she strode to the door, already knowing who would be on the other side.

Leaning his tall frame against the jamb, his forearm resting above his head, was Azriel. Clad in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, his motorbike helmet was tucked under a muscled arm and the smile he gave Elain in that moment made her breath catch.

“What took you so long?” she trilled, smiling up at him before grabbing him by the belt loop of his jeans and tugging him inside.

“Rhys and Cass wouldn’t fucking leave!” he bristled, following her into her apartment and toeing the door closed behind him with a booted foot.

“They kept playing game after game of FIFA. I kept yawning telling them I was tired, but they wouldn’t leave! My PlayStation was even done with their competetive bullshit by the end of it.”

Rhys had just started dating her sister Feyre a few months ago and it was obvious he was very smitten. He had begged his brothers not to hit on his girlfriend’s sisters, knowing they would immediately find the Archeron girls insanely attractive. Having been in awkward situations previously with love-scorned friends, Rhys was taking no chances this time. He didn’t want anything to fuck up his relationship with Feyre.

Too bad for him, and unbeknownst to their siblings, Azriel and Elain had been sneaking around and texting back and forth for about six weeks now. Meeting up between Elain’s classes, or after work; either at Azriel’s apartment or her loft.

Elain just chuckled, leading him to her kitchen island so she could finish getting her focaccia ready for the oven.

“Are you hungry? I’m making pasta. The restaurant was a nightmare tonight; I had two assholes spill their beers on me almost immediately after serving them, and then a kid ran into my tray and sent a bowl of soup flying across the floor. Amongst all the chaos I didn’t have time to eat, I’m starved!”

Azriel gave her a look that said he sympathized with her late nights spent studying or at work, necessary in order to be able to put herself through college.

“Sorry, your night was so disastrous… but pasta sounds amazing. What can I do?”

Checking on the simmering pot of sauce and giving it a little stir, she glanced over a shoulder at him. “How are your knife skills?” Elain asked innocently.

The smirk he gave her in return turned her insides molten.

“Oh, baby girl, I can do many wonderous things with a knife,” he purred, his voice dropping an octave.

She huffed a laugh, dipping her face so he wouldn’t see the blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Mmhmm… how about putting those skilful hands to work then, soldier. Prepare a salad with dinner,” she cooed back, leaning into his chest, her hands gripping the front of his t-shirt and tugging him down for a slow kiss before she pulled away.

“Spinach, fennel, avocado, snow peas. In the fridge,” she ordered before turning back to her ball of dough and drizzling olive oil into a baking sheet.

“Yes ma’am.”

They worked together in companiable silence for a while, the only sound in the apartment coming from the speaker that softly played the French jazz covers Elain liked to listen to in the evenings and the sound of Azriel’s knife falling against the chopping board.

As Elain spread the dough in the baking sheet and sunk her slender fingers into the oiled-up surface, dimpling the top, she watched with curious eyes as Azriel expertly scored the avocado, slicing it lengthways. Next, he cut the fennel bulb in half, carefully shaving strips of it with his knife into paper-thin wedges. He attentively layered all the salad ingredients on top of the spinach leaves he had washed and dried.

Finishing off the focaccia with a generous sprinkling of course sea salt and rosemary, Elain wiped her hands on a dishcloth and popped the tray in the hot oven, setting a timer for 15 minutes.

Giving her sauce another quick stir, she ladled up a spoon, testing the seasoning and moaned.

“Taste this,” she said to Azriel, holding up the wooden spoon to his lips, her other hand cradling below to catch anything that may drip.

His lips wrapped around the tip of the spoon, his tongue darting out to lick away sauce that had been caught on the side of his mouth.

He groaned, “Oh my god, El. That is so fucking good.”

His voice dripped like honey and the groan that had escaped the back of his throat made her toes curl against her hardwood floors.

“Just wait ‘til you try dessert,” she murmured, still standing before him holding the spoon.

He spun toward her slowly, locking his eyes with hers and removing the spoon from her grasp wordlessly. Throwing it somewhere on the bench behind them he grabbed each of her denim-clad thighs in his large hands, hefting her up effortlessly in his arms, and placed her on top of her island bench. Right atop the floury surface she where had just been working.

She sucked in a breath, her chest pushing out towards his with the movement, and he trailed a broad hand up her arm, around her shoulder and neck, and finally buried it in her thick hair. Angling her face just how he wanted it, he brought his lips towards hers, skimming them so featherlight against her mouth, barely letting her taste him.

His plush lips brushed against her own, his teasing little kisses giving her a faint taste of mint and the lingering notes of the beer he must have been drinking with his brothers.

She let loose a whimper and he couldn’t help but react to the sound. Pushing her jaw away with a thumb, he ran his nose up the length of her neck, sweeping her hair aside so he could suck and lick at her throat. Her hands shot up, fingers carding into his dark hair, cradling his head against her, imploring him not to retreat. His lips continued their sinful path along her burnished skin, tracing a soft, wet trail down to her chest, burying his face between her breasts as he continued to lave and kiss at every inch of creamy flesh she left exposed for him.

“Az,” she moaned, wrapping her thighs around his trim waist as he gently pushed her down, laying her flat on the island, her hands leaving floury prints across his black shirt, down his muscled arms.

“Mmm,” he answered, the sound muffled as his face was all but smothered in her chest, his hands coming up to squeeze at the pillowy swell of her soft breasts.

Reaching down to grasp the hem of his t-shirt, she hefted it up his back, pulling it over his head, revealing his muscled, tattooed chest. She swore her panties got a little wetter just at the sight of him.

“Fuck me,” she muttered in awe, trailing her delicate fingers across the thin smattering of hair dusting his torso, marvelling at the dips and swells of his massive chest. His chiselled abs. The divot of his Adonis belt peeking above the waistband of his low slung jeans.

“If you wish…” he responded in a purr. Peering down at her hungrily as she was sprawled before him on the table like his own personal treat, he pounced— latching onto her neck and chest, his tongue and teeth and lips biting, pulling and licking at her flushed, smooth skin. Her head fell back, her eyes fluttering closed and lips falling open, as Azriel’s truly talented mouth and deft hands did some wonderous things to her body.

Just as he was working a small hickey into the dip below her collar bone, her oven timer went off— an obnoxiously loud buzzer sounding throughout her apartment. Alarming them both, they startled, causing them to spring apart.

Hey eyes raked over Azriel’s form; his wide eyes and disheveled hair, flour handprints stamped all over his tan skin. She knew he was looking at a similar scene. A laugh bubbled from her lips suddenly, chuckling at the idea of her oven being a nosy cockblock, and worked to gather her wits about her as Azriel did the same.

Climbing down from the bench, she padded over to the oven on shaky legs to remove the focaccia and set in on the stove to cool.

“All these damn interruptions,” Azriel grumbled half-heartedly, his eyes roving up and down her curvaceous body. “It’s like some higher being doesn’t want us to be together.”

Elain smirked over her shoulder at him, pinning him with her smouldering brown eyes, still glowing with lust. “Nah, just your meddling brother. But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Azriel chuckled, a wolfish grin spreading across his handsome face as he beheld Elain’s floury, adorably rumpled appearance and swooned internally, just a little.

His eyes darkened as he took her in, greedily gobbling up the sight of her. Attempting to ebb the heat back down a touch, he simply responded, voice low, “Dinner, now. Then back to dessert.”

Elain’s lips twitched at the command in his voice, something inside her stirring awake. Oh, she liked him.

“Yes sir,” she teased back, reaching up on her tiptoes to an open shelf above the stovetop for two dinner plates and a couple wine glasses. She smiled to herself. Thanking every intricately woven thread of fate that had led her to Azriel.

*******

tagging: @elriel-month @offtorivendell @fawnandshadows @the-laughing-bubble @swankii-art-teacher @pagemasters @achelois-daughter​ @lesolehabitantdelalune @thisloveseternal @strangecreationchaos​ @fuckmelifesucks​ @annie-laur @gopeachllama​ @eloeloeheheh @tswaney17

#elriel month week 1 #forbidden love #t writes #elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #elain #elriel fanfiction #elriel fic #bonus fic #back to dessert #elriel month #elriel month 2022

[vampiricsheep]

If not for covid i would give my local pizzarias staff a big kiss

#i ordered a small salad and they gave me a BIG one and tucked in some dolmas too!! #i ran out of my multivitamins unexpectedly so ive been fucking wilting cuz i ran out of food stamps early this month #so no fresh veg #most of what i eat is just empty grains cuz theyre cheap djdsjs but it means i need those vitamins #ANYWAYS got distracted in what i was gonna say but. i caved and ordered a small salad and a veggie stuffed pita and they just #man I love em theyre so nice #also funny cuz doordash etc will charge you an arm for delivery but if you go straight throufh this places website its like. $1 #and unlike doordashers one time the bag leaked so they called me to say theyd be late cuz they went back to get a fixed one #anyways. mwah #for the very kind pizzaria staff #side note. almost all the pizza joints up here double as greek/mediterranean restaurants? #it's neat #i feel way more alive now that ive had some vegetables fjdjdkd #that one post about how after a certain age you feel sick if you dont eat them #sylposting

[inlovewithhisblueeyes]

Bright and Tiny Spark

Pairing: Dark!Clark Kent x little!Reader

Word Count: 981

Warnings: DDLG relationship, forced regression, inferred kidnapping and brainwashing

A/N: I was inspired by @overr-written and @mianorth 's winter soldier x little reader drabbles. I've been messing around with some dark Clark ideas for a while and they gave me a kick in the butt to start exploring that world. The divider is by @firefly-graphics

Kal-El had been working on his laptop before peering over at his little one sprawled out on the floor. She was enraptured by the world of colors she created on the page before her; her legs were gently kicking back and forth as she worked. Her trusted space pup stuffie, Twinkle, was propped up by the crayon box. All in all, it was a rather eventless Tuesday afternoon in their books.

This unusual calm and quiet unfortunately would not last much longer. A shrill ringing echoed throughout the room and his little one whined. Kal-El gave her a pointed look before answering. She made her way to the table where he sat, curious to see who dared disrupt their special time together. He was quick to stand up in order to keep her grabby hands away as Bruce droned on about where the fight was.

After promising that he’d be there shortly, Clark hung up to phone and his little one was nearly in tears at the news.

“But Daddy you can’t go,” she begged, clinging onto him with all her might.

He gently wiped away the stray tears that stained her cheeks.

“Oh, little star,” Kal-El cooed,” There are people that need-”

“I need you more!”

Clark chuckled softly at her,” Sweet girl. You’ll have Twinkle to keep you company while I’m gone.”

“If you go, then the light will be gone,” She sobbed and he carefully propped her up on his hip, rocking her slowly.

“You know why I call you little star hmmm? It’s because you are the light that guides me home,” He murmured into her hair.

It took a few moments for to her quiet down again. Clark gently tilted her chin to look her straight in the eye.

“How about we make a deal, little star? If you’re good while I’m gone, drink all your juice and watch your toons, I’ll read you whatever story--”

“Goodnight Moon!” his little girl chirped.

“Alright I’ll read you Goodnight Moon as many times as your little head can handle. Do we have a deal, little one?” he questioned.

“Yes, Daddy. We’ve gots a deal.”

“Good. Let’s get you all set up so daddy can go to work.”

He set her down and she ran over to grab Twinkle and her discarded art supplies. She quickly made her way to her special room, knowing the routine well. Kal-El grabbed some fruit salad in her princess bowl, a box of juice, and filled her butterfly sippy with water. When he entered her room, she was sitting on her daybed with Twinkle by her side.

The room was decorated with soft fabrics and pastel shades. It had a daybed for her to take her naps, a table with chairs for arts and crafts, and a princess tv with all her favorite movies and shows. In the corner was a rocking chair next to shelves that housed all her books and stuffed animals. He set her snack and drinks down on the table.

“What would you like to watch today, princess?”

“Octonauts pretty please!”

Clark set up the tv to play her show continuously before turning to face her. There were still remnants of tears in her eyes, but she seemed willing to be on her best behavior.

“Can I have a big hug before you go, Daddy?” she asked.

“Of course,”he replied as he swept her in his arms, giving her a tight squeeze.

“And kisses please?” she added and Clark covered her face in little smooches.

“Remember our promise and I’ll be back before you know it. I love you, little star,” Kal-El remarked as he set her back down next to Twinkle.

“Lub you too, Daddy,” his little one babbled.

He quickly made his way to the door before turning and blowing her one last kiss. She gave him a small wave before becoming entranced by the moving pictures on the tv. The Man of Steel closed the door and made sure the keypad was set so it could only be unlocked with his fingerprint. He then took off towards the fight.

The tv kept her occupied for a little while, but soon the anxiety of her daddy out there fighting bad guys and monsters became too much. She got up and switched off the tv before laying down on the bed. Luckily, her daddy had put glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling for her to count. She busied herself with seeing how many there were, yet was unable to make it past twenty before losing track and having to start over.

At some point during her counting, she ended up falling into a light sleep. She awoke to the sound of shuffling outside her door and scrambled to her feet to greet her daddy. The door was slowly peeled open to reveal him. However, he seemed different than he normally does after a big battle. Clark was propped up on the door frame, almost out of breath.

“Daddy! What happened?” his little one gasped, going to help him over to her daybed.

He sprawled himself onto the mattress with his legs slights hanging off. He was unable to answer her question between his coughs and gasps

“Daddy, I’ll take good care of you. Just like you do when I’m sick,” she promised.

She tucked Twinkle next to him and quickly ran to grab him bottled water from the fridge in the next room. She carefully lifted his head to help him drink a little before settling him back down. His little girl then went over to the rocking chair to grab the knitted blanket hanging off the back of it and Goodnight Moon.

She gently placed the blanket over him and sat down beside him. She opened up the book and began to read.

“In the great green room, there was a telephone and a red balloon and a…..”

#henry cavill fandom #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent x y/n #clark kent x you #daddy clark kent #dark clark kent #the cavillry #henry william dalgliesh cavill #superman #man of steel #dceu #dc extended universe #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent fanfic #superman fanfic #superman fanfiction #superman fic #clark kent fic #little reader

[kookiecrumb]

jjk|| Your Head

"tags": @kazthebrekkerofinej

word count: uhhhh

summary: Jungkook is the heir to the throne of your Kingdom! In this tale of duty versus heart, will love prevail victorious?

tags: Royalty!Jungkook x Peasant!Reader, oneshot, smut, fluff, slight angst, some crack, pining, forbidden lovers, Jungkookie has a sweet tooth, strangers to friends to lovers

warnings: explicit language, impact play, birthday sex (technically), fingering, oral (m receiving*), love marking, alcohol consumption, s&m themes, horny grinding, praise kink/body worship

a/n:

hey guys!

Firstly, I want to say how proud I am of myself for growing so much during this fic. I learned a lot about what I'm comfortable with, what I'd like to work on, and where my confidences lie.

I won't lie and say it's been easy, because writing this meant dealing with a lot of my fears? I'm excited for all the works that are to come.

The only thing I can do is be as receptive to growth as possible, so I'm looking forward to learning...

*I actually learned that Vaseline wasn't invented until like the 1870s? The fic is written in the 1810s, so I actually had a choice between having them do it with vegetable oil or spit. Spit won.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

5 years ago

You bend over to pick up an apple that had rolled over under your father's produce cart, praying that it isn't bruised so that you have to pay for it out of your dinner, when a crumpled piece of paper hits you in the ass.

Confused, you crawl out from under the stand and unwrap the paper.

The paper itself is of the finest quality you've ever seen. It's a sturdy cardstock, bleached white with gold etchings on the borders. The print on the top of it reads "His Highness Jeon's Royal Study," and scribbled in some kid's amateur cursive below, "Nice butt."

You directed your gaze upwards, towards the towering castle walls. Sure enough, a boy no older than 15 had his noggin popping out from the top of the rampart, with two wide eyes staring down, curious as to your reaction. This was Prince Jungkook, heir to the throne of your kingdom.

"Shouldn't you be equestrian horse riding or playing polo or something?" You shout. He furrows his eyebrows, apparently offended at your assumption, and then disappears behind the edifice.

Moments later, another paper hits your shoulder as you're practicing your caligraphy behind your cart. It lands between the apples, so you reach your hand over and fish out out.

You glance up at the anticipant, and sure enough he's there with his doe eyes and his coconut head, ogling.

"No, dumbie. That's at MID-day." Well how were YOU supposed to know the royal schedule of the crown prince, it wasn't just common knowlegde you learned from being a humble farmer's daught--

Ah!

"Will you STOP?!" You put your foot down. "Unless you're here to buy my apples, then you're not getting ANY, little Prince." Oh, shit. You gave him ideas. Now it was really over for you.

In less than half an hour, half a company of men arrived at the marketplace, asking about your little old apple stand, and sure enough, Jungkook had bought out the entire cart so that you were forced to help with the transaction.

The young prince had eyes frankly too big for his head, with the most prominent cupid's bow you've ever seen. His nose slightly outgrew his face and his ears were hidden away behind his short, black hair. "Now you can talk to me." He gave you a rose he'd stolen from the royal garden. "I am Jungkook, heir to the throne of--"

"I know who you are." You interrupt him, documenting His Highness' total in your calligraphy book.

With a hand perched on his chest from surprise, he scoffed. "And I happen to think you're really pretty, so I was going to ask you to be my very first consor--"

"You're 15, you have playmates not consorts."

"And how old are you?!" He's had it, raising his voice and taking a bite out of one of your apples with force.

"16, old enough to have suitors." You tease. Jungkook hangs his head a little. He just needed someone to talk to, it would seem. Reluctantly, you scribbled down your address down on a piece of note paper and handed it to him.

"Look, if you buy more of my apples, I'll have an excuse to tell my Dad so I can hang out with you." You spoke in a low voice as to not raise suspicion.

Your dad is standing negotiating with the guards about prices, his usual embarassing haggling gruffly overpowering the guards elegant twiddle-tones.

"Wonderful! See you soon, my sweet!" He resumes his confident demeanor, tucking the paper into his overcoat with a small smile. He salutes you boyishly and marches away with a year's supply of apples.

For the next week, the royal kitchen had baked 3 apple pies, made 5 fruit salads, 4 batches of apple muffins, and threw the rest of them in Sangria; that's the same Sangria as King Jeon finds himself drinking in his wife's drawing room on Sunday.

"Call Chef, fetch him up here." He waves to his assistant, keeping his eyes on the outside. He was deep in thought, his hands stoicly behind his back.

The Kingdom had been prosperous for over many years now, and war had not come close to threatening its borders in a lifetime. Negotiations were always successful, and quality of living was high. The work of a King, in a situation such as this, was to perfect the image of the royal family as strong rulers, and to paint his daughters as desirable to foreign heirs.

"Your Grace," the assistant called his attention, "Head Chef Sung." The dainty man bows and scurries off somewhere else.

Chef Sung is a portly man, who carries himself heaving with every step, his great belly inflating with each hefty inhale. He approaches the King, and kneels down to kiss his hand with his fat lips.

The King recoils in disgust, but quickly collects himself and his words. "Where are these apples from, is it France or Spain?" He demands.

"Neither, Your Highness." Mr.Sung lifts up his eyes. "They are from our Holy Kingdom; by order of Prince Jungkook, an entire cart was purchased of these apples and we have not been able to get rid of them." Tears threatened Chef Sungs eyes at the very mention of the fruit.

'Well, there's one thing the kid's done right.' King Jeon now faces the Chef, setting down his drink on a mahogany table, leaning against it casually. "Well! Good. I'd like to meet the owner of that cart, invite him to my Sunday brunch."

"Oh, yes, of course sir! You'll never see them in our kitchen aga--What?" Chef Sung takes out his handkerchief, waving it around in the air and drying his tears at once. "So you like them! Why...Yes! Yes, of course!"

Your father thought it would be valuable to have you around the kitchen, learning from the skilled men and women employed by the Jeon family. He only visited once a week to drop off fresh produce, (he'd been officially hired to handle restocking of goods) but you, after showing promising signs of being a gifted baker during one of your father's restocks, were granted scholarship by Ms.Kang to be her aid.

You were now, officially, a resident of the Jeon Estate, residing in the servant's quarters, immediately adjacent to the kitchen. This was convenient. It was far too convenient for a certain little Prince to get the idea of wanting a midnight snack and wandering downstairs.

One day, he does just that. He finds his way into the first bedroom to the right of the stairs facing the kitchen, and that happens to be your bedroom.

He pokes you awake. "Ow! Ow, whyyy~" You whine and toss yourself over to the other side of the bed. His irritating poking persists. You grab his fingers and your eyes shatter open.

You sit up, alarmed. "You could have me arrested, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I wanted a midnight snack! Besides, I wanna talk to you." He pouts, still holding a small teddy companion.

"Fine. I'll bake you ONE sheet of cookies." You slip on your night shoes and shuffle to the kitchen, and Jungkook tags along.

By the time Jungkook's 18th birthday comes around, he's in the kitchen helping you whisk buttercream to top his cake while having a tease at the Austrian Princess' mole.

"You have one right under your lip, look!" You take a little buttercream from the bowl and stain the dark spot with it.

He licks it up and hastens to add, "it needs more sugar, lady!" as he turns to grab a puffy bag of confection sugar.

"You're impossible to please." Snatching the sugar away from him, you smirk. "You can gobble down as many sweets as you want when the ball commences. Remember, this is the year you're supposed to be keeping your eye out for a girl of a good fam--"

"Yada yada, must have hips for childbearing, yada yada yada..." He mocks the speech his mother had told him that morning when he got dressed.

"Exactly." You set your bowl aside to fix Jungkook's tie. "Yes, and that's your duty, as our heir."

You step back and examine Jungkook one more time. He'd grown so tall in the last year, his legs like spider's and he was just beginning to grow into his features. Handsome boy.

You, too, had grown into an elegant young woman. You had a poised complexion, ready-mannered and graceful. Your hands seemed out of place in your otherwise feminine frame, carrying an extra bit of girth from baking. You were 19 years old.

Marriage was becoming an uncomfortably frequent topic during your visits home, as your mother had married young, herself, she expected the same of you.

Truth be told, there were plenty of offers for your hand. You were a skilled and very esteemed individual, who had broken into thr artisinal class. But your father knew better than put a dowry on your happiness. So long as you worked, he saw no reason to marry you off just yet.

"Now, go. Your sisters must be worried sick! Go out there." You shoo him, pushing him out the door of the kitchen despite his flailing arms.

Throughout the party, you'd been carrying a platter of your own baked goods, serving them to the aristocrats attending the Princes' coming-of-age ball. Accents from all over Europe and some from Kingdoms as far East as Cyprus jubilantly engaged in artful conversation which filled the air with good spirits.

Jungkook, himself, was busy being introduced to as many women as possible, a medley of presenting duchesses, ladies, and even Princesses of your Kingdom. They were each more qualified than you'll ever be, ten-fold.

One was a Greek Princess, her hair cascaded in darling curls down her shoulders and her eyes were deep-set, her voice a flirtatious trill.

Another, a Prussian Princess', posture radiated excellency, and whose complexion sparkled like powdered snow. Jungkook greeted her warmly, pleased with her appearance.

Distracted, you tripped up your skirt and dropped the remainder of your pastries. With that, you stepped off to use the restroom.

The sound of Strauss' Rosen aus dem Süden faintly loomed in the air as you wiped tears from your waterline in the mirror. That was just the way it was, wasn't it? Princes come of age, and they find wives who they commit their lives to.

"Married men don't have friends who are girls." You say out loud, just to realize it. Jungkook was now expected to find a mate within the season, and he was, in fact, quite the eligible bachelor.

Little did you know that Jungkook had been keeping an eye out for you throughout the party, not only because you were carrying his favorite Danish pastires, but because he knew your company was his greatest comfort.

He's in the midst of greeting the Duchess of Kent when he excuses himself to go look for you. He finds your mess first, frowning as he realizes something has gone terribly wrong.

He catches you in the hallway, face puffy and shaky. He grabs your wrist to keep you from darting back to the kitchen.

"Please don't do this, it's my birthday, y/n." It's as if an unspoken rule had been broken between you, and he feels it. Something is making you uncomfortable. "Was it the girls? You told me about this, it's my duty to at least greet them and--"

"Yeah, you sure did greet the Prussian woman nicely." You speak through tears. "She's the girl you were born to be with, huh? Your birthright?"Jungkook is silent. "Every girl at that ball wants to be your wife, want to have your children. They haven't known you for a day and yet they're ready to be your bride."

You search Jungkook's eyes for any sign of coherence, hoping that he would defend against you, that he would speak up and tell you otherwise. No such argument comes.

You yank your arm from his grip and march to the kitchen to remake the pastries you spilled.

You had the job of clearing off all the tables upon the departure of the last guests. It is midnight, and the windows of the castle stream moonlight down on the carpet beneath your feet. The glow of candles soothe you as you hum the waltzes which echo in your mind. It's a brilliant evening.

The centerpieces of the tables were gardenias, lush rose-like flowers with yellow pistils.

Summer, 1809

"Jungkook, wait! You're going to make me trip!" You shout from the top of the hill.

"You've gotta come see before the sun sets! It's the only way we'll get there on time, now run!" Jungkook's speeding down the terrain towards the Sycamore tree which grew deep and wide beneath the banks of a great rushing river.

You groan and throw caution to the wind, rolling down the steep mount in your Sunday dress. Jungkook turns to watch you, a grin spreading across his handsome face. "Look at you!"

You land on your feet at the bottom and scurry off to join Jungkook under the grandfather tree, out of breath entirely. "Now, look what you made me do. You're such a boy, you know that?! Making me come out here just to see some bloody--"

Jungkook has plucked a gardenia and placed it behind your ear. "Would you shut up? We got here on time. Behold."

In all its glory, the sun bathes you in its vivacious rays, creating a feeling of heavenly bliss as it dips below the horizon. The sky blushes pink, its clouds mere whisps above you. Wind rustles the leaves of the grand tree, rousing the birds to chirp their afternoon song.

"Mom used to come here all the time with my Dad, because of these." Jungkook clasped the blooming flower in his tender hands.

After a while, he says "the bugs will come out soon, so we ought to go back," as if he's trying not to scare something away. He helps you up, and with one last look across the valley, you walk next to each other back to the East Quarters.

You take all the silverware and plates by the tub to the dish-washing station and toss all of the linen napkins into the washing machine. All you had left was to blow out the lights in leading upstairs.

"Prince! It is very late, and there are no guests left for you to entertain. What troubles you?" Jungkook's sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands, still wearing his best suit.

"I disappointed you, y/n...I didn't like any of them." He admits, lifting his head up to sulk at you. "I should have told you then, but I didn't want to make you upset!"

Did Jungkook mistake your jealousy for disappointment?

"I'm not upset because you didn't hit it off with the girls..." You sigh. A confession is due, and he's ready to hear the truth from you about how you feel about him.

"Well, the truth is, I didn't like any of the girls because I like you, y/n. But you know that, don't you?" You pause, asking him to elaborate.

"Remember when I bought all the apples because I wanted to be with you? Like...I told you that you were my consort and I kind of meant it?" He felt pathetic now, realizing that you weren't just ignoring his advances. "So you didn't friendzone me for 2 years, you actually didn't know that I liked you."

It was almost laughable, a situation you would read in one of your illegal novels which you kept tucked away in your pillow at night. "No, Kookie, I didn't." You admit to your insolence.

You can't bear to lead him on any longer. You needed to put duty over your own self interest for the sake of the kingdom, even if it shattered his hope. It was better this way.

"But, you do know that we can't ever be a thing, right? It's just silly." Your heart tightens with the words which fall out of your mouth. "It is. Nevermind what your parents would think, what would it do for your image? You're on the world's stage, Jungkook, and you're a selfish person if you think you can just throw all of your duties away to date a scum of the Earth like-- like me!" With your heart in your throat, dry your eyes with your sleeve. "And...I want to, I really really want to, more than anything else to love you, Jungkook. I love you! I...can't." Through the blur of your tears, the shapeless blob that Jungkook has become stands up.

Taking his thumb and swiping it under your eyes, he sighs. Words escaping him, he takes your trembling body against his chest and nestles his head in the crook of your neck. Your cold hands travel underneath his overcoat to hold his waist. The Princes' lips plant a gentle kiss on your neck, chaste yet deep and satisfying.

"I will not accept any bride if not you, my love." He draws back, meeting your fervid gaze. "To the world, I remain a bachelor for a few years."

"And after those years, Jungkook?" You ride your hands up to caress the man's jaw. "You will still love me after those years, and then what?"

"I don't know," he says, voice as soft as powder. "I don't know many things, y/n, that's why I need you to teach me." His palms are rubbing at your waist, beckoning you closer.

His breath quickening as you lean your body against his hold, and you figure it must be the wine he drank to calm his nerves. That was it, wasn't it? He was drunk.

"You're not drunk, are you?" Your face sours, really hoping it's not the case as you feel your body temperature rise.

"Y/N, I've only had a glass. You saw I was a wreck back there." His lips kept chasing yours in a dance you can't quite describe. "I have wanted to hold you like this since I saw you selling apples on the street. Give me the honor..." His forehead against yours and his strong hands supporting your back, he's already fucking you with his eyes.

"The pleasure of being your lover." He squeezes your waist tight with his forearms, planting brisk kisses behind your ear and breathing in your scent. He smiles against you. Your skin pebbles at his affectionate touch, purring softly as your eyes roll back in delight.

"Kookie..." You breathe, leaning on his broad chest. "Kook, the maids are wondering where I am, I have to go..." You slur, tugging at his collar.

He grunts in protest, taking your ear between his teeth and nibbling it.

"If you let me go, I'll steal some cake for you tomorrow at breakfast." If there's anything Jungkook likes more than Cream Ice, it was cake. He unravels you from his arms and nods, his eyes softening.

"Request my service tomorrow, from Ms.Kang. She's been sweet on me lately." You peck his cheek before stepping back. Your rouge has embarrassingly stained His Grace's cheek.

Jungkook bows and presses a kiss on your hand, eyes rising to meet yours. "Til' morrow, babe."

Jiyoo shakes you awake the next morning, handing you a cake and a note that reads: "Prince Jungkook has a commission he must discuss with you. Meet him at his chamber immediately."

Lacing on a simple corset over your nightgown, you try not to look too red in the face as you climb up the stairs to His Majesty's room. You'd be up there alone, as requested. The girls would absolutely start rumors based on that alone-- rumors which you realize are probably totally true. This was stuff of scandal, after all...

'There shouldn't be anything scandalous about love.' You decide as you rap on His Highness' door.

"Please enter...but only if you have my cake!" Jungkook says in his morning voice. He's so cute.

The simplicity of Jungkook's abode takes you by surprise. His bedroom is very well lit, a capital display of the flowered valley through his bay windows washed the room in gold, painting his porcelain white carpets and his cotton sheets a warm creme color. His drawers and vanity were etched in gold, with breathtaking detailing.

The Monarch himself was splayed across the bed, laying on his side casually. He held a glass in his hand, holding a white wine. He puts down his glass and sits up as your presence.

"We both know that you didn't come here as my servant." You lock the door behind you. "And I have no such commission to give you, darling." The innocence which undertones his usual speech is missing as he coaxes you towards him.

"This much I know, Your Majesty," You say, taking a bit of frosting on your index finger and smudging it on the Princes lips. His black eyes, as cunning as a viper, watch you dangerously as you push two fingers past his plush lips. He wraps his hands around your wrist and draws your hand away, his gaze fixating on you.

"Set the cake down." At his command, you carefully place the confection down on a nearby chest, feeling Jungkook's eyes on you, drawing you back towards his grip.

"Let me pull your laces apart," with your waist held by his Herculean hand, he hums "and then let me pull you apart. I want to memorize your pleasures and gratify your desires, I need it, y/n..." Your back flush against his chest and your thighs split, his hands knead into you as he litters your collar with his mark.

You gasp softly against the crook of his neck, giving into his hold of you. His hot tongue spreads under your jaw, closing into a hard kiss as his hands travel back up to undo your corset and free your tits.

One by one, his fingers pop open the buttons left on your gown until the collar hangs off-shoulder to expose your collarbone. At the sight of new skin, Jungkook's tongue darts to stain it.

His hands stagger above your breasts. "Is it okay if I touch you here?"

"Oh, Kookie, touch me everywhere~" Your hands form fists around Jungkook's shirt, beckoning him impossibly closer.

Grasping one ever so carefully, his thumb grazes your bud as he playfully bites under your ear. "ah-- ahh,"

Jungkook groans in response, he can't believe how cute you sound. Curious, he wants to hear more, so he traces your thighs and experimentally pushes up the outside your cunt.

You squirm, tensing up immediately in response. You bring your hands down to find the latch on his trousers and dip your hands below to rub him through his undergarments. He heatedly bucks up to meet your touch, a panting mess.

You face him now as he watches you ride his fingers while you grip his girth through his clothes. He takes you by the ass and places you on his prominent bulge, hips rolling into you as he hungrily kisses you, his firm hands grinding your core on his cock.

His face is a sinful red, panting under you desperately.

"I've been wanting to do this," His voice warbles through your touch, running your thumb along his underside. It's his turn to gasp. He sits up and collapses his lips into yours, softer than rose petals and his taste faintly like wine.

You place your hand on his chest, and his heart is pounding, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his honeylike complexion.

Hastily, you pull your dress over your head and lean back to allow him to familiarize himself with your stark form, a dainty chain hanging between your bosom. Jungkook bites his lips as he wriggles out of his clothing, desposing of it beside the bed.

He's giddy behind those sultry eyes, you know him well enough that he's overexcited to get inside of you. It goes straight to his cock, your playfulness as you feel up his bare shoulders and discover his abdominals, your fingers tracing his ridges with a sense of innocent wonder.

He takes your hands and looks at you in this way-- Butterflies fill your stomach instantly. Jungkook's thumbing at your pout with his intrepid fingers.

His eyes flutter when grip his base and submerge your upper body below his hips. You lick a long, thick stripe up his underside, causing his breath to hitch and his head to fall back on to the bed.

Those goddamn cupid's bow lips of his would whisper the dirtiest things under his breath, lewd thoughts that sounded completely alien coming from His Majesty's mouth, he said for you.

"Oh, such a pretty mouth~ It's so good, y/n, you swallow me so good--" he moaned like a mantra, trying to keep his hips from snapping up into you. Your hot, wet tongue wrapped around his throbbing cock was only a fantasy to him for years.

He fills your throat with his girth, his taste tantalizingly smooth. It leaves your mouth with a 'pop.' You struggle to keep your legs apart as you crawl up to kiss him.

He takes those fingers of his and slides his index and middle into you and languidly thrusts them, smirking against your lips. "Shit, you liked that, hmm..."

"Kookie...please," you whine as he squeezes your ass hard before smacking it. You yelp, the sting of his fingers radiating from your skin.

"I like it when you beg, y/n, it's so cute..." He pulls your ass up to his thighs. He's flush hard against your abdomen, already sticky with his precum and your spit. You marvel at the self control he has.

You don't finish your thought before he has his head inside of you, impaling you on his cock and stretching your entrance, hissing at how incredible it felt to have you around him.

His shaft reached pleasure points within you had yet to discover. You clench, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. "Wh... hngh," he groans, "how did you do that, do it again--" You wrap your legs around his thighs and clench around him, biting your lip. You watch as he shivers from pleasure, feeling his skin horripilate under your touch.

His thumb is softly circling above your clit as he pulls out of you carefully. He swirls back in, nestling himself inside your heat, hissing. "Ahh~ Jungkook~!" At the sound of his first name moaned out of your mouth, he groans and rolls his hips up to create messy friction. That familiar knot in your stomach tingles as he plays with the bundle of nerves buried within you.

He glances up at your ruined lips, clashing with them again as he lifts your knees up with his hands and thrusts nice and rough, making you yell with every jolt of his cock. The smell and sound of sex fills the room as he experiments with positions, laying you on all fours.

"Get your ass up for me." You obey, ever servile. You're reminded-- you're his servant. He owns your work, he owns your services, and now he wants you in the most lucrative way, he wants your soaked cunt around his imperial cock. He gets what he wants.

Jungkook's palms smack against your ass one more time, just to watch the way it jiggles for him. He smirks a little before he shoves himself into your pretty little cunt. You bury your face into the pillows in pelasure as he chases your orgasm with vigor, fingering your clitoris while you move your hips back to meet his hard thrusts.

You whine like a harlot, his cock allowing you every satisfaction as he works a head-spinning orgasm out of that cunt. "I'm gonna cum, Kookie~!" you warn as you spasm against his length, moans ripping from your throat as you coat him with your thick juices.

His hips stutter up and he just barely pulls himself completely from you as he paints your back white, a guttural groan escaping his mouth.

After a while of loud panting and scattered giggling, Jungkook reaches over for a wet cloth and cleans the both of you gingerly. You trail your hands up to caress his jaw and kiss his lips softly.

"You need to tell everyone that I had a long and extensive request for the Harvest party, that I wanted a lot of fall fruits and vegetables featured in the baked goods, make it as specific as possible and make sure that you mention that I want to meet with you again, over dinner." His labored breathing punctuate his words, as youd kisses consume him. "And..."

"And?" You cock an eyebrow, simpering.

"Doyouthinkmaybeyoucouldbringmesomemilktogowithmycake?" He mumbles, eyes glued on the bed.

"What?" (If you give a Kookie a Cookie...)

Disgruntled, he sighs and repeats: "Milk! Milk for my cake. I know it's moist cause you made it but I'm really thirsty, especially after..." His cheeks flush a cute pink. You wait for him to continue just to fluster him a little more. "Y/N, just please!" You can't ever refuse his pouty face.

Next week, Jungkook's got you pinned against the hallway wall, making out with you hungrily as his hands ride up your dress. Just across the hall, his Dad is negotiating war with Portugal over land in the West.

The next month, you have his cock buried in your throat underneath the table at an important conference about how to create jobs.

All this while the pressure for Jungkook to find a bride continues to rise as he reaches seniority, and as his father's grey hairs pronounce themselves.

Warm touches are always hidden away to the public eye, but often shared between two kindred spirits underneath the man in the moon's watchful eye. Jungkook, as he reaches his maturity, grows strong. His jaw sharpens, and his eyes darken. His hair grows long, and he gains weight. Now at the proud age of 20, Jungkook had become a man before everyone's eyes, including the eyes of foreign monarchs and their eligible bachelorettes.

One day, you're serving the Royal family at a private dinner, when the topic of marriage comes up for the first time since his birthday.

"Your mother has made friends with the mother of the Austrian Princess, and she's invited you to the cordial ball to introduce yourself to the Princess. An allyship with Austria would prove advantageous for our relations with France, so you are to make your best impression." The King wipes his mouth. Setting his fork down, he continues: "It is in the family's best interest for you to marry her, if the French Princess, Anastasie, does not present this season or the next." The Queen holds the King's hand firmly, reassuring him from his shoulder. She wears a slight frown on her face, her eyes worrisome, somber. The King hides his anxiety, as he's been accustomed to from decades of responsibility. Would this be the face of Jungkook soon?

For now, Jungkook's face is scrunching at the thought of marrying Anastasie. She's not the most delightful young woman, her imprudence ruined her enjoyment of any event. She couldn't keep an intuitive conversation about regional politics and domestic policy for the life of her. Her people were on the brink of overthrowing the aristocracy, he was sure of it.

"Yes, father," is what you hear from him before you disappear down the stairs to fetch desserts.

Jiyoo interrupts your quest for sweets with a letter, signed by His Grace. She has a naturally innocent demeanor, her cheeks rosy and her frame as delicate as a feather. "Y/N, you have another special request from His Majesty...can I ask you why you get so many of these?" She looks genuinely curious, not a single menacing thought behind those eyes.

"It's because the Prince really really loves his cake." I mean, technically it was true. Jungkook never passed up an opportunity to squeeze, smack, or dig his fingernails into your ass during your sessions.

"Oh." Jiyoo pouts. "So it's not because you're like, in love or anything?" Her eyes are glued to the floor. You were expecting this question eventually, as the other girls in the kitchen were already suspecting it. It was only a matter of time before word slipped into the girl's ears.

"As much as I enjoy the Prince's interest in my baking, it isn't my place to confess any sort of feeling for him." Your answer is straightforward enough, so Jiyoo nods and hands you the letter. Another request.

Outside the Palace, Winter came like the wind. Lakes froze over, and couples tied up their skates and danced on the ice. The trees were bare and brown, not a single leaf persisting through the chilling breath of Jack Frost.

Jungkook had left for the Winter Palace, to volunteer and raise spirits up in the North. As heir to the throne, he was to be Commander in Chief of the Royal Armed Forces, and therefore needed to undergo intensive training in order to boost morale.

You're back home, and in your wake is your father, who has now grown tangibly tired. He's been on a strict diet of warm vegetable soup for about three months, now. His eyes are sunken, but he still wears a subtle smile even during his most trying days.

Match girls make their rounds at night, you watch as the lamplighters illuminate the streets with their tall ladders and their taller peacoats. Shop windows glow warm shades of yellow and creme; inscriptions on the glass create shadows on the white snow.

"Wow. It's almost as cold as the King's heart out here." You step outside one day with a cup of tea, sneaking in a cheeky smirk. Yeah, good one.

"I heard that!" You turn towards the little voice. A child, maybe about 9 or 10 years old is pointing at you. You squint at it.

"Well, it's true..." You mumble. You have a bit of change in your pocket, so you walk towards a stand to buy a hot bun and a paper.

"Chilly today, hon...Best you take this on the house." The tenant hands you a steaming cake wrapped in a simple cloth and your paper. You stick the paper in your dress pocket and take back your change. You nod a 'thank you.'

You spill the contents of your pockets on the dining table and snatch the paper, snapping it open. Your eyes eagerly skim the headline: "Prince Jungkook Fires Up Royal Army." Below is an article detailing the happenings of His Majesty. All of it sounded very intense, the running, strategizing, first aid training...Was there anything Prince Jeon couldn't nail on the first try?

You set the paper down and pick up your now lukewarm tea. In the back of your mind you're coping with the fact that the Spring Solstice is next week, and that marks the beginning of Jungkook's last season as a Prince.

The King is ill with tuberculosis, and recovery is unlikely. If Jungkook is to marry, it is next season and that was final.

Sitting at the window of his Winter Castle study, Jungkook plays with a ring nestled between his fingers. He looks out onto the lake, as if he's trying to reach you with his gaze. His heart is tight knowing that it would be the season he chooses his bride. Actually, he'd already made up his mind long ago. If his duty was to marry, there was no way to evade such a responsibility. He had to fulfill it, despite his anxieties.

He straightens up and walks out of the hollow room with a firm step.

You awaken with the sound of horse's hooves thudding against the Earth. It is yet to be dawn, and in the distance, thunder roars mightily.

A figure wearing a long, black hood hoists itself off of the animal, tying it to a nearby post. It walks towards an obscure entrance, unknown to many staff.

Intrigued, you wrap a blanket around yourself and peek out at the stranger. His fingers are shorter than his palms, and that's when he tosses of his hood, his eyes set on you. "Y/N..."

You're bewildered by his guise, questions filling your head.

"I was horny, so I left camp" He sits down at the counter, catapulting a cookie into his mouth.

You roll your eyes. "And the guards let you?! Jungkook!" You whisper-yelled at him, readjusting your makeshift blanket-dress.

"Obviously not!" He puffed out his chest with pride. "I bribed them," he smirks.

"You're insufferable," you scoff, your eyes wandering down to observe his physique. His shirt is anything but conservative, highlighting the muscle he'd earned through laborious, sweat-inducing drills. You can feel his eyes on your face as you observe him.

"You can't hide it either," he crosses his arms. "You're standing in the kitchen with a blanket around your naked body." He flicks his tongue. He steps forward, putting a finger under your jaw so you're looking him in the eye.

Your eyes fill with lust as he speaks over your lips. "Look at yourself..." A crash is heard in the other room.

Jungkook's head darts up and in a flash, he disappears into the night.

'Fuck.' You gather your dress from the floor and shuffle back to your chamber.

The first event of the season commences with the most exaltant of spirits as friends of old greet each other with youthful smiles. Juicy exposés, enticing tales, and thoughtful greetings are exchanged in the most formal manner, and the conversation is lively; the most controversial topic of conversation, however, is the rumor that Jungkook is to marry this season.

So far, he's been to four different private residences within his own Kingdom and has been invited, by the secretary of King Louis XVII to meet their daughter. It would be an understatement to say that stakes were high for the pending King.

You were kneading your dough a little too hard thinking about it. "Not so rough, y/n!" Ms.Kang snatches the mixture from your hands. "What is up with you lately, you're so tense! It's really disrupting the kitchen's dynamic."

You shrug it off. "It's going to be hard sedating Anastasie's sweet tooth, I suppose."

"Well, you seem to be doing just fine dealing with Jungkook's addiction to cakes...She's perfect for him, really." Ms.Kang throws more flour on your kneading table and steps off. You give up on the dough, covering it with a cloth and letting it rise.

Jungkook is tapping his feet, munching on finger sandwiches as he waits on you to make an appearance.

"Dearest Prince, look, I am wearing Mediterranean violet!" A duchess shouts as she passes by him, to which he raises his eyebrows at. Another, with dark green eyes approaches and begins speaking rapidly in French at him. Frightened and undereducated, his canned response was: "Excusez-moi, Pouvez-vous répéter plus lentement s'il vous plaît," to which the duchess furrows her eyebrows before something else catches her attention, elsewhere.

Truth is, Jungkook is incredibly shaken at the thought of announcing his engagement tonight. Well, that and the fact that you had yet to pop out of the kitchen. Man, those finger sandwiches were good.

As the night progresses, Jungkook realizes that if he doesn't get up on that platform and say what he needed to say, he'd have to say it in London. Setting his fears aside, he plants himself on top of the orchestral stage and taps a champagne glass with a cheese fork. The music comes to a stop.

With conviction, he begins: "The time has come that I announce my engagement. To all of my beloved friends, who have introduced me to the most beautiful, talented, diverse, and benevolent ladies I've come to get to know over the years, I thank you from the depths of my soul." He swallows and continues, his confident voice masking his trembling. "The life of a Prince is defined by the virtues presented to him at birth. Those virtues are: duty, responsibility, grace, kindness, mercy and integrity." Here comes the part, oh shit.

"I am abdicating my throne to my Cousin, the Duke of Namseong."

Silence sweeps the room. You poke your head out to see what was going on.

"...to marry the love of my life, y/n." He points at you. Your face is cherry red, and you find yourself dropping those same Danish fucking pastries all over the carpet.

"Shit," you fall on your knees, plucking them from the ground one by one. You don't know whether to run as fast as you can or to present yourself, but your body seems to be currently doing the latter. You go along with it.

Jungkook takes your hand tenderly on the stage. "I am unable to perform my duties as King, and therefore am ineligible for the throne." His touch gives you the will to continue beside him. You feel the pure fear rushing through your love's veins, and he knows that this is the hardest thing he'll ever have to do, yet he stands by his announcement.

So, if Jungkook doesn't get to be King of this World, he at least will forever be the King of Your Heart.

But all this, of course...is all in Your, dear reader, Head.

~

a/n:

hope you enjoyed.

#angst #bts #crack fic #for fun #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader fluff #jungkook x reader smut #kpop #bts au #royalty!au #prince!au #prince!jungkook #forbidden love #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook crack #pining #oneshot #i am actually terrified of posting the oneshot #jungkook has a sweetooth #x reader #bts x reader #body worship kink

[mello-jello]

hi jello!! what about post timeskip levihan? commander hanji is working very hard and rarely, rarely sleeps (let alone eats and bathes properly. its worse than before now though.).

what if one time levi discovers hanji passed tf out due to sheer exhaustion in the most weird and random of places. he doesn’t want to wake them up bc hanji def needs the rest so he carries/tucks her into bed.🥺❤️

JAZZY thank you for the prompt! I kind of combined it with this one too:

Thank you, Anon!

Preview:

Hange gave a small laugh before saying, “Thank you Levi, I feel much better now.”

“Tch, you haven’t even done what we came here to do,” Levi scoffed.

Hange made a confused sound.

“Drop the dish.”

It had been 3 years since Shiganshina. Levi climbed into the carriage and sat across from Hange, who was still reading through her notes from the long and grueling meeting that lasted for the better part of the day. All the highest ranking military officials had been called to the capital to discuss Paradis’s best course of action. Queen historia was there, along with her staff, advisors, and of course Zackley. Levi had been to plenty of these meetings before, but this time was different in a bit of a distressing way.

Over the years, Levi had watched Erwin defend the scouts countless times. From questionable means of gathering information, to explaining away hundreds of lives lost, he always had an answer for everything and he always managed to leave with a favourable image. It was something Levi truly admired and even envied about Erwin.

But now he had been watching Hange flounder. She has indeed improved over the last 3 years, but she still doubts herself and while it might not be known to those around her, Levi can’t help but feel sympathetic to her situation. Today however, the other officials had been particularly ruthless.

“Take a break, Hange,” Levi ordered. Hange just sighed. Then her stomach growled. “Have you eaten today?”

“Uuuuuuuhhh,” Hange mused as she genuinely struggled to remember.

“Tch, there’s your answer,” Levi crossed his arms. The rest of the officials had a big dinner scheduled for tonight, but of course the Survey Corps got shafted and had to leave early in order to prepare. Hange met his eyes again with an exhausted look he was all too familiar with.

“How have you been sleeping?”

“Not great,” she admitted. Levi’s stomach sank. He had dealt with his own insomnia his whole life, but it seems worse on Hange. Perhaps it was the stark contrast from her former bubbly and loud personality. Hange pinched the bridge of her nose and let out another long sigh. Levi couldn’t help feeling inadequate and helpless. He rarely got himself to sleep, how could he help Hange?

Levi looked out the window at the setting sun when he got an idea. He realized what Hange had been neglecting while trying to be a good commander. Something that wasn’t just eating and sleeping. Something that was unique to Hange.

“Hange, there’s one more thing you need to do before we leave.”

Hange raised an eyebrow.

Levi told the driver to wait for them and escorted Hange to the dining hall.

“Levi, we were technically invited, but I don’t think showing up for food after we already said goodbye is a very good look for us,” Hange practically whispered.

Levi opened the doors and they were greeted with a sweet aroma of bread, appetizers, and whatever was going to be the main dish. Hange’s mouth watered. The long elegant table was decorated with ornate candles, beautiful china, crystal glasses, and there were 4 sets of cutlery for each place setting.

“Relax, they won’t be here just yet. They will all be busy getting dressed for dinner.”

Hange grabbed a bread roll and took a huge bite, not bothering to chew before she commented, “I never understood ‘dressing for dinner’ ugh. What’s the point?”

Levi was about to make a half hearted comment about how Hange could never fit in with “civilized” society, but he stopped himself when he saw she was eating and was a little bit more relaxed. He found a small plate of savoury looking appetizers and handed it to her. She immediately took one.

“MMM, Levi!” she exclaimed, pointing at the plate. She popped another in her mouth before saying, “you gotta try these!”

Levi put up a hand and said, “you enjoy.”

Hange enthusiastically cleared the whole platter in less than a minute, and Levi was watching her, endeared at the behaviour. He had missed this side of her. Despite how gross it was, there was a glimpse of the carefree Hange he once knew. A small hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Then Hange belched.

“Disgusting,” Levi waved the air in front of his nose.

Hange gave a small laugh before saying, “Thank you Levi, I feel much better now.”

“Tch, you haven’t even done what we came here to do,” Levi scoffed.

Hange made a confused sound.

“Drop the dish.”

Hange’s one eye widened as she processed what Levi was saying.

“C’mon, you need to blow off some steam. They were total assholes to you today, and for what? You didn’t know the exact amount of your food budget? And yet,” Levi gestured to the banquet. He then picked up a delicate looking wine glass. He held his arm outstretched, and loosened his grip, letting it crash to the ground. “Oops.”

A mischievous smile stretched across Hange’s lips. “Oops,” she mimicked Levi and let the empty platter fall to the floor, breaking into dozens of pieces. She slowly started to lap around the long luxurious set up, like a predator admiring her prey before pouncing.

“Right? And Nile, ugh, what a hypocrite! Giving me shit for not knowing about that small thing, belittling me in front of everyone,” Hange snapped a salad plate against the edge of the table. “It wasn’t too long ago when he would have been the first to admit he had no idea what the first interior squad were up to! We had to find out for ourselves. Erwin was almost hanged!” Hange kicked a chair over on its side.

“Yeah, fuck Nile,” Levi egged her on. He took a seat at the head of the table and started sipping from one of the water glasses.

“Is this his spot?”

Levi shrugged but Hange was already pouring out a glass of wine all over the white seat, staining it a deep crimson. Levi hid his delight behind another sip.

“And did you catch what he said at the end? ‘Some of us have wives to get home to’”, she imitated in a mocking tone as she casually pushed a platter of dumplings off the table. “Yeah, run home, Nile. Run home to Erwin’s SLOPPY SECONDS!”

Levi blew water out of his nose, and before he could react, Hange reached under the short side of the table and flipped it over, sending its contents hurtling across the room. Hange was elated at the result, laughing almost maniacally.

“Idiot,” Levi hissed, grabbing Hange’s wrist and leading her out the side door. He heard footsteps, and so he instinctively dove into nearby shrubbery, taking Hange down with him.

They hid in the bushes for minutes, Levi pressing his hand to suppress Hange’s uncontrollable laughter. It had been so long since she’d laughed like this. It was infectious and Levi might have actually laughed himself, were it not for the fear of getting caught. He had no problem telling the MPs where to shove it, but he didn’t want Hange to get in trouble. Her whole body was convulsing, and it was rattling the leaves around her. Levi used all his body weight to stop her jerky movements.

After about another minute of total silence, Hange tapped Levi’s arm, signalling to let go. He was hesitant, but he obliged. Hange drew a couple deep breaths, fanning herself, trying to calm down from laughing so hard. Levi was transfixed by the way the moonlight danced on her tear-stained face. They stared at each other for a moment before Hange snickered once more, causing Levi to cover her mouth yet again. “You’re impossible,” he said, pushing her head back down.

Once the coast was clear, they ran back to their carriage, hand in hand. Partly because Levi wanted Hange to keep up, and partly because it felt nice to hold her hand. They ducked their heads until they were off of the main roads. A few minutes later, Hange started giggling again.

“What?” Levi asked.

Hange bit her lip playfully as she reached into her coat and pulled out a bottle of expensive wine she must have swiped from the banquet.

Levi rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help his smile. She looked like a child that just got away with stealing more dessert. She looked joyful for the first time in a long time. She yanked out the cork and took a swig before offering the bottle to Levi. He graciously accepted and tasted the wine for himself. It was too sweet for his taste, but he couldn’t deny that it was spectacular.

“That’s nice,” he commented.

“Pfft! It tastes the same as the cheap stuff!” Hange scoffed as she took the bottle back. Any other time, Levi would have teased her and started an argument, but not today. He wanted to cherish this moment. He leaned over to look at the stars through his window. Not a bad ending to an otherwise terrible day.

After Shiganshina, he and Hange had lost so much. Their comrades, friends; life as they knew it had completely changed and they barely had a moment’s breather to come to grips with it all. Levi was unfortunately accustomed to it, but Hange wasn’t. Hange had been so strong through all of this and Levi wanted to find the right words to tell her. Maybe it was the exhaustion they both felt; maybe it was the close proximity, but for some reason, somehow, Levi felt a tiny bit of courage surge through his veins.

“Hey, Hange, I-”

When he turned to look at her, she was fast asleep, neck crooked as she cradled the bottle of wine. Levi smiled at her. She looked peaceful, like she was getting quality sleep. He took the bottle from her arms and gently maneuvered her to a more comfortable, lying down position. He removed his jacket and draped it over her, as a make-shift blanket.

“Goodnight, Four-Eyes,” he mumbled to himself and returned to his seat. Hange slept the whole way home. When they finally arrived in the southern barracks, Levi couldn’t bring himself to wake her up. He quickly ran their luggage up to their rooms, and came back for Hange.

Being as gentle as he could, he scooped up the commander and ignored the curious look he got from the carriage driver. She was taller than him, and her long limbs made the trek a little difficult, but he was determined. Her steady breaths tickled the skin of his neck.

He carried her up the winding staircase and into her quarters. He lowered her on the bed, careful not to go too fast. He cradled her head for a split second longer than he needed too. He took off her long boots one at a time, placing them silently on the floor at the end of the bed. He undid the top two buttons of her jacket and shirt, just for comfort. Then he pulled the blanket up to her chin, and tucked around the sides.

Finally, he removed her glasses and eyepatch, caressing the tender skin underneath. Placing them on her night stand, he got up to leave. The door hinge creaked as he opened it, and Hange stirred.

“Mmm Levi?” She called out.

Levi wasn’t sure if she was actually awake, or if she was sleep-talking. He was still deciding whether he should answer when she continued, “Thank you, Levi. For everything.”

“You too, Hange,” he spoke just above a whisper, as he closed her door.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #fluff

[multiwendi]

P1harmony reaction to their s/o being too shy to order for themselves?

hello! here’s your request  ♡  sorry for taking me too long, my life is crazy right now 

reaction continues under keep reading 

P1harmony reaction to their s/o being too shy to order for themselves

Keeho

Keeho took you on dinner after his comeback with boys. It was a fancy restaurant. He's been watching you for a while because you seemed silent and nervous.

"Pumpkin, what's wrong with you?" he asked you carefully. You didn't answer at first because you were shocked by the prizes on the menu.

"Pumpkin, what's wrong with you?" he asked again, meeting your shocked eyes.

"Actually, I'm not hungry at all," you said, placing the menu on the table.

"Before we got here, you said how hungry you are. So I ask you one last time. What's wrong?" Keeho looks at you with a confused look.

"Everything costs insanely too much, even the salads. I don't want to cost you a fortune," you said, sanctifying your head to avoid his gaze. He lets out a chuckle.

"Pumpkin, I have enough money to buy you this dinner with dessert, then take you to the movies with a ton of popcorn and coke. Don't be shy and order anything you want."

Theo

Your boyfriend asked you if you want to go out and eat some delicious food since you have a lot of assignments. So you said yes because you were exhausted and want to relax. You met at your favorite burger's place, where you met, by the way, and where you went on your first date.

"Hi, princess. I a, so hungry! I haven't eaten since breakfast because I'm ready to eat until I have to unbutton my pants how much I would overeat," Theo kissed you on the cheek. You giggled while you hugged him tightly. He intertwined his fingers with you, and then you finally entered the restaurant where no one but you and the staff was.

"Our best customers are back, welcome. As usual or something extra?" the kind old lady asked with a big smile on her lips.

"For me as usual and for you, Y/N?" Theo bumped into your hip. You looked upon the food menu, staring at onion rings with a sauce. But you ended up picking your usual.

"As usual for me too," you said, exhaling deeply.

"Are you sure? I saw you looking at something more," the lady gasped.

"Add double onion rings with your great sauce," Theo winked at the lady. You gave him a surprised look.

"Why are you suddenly shy? You know you can order anything," he smiled at you, hugging you around the shoulders.

"I know but, I may gain weight after all this junk food," you sighed.

"Oh, come on. I ordered double onion rings. Let's gain weight together."

Jiung

It was Saturday night when you came into the boys' dorm for a movie marathon. You were sitting on the couch all together watching some scary movie, which wasn't scary at all. Jiung was cuddling with you, but then, suddenly, your stomach made a loud noise because you hadn't eaten yet.

"Oh my god, sunshine, why did you don't tell me you're hungry?" Jiung looked at you worriedly.

"Let's order something! Chicken? Pizza? Or something else?" Intak asked, grabbing his phone, ready to call somewhere.

"I'd like some salad, please," you said shyly. You know the guys for a few weeks, but you were shy to eat before them.

"Sunshine, don't be shy, let's order that fabulous chicken we had last time at yours."

Intak

You love desserts so does Intak. A new bakery near fnc opened a few days ago, and you planned to go there and eat anything that caught your eye. All those cakes, muffins, rolls, biscuits, cakes shouted "eat me" at you. You looked up at Intak, seeing his sparkling eyes and a bright smile on his lips.

"Oh my god, I can't decide what to order. What about you, sweetie?" he asked, whining.

"I was thinking about the strawberry cake," you pointed at the great looking piece of cake. You avoided Intak's gaze because you were also interested in a coconut roll with chocolate icing.

"Only that? I saw you looking at more than that," he tilted his head to the side and frowned at you.

"The coconut roll looks so good, but I don't have enough money with me. So yeah, only that piece of cake," you nodded, stepping from foot to foot.

"Really? You know I invited you to our candy-filled date, so don't say anything about money. I promised to pay for anything we liked. So The strawberry cake and coconut roll?"

Soul

Another date with Soul went like this: you met at your house, then you walked a little bit around your neighborhood, and the last stop you made, was visiting McDonald's. Soul was talking about the fries all way there.

"What do you want to order? Nuggets, fries, some wrap or happy meal?" his eyes were sparkling, warming your heart. He's so cute when he's talking about the food.

"Can I have only one wrap, please?" you looked at him with a small smile because you weren't THAT hungry to eat all of the food.

"Oh. I thought I'd buy you a happy meal, and then we'd argue about the toy inside," he said with a sigh.

"Maybe I change my mind. I'd like to have a happy meal. Can I, please?"

Jongseob

Jongseob invited you on a tacos date. So you thought it was going to be a date, but when you saw Kee and Theo, you realized it wasn't going to be a normal date. It will be another date full of tricky questions and interrogations about your relationship. You greeted with a shy smile. You haven't felt so good enough to eat in front of them yet. You went inside, looking for a free table to sit at. When you all sat down you look at all the beautiful looking tacos.

"I can't decide which to choose. Can someone help me choose, maybe you, Y/N?" Theo looked at you with a polite smile.

"The chicken tacos and beef tacos are awesome, but the spicy mixed tacos are great too," you said shyly,   tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"So which one are you gonna pick?" Jongseb smiled at you from ear to ear.

"I'll take the chicken one," you put the menu on the table.

"Are you sure you want only one? You always take at least two," your boyfriend looked at you surprised.  

"If you're shy because of us, we're sorry. Don't be shy because you belong to us now."  

#anon #request #requested #p1harmony #p1h #p1harmony reaction #p1harmony fluff #p1harmony scenario #p1harmony imagine #p1harmony keeho #p1harmony theo #p1harmony jiung #p1harmony intak #p1harmony soul #p1harmony jongseob #yoon keeho #keeho fluff #keeho scenario #keeho imagine #choi taeyang #theo fluff #theo scenario #theo imagine #choi jiung #jiung fluff #jiung scenario #jiung imagine #hwang intak #intak fluff #intak scenario

[mldrgrl]

The Matchmaker

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary:  Based on this old prompt I got, which I originally said I couldn’t handle, but then inspiration struck and I had to roll with it.  

Scully has only just barely opened the door to the dark office when Mulder is shoving a file into her hands and closing the door behind her.  The projector is on, but the screen is blank, just white square of light and Mulder’s silhouette as he takes her to-go cup of coffee from her hands so she can shrug out of her overcoat.

“Once upon a time,” he says, handing her coffee back to her.

“Really, Mulder?  Once upon a time?”

He smirks good-naturedly and snatches up the remote to the projector to advance to the first slide.  “Once upon a time there was a little tiny tree in a great big forest in New Hampshire.”

“Mmhm.”  

Scully tucks the unopened file under her arm and passes through the warm light of the slide projector to put her satchel down at her workstation.  She takes a momentary glance at a grainy, black and white photo of a large tree and sips her coffee.

“Estimates have placed this particular tree to be somewhere around 400 years old.  This is the earliest photo of it I could find, in the Manchester Daily from 1929.”

“Did someone cut this tiny little tree down and release a great big swarm of deadly mites like the ones we encountered in Washington state?”

“No, nothing like that.”  Mulder winces and scratches the back of his head before advancing to the next slide, another black and white photo from a different angle, wider so that the tree in question stands small and alone in the middle of a field against a backdrop of mighty oaks and firs and pines.    

“Well?” she asks.

“Did you know there are countless legends about enchanted trees?  Trees with magical powers, trees that have the ability to heal or harm or grant wishes or foretell the future?”

“Folklore.”

“Every single culture has some kind of legend about the power of a tree.”

“Mulder, you once tried to tell me the same thing about Bigfoot.”

He ignores the wisecrack and clicks through his slides, narrating the images that appear on the screen.  “The Jinmenju tree in Japan is said to have fruit with human faces that laugh at people who happen to walk by.  There’s the sacred Norse tree Yggdrasil, center of the cosmos and where the Gods gather for daily court.  In Iranian mythology the Bas tokhmak is said to contain seeds that eliminate sorrow and despair.  And the Hungarian égig érő fa or sky-high tree that only selected shamans are entitled to climb and encounter magical worlds in the clouds.”

“Sounds suspiciously similar to Jack and the Beanstalk.”

“And then there’s the Hart’s Location Flame Thrower Redbud.”    

Scully presumes the new slide is the same tree that was in black and white at the start of the slideshow, only now it’s in color.  The leaves are multicolored, mostly red and purple, but some are so dark they’re nearly black.  Though small, the tree stands out in sharp contrast to the yellow fieldgrass, blue sky, and the green trees behind it.

“Well, it’s certainly beautiful,” she says.

“The locals call it The Matchmaker.”

Scully snorts softly.  “And why is that?” she asks.

“If you open up that file I so generously put together for you, you’ll find newspaper clippings from the past half-century, most of them wedding announcements, citing this tree as a key to what led these couples to a happy union.”

“Mulder...you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Of course with any good legend, there’s a catch.”

“Of course there is.”  She puts her coffee down and opens the file, but doesn’t take more than a passing glance at the pages she flips through.

“From what I can gather, and keep in mind this is the Cliff’s Notes version of things, people believe the tree can predict compatibility in couples who make the pilgrimage there.”

“And how, pray tell, does the tree do this?”

“Glad you asked!”  Mulder advances the next slide, a close up photo of the left hand of a woman.  The ring finger is disfigured in some way, appearing to Scully to almost resemble a twig.

“What the hell am I looking at, Mulder?”

“You’re looking at an example of what might happen if a couple is not compatible.  There’s an online Usenet group dedicated to finding matches for anyone who’s had, let’s say, experiences with the tree that have left them unrequited.”

“Unrequited?”

Mulder scrolls through the next few slides without comment.  There’s another photo of the side of a woman’s face with what appears at first to be a small pinecone earring, but on closer look the pinecone is actually attached to the earlobe.  There’s another of a hand, masculine this time, with veins that look like tree roots creeping up from wrist to knuckles.  The last one is a forearm covered with a thin layer of moss.

“They say the only way to reverse the effects is by true love’s touch.”

“True love’s touch,” she repeats.

“Hope you’ve got your hiking boots ready and an overnight bag in the car,” he says, clicking over to an aerial photo of a forest.  “We’re headed to a little town on the outskirts of Crawford Notch State Park.”

She tries not to sigh in response.

*****

The flight to Manchester is less than two hours and they arrive just before noon.  Scully has flipped through the file Mulder gave to her, and though the clippings make for amusing anecdotes, she sees nothing noteworthy or remarkable.

“What exactly is your interest in this case,” Scully asks, buckling her seatbelt after she takes her usual navigational seat in their rental car.  “Not that I even believe there actually is a case here, let alone an x-file.”

“You don’t think it’s unusual just how many couples cite that tree as a turning point in their relationships?”

“Not really.”

“You’re not even a little curious?”

“About what?”

“The tree.”

“Quite honestly, I’m far more curious about what you’re going to buy me for lunch than I am about a matchmaking tree.”

He chuckles.  “Ah, well, lucky for you our first stop happens to be a diner not too far from here.”

“Yes, lucky me.”

*****

The diner resembles a small cabin and is nestled amongst the trees off the side of the road.  She doesn’t want to admit it, but the drive so far has been beautiful.  The highway is narrow and tree-lined and it’s autumn.  Miles upon miles of yellows and reds and golds and greens and oranges.  To say that the road is picturesque would be an understatement.

The little cabin-diner is warm and cozy.  A wood-burning stove is on in one corner, easily heating the small space.  There’s a long counter with swivel-seats dividing the cabin in half, lengthwise, and four booths pressed up against the front windows, two on either side of the door.  Only one man sits at the counter, sipping coffee and reading a newspaper.  He looks up briefly when Mulder and Scully enter, but immediately returns his attention to his newspaper.

A waitress in an emerald green, button-down dress and starch white apron comes out from behind the counter with two menus.  She smiles congenially as she says good afternoon and waves to the booths.

“Take your pick,” she says.

Mulder looks to Scully and she sees him glance at the counter.  She nods and cuts her eyes to the nametag pinned above the pocket of the woman’s uniform.  “The counter is fine,” she says.  “Janet.”

“Sure.”  Janet turns and her blonde curls bounce lightly against her back.  Her shoes squeak as she makes her way back to the other side of the counter and places the menus down side by side.

“What do you recommend?” Mulder asks.

“Can’t ever go wrong with a burger,” Janet answers, pulling an order booklet out of her apron pocket.  “But, the special today is meatloaf.  And the soup is tomato bisque.”

“I’ll do the burger.  Medium well.  Is that pie under that dome back there?”

“Pecan.”

“More of a sweet potato guy.”

“Yeah, me too.  Well, sweet potato girl.”  Janet laughs and winks and Mulder chuckles and nods.

Scully clears her throat and slaps her menu down on the counter so hard that Mulder jumps.  “I’ll have the chicken salad,” she says, pushing the menu towards Janet.  “Balsamic vinaigrette on the side, if you have it.”

“Sure.”

Janet swipes the menus from the counter, scribbles their orders down and rips the paper from the pad to slide it through a small window behind her.  Scully adjusts her napkin and cutlery as Mulder swivels towards her and leans in close with his elbow on the counter and his hand across his forehead.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you being hostile to the witness.”

“The witness?”

Mulder inclines his head towards Janet and then raises his eyebrows.  “Did you even read the file?”

“I gave it a glance.”

“Janet is one of the unrequited.”

“Too bad for Janet.”

Mulder narrows his eyes a little at her and puckers his lips to form a question.  She doesn’t know why she’s suddenly feeling so catty, she just does.  No, that’s not true.  She does know why she’s feeling catty.  The past year her partnership has felt like a game of ping pong, bouncing between extreme highs and extreme lows.  And the wedge that was driven between them by Diana Fowley, may she rest in peace, is not far enough in the rear view mirror for her liking.  They’re on the mend, both professionally and personally, but she still can’t help but feel threatened in some way when Mulder turns the charm on with strangers.

“I’ll stop being hostile if you stop flirting,” she blurts out, regretting not only what she’s just said, but the way in which it flies out of her mouth.

“Flirting?”

“Forget it.”

“Flirting?”

“Nevermind.”  

Mulder straightens in his seat and puts both hands flat on the counter.  Scully rolls her shoulders back and tucks her chin down.  She lets her hair fall across her cheeks to hide her embarrassment.  Janet is suddenly there in front of them again, two glasses of water in her hands.

“Didn’t even ask if you folks wanted something to drink,” she says.

“Got any iced tea?” Mulder asks.

“Sure do.”

“Two lemons, please.”

“And for the lady?”

“I’ll just have the water, thank you,” Scully says.

Janet is gone for what feels like only seconds before she’s bringing a glass of iced tea to Mulder and a small glass dish of lemon slices.  Mulder thanks her warmly and for some reason, that makes Scully feel even more chagrined.

“Janet,” Mulder says, reaching into the interior breast pocket of his jacket to grab his ID.  “My name is Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully.  My partner and I are actually on an assignment right now that you might be able to help us with.”

“Me?”

“Have you ever been out to see a tree they call The Matchmaker?”

The smile on Janet’s face wavers and then fades into a frown.  She stands stock still for a few moments and then grabs a rag from the side of the counter as though she’s about to clean something, but then just twists it nervously her hands.

“What do you know about it?” she asks.

“Not much, which is why we’re here.  We know from our preliminary investigation that you’re amongst the group that calls yourselves the unrequited.”

Janet nods slowly.  “That’s not...a crime, is it?”

“No, no.  We’re trying to determine if you might be the victim of one though.  It’s my understanding your contact with the tree has left you with some sort of affliction.”

Janet nods again and then hesitates before tucking the rag in her hands into her waistband and coming around the counter.  Both Mulder and Scully turn in their seats and Janet turns her back to both of them.  She lifts the hair up off her neck and it’s then that Scully’s interest is finally piqued.  The back of Janet’s neck is rough and scaly, resembling tree bark.  Scully whips a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and leans closer to Janet.

“Do you mind if I…?” Scully asks.

Janet glances over her shoulder at Scully, looks at the gloves she’s pulling on, and then nods her head.  “Go ahead,” she answers.

“Agent Scully is a medical doctor,” Mulder says, unnecessarily.  

Scully gently prods the ridges at the back of Janet’s neck.  It appears as though the skin is very dry and may flake away, but in reality it’s very thick and does not give at all.  Mulder hovers over Scully, his chin nearly touching her shoulder.

“It could be an allergic reaction,” Scully says.  “It appears to be a localized eczema.  Have you seen a dermatologist?”

“I’ve been to every dermatologist in the area,” Janet answers, dropping her hair and turning back around.  “They’ve done biopsies, tried laser removal, creams, gels, cryotherapy, the whole nine yards.  No one knows what it is or how to treat it.”

“And you think the tree that Agent Mulder mentioned earlier has something to do with this?”

“Oh, I know it does.  I was foolish enough to ignore the warnings and so...well, now I’m one of the unrequited.”

“I see.”

“Can you walk us through how it happened?” Mulder asks.

“It was about five years ago now, I was a senior in high school.  Me and my boyfriend at the time, Anthony, we thought it would be like a funny thing to do just before graduation.  We’d been together all through high school, grown up on the same block, and we were planning on getting married the next fall.”

Scully lets her eyes drop momentarily to Janet’s hands and notes the absence of a ring on her finger.  

“You knew of the stories before you went up there?” Mulder asks.

“Oh yeah,” Janet answers.  “I mean, if you’re from around here, you hear all about it from the time you’re a kid.  And everyone wants to brag about it, you know?  You hear from all your friends, my parents touched The Matchmaker and then got married, but no one wants to talk about the other side of it.”

“You and Anthony?” Scully asks.  “You never married?”

“Well, how could we?  He wasn’t the one.”

“According to the tree.”

“If it was true love, I wouldn’t be afflicted.”

“You really believe that?”

Janet points to her neck.  “I didn’t until this happened.”

“You didn’t believe in the legend when you went there?” Mulder asks.

“Not really.  Who would believe that a tree could do this?”

“You folks need to talk to Hattie Vale,” the man at the other end of the counter suddenly pipes up, even though he doesn’t even look up from his newspaper.

“Hattie Vale?” Mulder asks, swiveling in his seat to face the older man.

“Mmhm.”  He nods once and turns the page of his paper.  “That cursed tree is part of her legacy.  Janet, I’ll take my check now, if you please.”

“You got it, Wallace.”  Janet gives Scully a wry smile before she heads behind the counter again, ripping a page out of her booklet.

“Can you tell us how to find Miss Vale?” Mulder asks.

“Take the red bridge about a mile inside the entrance of Crawford Notch. Sign’ll say private property, but it’s just to try to keep looky-loos away from the tree.”  Wallace takes a few bills out of his wallet and puts them on the counter.  “Thank you, Janet.”

“See you tomorrow,” Janet says.

“Miss Vale lives out by the tree?” Mulder asks.

Wallace folds his newspaper and then stands and tucks it under his arm.  “Go right at the fork, that’ll take you to Hattie.  Go left, that’ll take you to The Matchmaker.  And take my advice, don’t touch that tree.”  

“You have a personal experience you’d like to share with us?”

“No.”  Wallace pulls a hat out from his jacket pocket, slaps it on his head, and walks out of the diner.

“Why do I not believe him?” Mulder says to Scully as he turns back to face the counter.

*****

Hattie Vale’s home is exactly where Wallace says it would be.  While the diner was a faux cabin, Hattie’s place is the real deal.  Scully would not be surprised if it did not have running water or electricity.

The woman that greets them on the porch is both ancient and spry.  She’s stocky and squarely built, wearing a thin housedress and a hand-knit sweater and moccasins on her feet.  Two long, grey braids fall over her shoulders to her hips.  Her face is sunburnt and weathered, deep lines in her forehead and at the sides of her mouth.  She grins broadly, revealing a handful of missing teeth.

“I had a feeling I might get visitors today,” she says.  “And here you folks are.”

“Are you Hattie Vale?” Mulder asks.

“Sure am.  Who’s asking?”

“My name is Agent Mulder, this is Agent Scully.”  He stops at the edge of the porch and holds up his badge and Scully does the same.

“That supposed to impress me or something?”

“Ah, no Ma’am,” Mulder says, chuckling as he tucks his ID back into his pocket.  “We’re investigating some unexplained afflictions associated with a tree in these parts referred to as The Matchmaker.”

“You’re about three centuries too late for that, bub.”

“Forgive me for my tardiness.”

Hattie laughs heartily at Mulder’s joke and Scully has to fight not to roll her eyes at him when he gives a pleased grin in her direction.

“Come on in, I got coffee I can put on.”

“That’s not necessary, Mrs. Vale, we only want to ask a few questions,” Scully says.

“Come on in anyway, let me put my feet up.”

Mulder hops up the stairs onto the porch and Scully trudges up behind him.  She’s surprised to find that the cabin actually does have electricity and is fairly tidy and well-furnished.  The large room is a combination kitchen, dining area and living space.  Hand-woven rugs are strategically placed on the wood floors.  Knitted blankets are draped over the couch and a lounge chair.  There’s no TV, but there is a transistor radio perched on a folding tray next to the chair.

Hattie plops herself down into the lounger and pulls a lever to extend the footrest.  She leans back with her hands over her belly and flexes her toes inside her moccasins.

“How long have you lived out here?” Mulder asks, waiting for Scully to take a seat before he perches himself at the edge of the couch.

“Well, I was born here, so I figured I might as well die here too, but I did move out to Vermont for a time when I got married.  After I raised my kids and my husband passed, I thought it was as good of time as any to come back.  That would’ve been somewhere around 1942, I think.”

“That was fifty-seven years ago,” Mulder says.  “You had already raised your kids and been widowed by then?”

Hattie laughs again.  “I was born in 1885.”

“You’re 114 years old?”

“Don’t look a day over 100, do I?”  She wiggles her shoulders a little and lifts her brows.  Even Scully has to smile in amusement.

“Mrs. Vale,” Scully starts.

“Hattie, please.  Never liked formalities.  So stuffy.”

“Hattie, can you tell us anything about the tree?”

“Maybe why some might say it’s cursed,” Mulder adds, and Scully grimaces.

“A curse?  Bah.  Sounds like you’ve been talking to my grandson.”

“Who’s your grandson?” Mulder asks.

“Name is Wallace Byrd.  He’s my girl Rosemary’s boy.”

Mulder and Scully give each other a glance.  “We did...happen to run into someone named Wallace,” Mulder says.

“Wally had a bad go of it when he was a young man.  He blames the tree for it, silly boy.”

“So, you don’t think it’s cursed?”

“Not at all, the tree is blessed, if anything.”

“Do you happen to know how it came to be blessed?”

“Oh yes, I can tell you exactly how it came to be.”

There’s a twinkle in Hattie’s eyes as she starts to tell the story of the tree, one that makes Scully even more dubious and Mulder even more interested.

“My four times great grandfather, Jean-Luc Benoit, came to this area from Quebec City in the first half of the 1700s,” Hattie says.  “There was a Winnipesaukee tribe that lived nearby and they traded goods often.  Jean-Luc fell in love with a squaw from the village called Little Flower, and she with him, much to her father’s dismay.  Sensing that Jean-Luc was going to ask for his blessing to marry his daughter, her father met with some of the elders of the village and they told him he would have to ask the white man to pass a test of his true love if he were to take one of their women away.”

Mulder nods encouragingly at Hattie and then grins at Scully.  His enjoyment of the tale is palpable.  She keeps her gaze straight ahead, afraid she might slip and very unprofessionally roll her eyes at him.

“Little Flower’s father took the advice of the elders,” Hattie continues.  “Except, he decided he was going to give the would-be suitor an impossible task.  He told Jean-Luc to plant a seed, and only when that seed had flourished and become a tree, could he have his daughter’s hand in marriage.  Jean-Luc said his love was unhurried and he would plant the tree and wait as long as it took.  A ceremony was held for the planting and to everyone’s astonishment, the tree grew overnight.”    

“Overnight?” Mulder asks.  “Incredible.”

“I’ll say,” Scully murmurs.

“But, that wasn’t to be the end of it,” Hattie says.  “Little Flower’s father was distraught by the turn of events.  Instead of turning to the elders as he had before, this time he went directly to the tree, believing the Gods may have grown the tree as punishment for his trickery.  He apologized for his wrongdoing and pleaded with the tree for a sign that would show him that Jean-Luc was worthy.  When he went home, his village was in chaos.  They told him that right before their eyes, his daughter had started growing leaves where her hair was and roots where her feet were and that she reached up to the sky and her arms became limbs and her fingers became branches.”

“She turned into a tree?” Mulder asks.

“So they say.  Little Flower’s father was distraught and horrified.  He tried pulling her feet from the earth, but the roots just grew deeper.  When he saw that he could do nothing, he ran to Jean-Luc and asked for his help.  The instant that Jean-Luc touched the tree that Little Flower had become, she was restored to her human self.”

“And since then, people have come to ask the tree to show them who their true love is?” Mulder asks.

“That’s about right.  Mostly locals though, passing the story along to their children and grandchildren.”

“Mrs. Vale, Hattie, are you aware of any pesticides that may have been sprayed around the tree or perhaps any poisonous foliage that might surround the area?” Scully asks.

Hattie shrugs.  “Been years since I’ve been out by that tree.  The state took that part of the land years ago when they formed the park.”

“Have you heard about people coming away from the tree with afflictions?” Mulder asks.  “Skin problems, or physical ailments of some kind?  You said your grandson, Wallace, believes the tree to be cursed.  Has he been suffering from an ailment after contact?”

“Ailments?  No.  Broken heart is more like it.  Wallace brought his sweetheart out to the tree before he proposed.  He was a believer in the legend and said the tree showed him that Corrine, that was his girl, was his true love.  A week before their wedding she was killed in an automobile accident.  He never got over it.  Now, he thinks the tree cursed him to a life alone.  I tried to tell him many times not to take stock in that tale.  It’s just a tale, after all.”

“So, you don’t believe in the legend?” Mulder asks.

“Believe in a tree that grows overnight and wraps a girl up in branches?”  Hattie laughs.  “You’d have to be crazy to believe in that kind of thing.”

It’s Scully’s turn to grin and Mulder smiles good-naturedly.  He stands, and Scully does as well.  

“Thank you for your time,” Scully says.

“Could you tell us, what’s the best way to reach the tree from here?”

“Once you cross back over the bridge head due west.  The ‘no trespassing’ signs should lead you right to it.”

*****

It really is a stunning tree, Scully thinks, as they stand before it.  The photos didn’t do it justice.  The sun shines onto the top of the tree, making it look alive with red-purple flames.  The branches curve out and the leaves cascade like a waterfall.  The field grass flutters in the wind like a golden wave around their feet and the leaves of all the trees that surround them shake and rustle.  She has to brush her hair from her eyes and away from her cheeks.

“Well, I guess we should take a look,” Mulder says.

“What is it that we’re looking for?” she asks.

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know, Mulder, I’m not a botanist.  Plants aren’t something I ever took a strong interest in.  I’m not even sure I’d truly be able to identify poison ivy if I came across it.”

“Leaves of three, let them be.”  Mulder smiles as he pulls on a pair of gloves.  “Something we used to say as kids to avoid it when we were camping.”

“And somehow I’m guessing you still managed to pull your share of rashes.”

“I don’t know where these baseless accusations are coming from, but I will neither confirm nor deny the generous supply of Calamine Lotion my mother kept on hand for such occasions.”

Scully snorts softly and pulls her own pair of gloves on.  Mulder is already crouching before the tree, running his hand over the dirt. He picks up a fallen leaf and twirls it by the stem.

“It looks like a heart,” he tells her, turning it upside down and holding it up between pinched fingers.  He’s right.  

“Bag it,” Scully says, handing him a plastic bag.  “We’ll need soil samples as well.  Maybe scrape some bark off as well.”

“I take it your theory is the tree is toxic?”

“Perhaps.”

“Mmhm.”  Mulder seals up the leaf and stands back up.  “Any of those poisonous plants you mentioned before known to cause skin irritations for over five years?”

“Mulder, I’m fairly certain that contact with this tree is merely coincidence.  Take Janet, for example, she could have daily exposure to an allergen without even knowing it, causing that rash at the back of her neck, her laundry detergent, for example.”

“Something that all of the dermatologists she’s been to have failed to diagnose?”

“I’m only saying that there are more probable explanations for why someone would develop a skin irritation than a centuries old legend.”

“Probable, but not implausible,” he says.

“Mulder, you’re crazy,” she answers with a shake of her head and a small laugh.

He pockets the plastic-wrapped leaf and then walks away from her to circle the tree.  Scully studies the lush mane of leaves, trying to determine the best possible way to part them and reach the trunk.  She puts her hands into a gap and a few birds fly up and out of the tree in a panic, their wings flapping wildly.  She jumps back, heart racing.  A sudden breeze ruffles the back of her hair and she shivers.  Goosebumps prick her arms, but she isn’t cold.  Her shoulder pulls up automatically as the inside of her ear is tickled with what feels like a soft whisper.

“Mulder?”  She turns, but no one is there.  She hurries to the other side of the three and spots Mulder a few yards away, looking up into the white pines that border the clearing.

Scully turns back to the tree and finds another gap in the leaves to part.  She cautiously pushes them aside and finds she’s able to lift a section back and step under the canopy of branches.  Hunching slightly, she pulls her pocketknife out and scrapes a bit of bark from the thin trunk and bags it.  She crouches down to collect some dirt as well.  As she straightens her knees, her heel comes back and catches on a tree root and she stumbles.  Her first instinct is to throw her arm out and her hand smacks into the tree trunk.  She can feel the bark bite into her palm through her glove and the inside of her wrist is scraped in her efforts to prevent herself from falling.

“Dammit,” she mutters, wobbling into her hunched position and letting go of the tree.  She pulls the sleeve of her blazer up to inspect her hand.  There’s debris on her glove and the inside of her wrist is scratched red, but the skin wasn’t broken and she’s not bleeding.  She rotates her wrist a few times and fortunately it doesn’t feel sprained, just a little sore.

“Scully!” Mulder calls.

“Yeah,” she answers, warily.

“Where are you?”

“In here.”  She can hear the crunching of the field grasses and leaves underfoot as Mulder approaches.  She pulls the cuff of her sleeve down over her wrist before pushing the leaves aside like drapery and steps out from the canopy.

“You have…”  Mulder approaches and reaches up to pluck a leaf from her hair.

“Thanks.”

“It matches,” he says, twirling the red leaf softly against the ends of her hair.

A breeze comes up again and that same whisper and tickle of her ear returns.  She shivers again and moves her hand up to take the leaf from Mulder, but he pulls it back and puts it in his pocket.

“Find anything interesting?” he asks.

“Bagged up some bark and some dirt.”

“You ask the tree if it was cursed?”

“I did.”

“What was the answer?”

“Stop letting your crackpot partner talk you into fruitless jaunts to the forest.”

Mulder chuckles.  “There is some poison oak in the woods up there.  You’ll be happy to know I steered clear.”

“Wonderful,” she says, wincing as her wrist burns slightly when she peels off her gloves.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You think those are storm clouds rolling in over there?”

She nods slightly, rotating her wrist in her pocket.  It’s beginning to itch.

“I guess we should probably head out then?”

“No argument from me.”

*****

They leave New Hampshire with nothing more than the samples and family legends.  Mulder finally accepts there isn’t much of a case to be had, especially when they can’t find any other afflicted locals to speak with, and they return home.  They run the samples through the lab, but the results don’t account for any toxins.

A week passes and Scully’s wrist doesn’t seem to stop itching.  It’s at its worst during the day at work and seems to calm at night when she goes home.  She sees a dermatologist who can’t find anything wrong, but gives her a prescription for an anti-itch cream that does nothing to help.

They’re out of town again, on a case in Iowa.  She shouldn’t be relieved to be doing autopsies again, but it’s been awhile since she’s been in a morgue and not out in the field.  She’s either too busy to notice her itching wrist, or it miraculously ceases to bother her for the day.  When she’s back at the motel, having a pizza dinner over crime scene photos and witness statements, her whole hand starts to feel like it’s on fire.  She excuses herself from the table and shuts herself in the bathroom.

By all outward appearances, nothing is wrong with her wrist.  It’s not inflamed, it’s not scratched, it’s not even red anymore, but her skin crawls.  She holds it up to the light and takes a closer look, running her thumb across the line where wrist meets palm.  There does seem to be a slight bump where there wasn’t one before.  She checks her left wrist in comparison and then the right one again.  When she scratches at the little bump with her nail, she can actually feel a slight pull under her skin.  She pushes at it with her thumbnail and then her skin ruptures and what looks like the stem of a leaf emerges.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.  There is a pair of tweezers in her toiletry kit that she finds and then plucks lightly at the stemp, but it doesn’t budge.  It doesn’t hurt and it doesn’t bleed and no matter how hard she pulls, the stem is immobile.  After only a few minutes she’s nearly in tears with frustration.  She wipes her watering eyes dry and then goes back to the table to rejoin Mulder.

“I need to show you something,” she says.

Mulder pauses with his hands full of photos and looks at her.  He sets them down and then wipes his hands on his pants and leans forward, elbows on the table.  “Okay,” he says.  “Show me.”

Scully pulls the sleeve of her shirt up and drapes her hand across the table, wrist up.  Mulder looks down at her hand and then up at her.  He moves his face closer to her arm and tilts his head from side to side.

“What am I looking at?” he asks.

“When we were in New Hampshire, I scraped my hand on that tree.”

“The Matchmaker?”

“Yes.  It wasn’t a bad scrape, no skin was broken, but since then, my wrist has not stopped itching.”

“What is that?”

“I don’t...I don’t know.  I tried using my tweezers on it, but it wouldn’t come out.”

Mulder picks up Scully’s hand with both of his and runs his thumbs across the bottom of her palm.  Her whole arm tingles when he touches her and she can feel something move beneath her skin.  

“It feels like...I’m not sure...”  Mulder puts a little more pressure on Scully’s wrist and slides one of his thumbs up to her palm.  Suddenly it feels like her whole hand opens up somehow and something unfurls out of her wrist like a butterfly to rest in her palm.  It’s a red, heart-shaped leaf.

They’re both silent, staring down at her hand, at the leaf.  Her arm still tingles and she sways slightly, lightheaded.   “Mulder…how did…?”

“I don’t know.”

“What just happened, Mulder, it’s impossible.”

“Well, there is one explanation.”

“Don’t say it.”

“You touched the tree.”

“A tree didn’t do this, Mulder.”  She jumps up from the table, determined to pull the leaf from her hand, but it’s stuck to the stem and the stem won’t budge.  “I need scissors.”

“Well wait, maybe you should see a doctor.”

“I am a doctor!”  She rushes back into the bathroom to get the small scissors from her toiletry bag.  Mulder follows behind and watches as she attempts to cut at the leaf and the stem, but the scissors just slide right off of the leaf as though it refuses to be cut.

“Stop,” Mulder says, putting his hands on her shoulders.  “Come on.”

“Mulder, there is a leaf growing out of my hand!”

“I can see that, come out here.”

Mulder guides her out of the bathroom back to the table, but she doesn’t want to sit.  She stares at her palm and at the leaf while Mulder sits and then he brings her towards him with his hands on her hips.

“Let me see,” he says.  

Scully reluctantly shows him her hand and he holds it gently, tracing the shape of the leaf in her palm with his index finger.  He pinches the leaf between his fingers and pulls gently and the stem slides out of her wrist without any effort at all.  When it’s completely free of her hand, she feels something wash over her that she can only describe as utter euphoria.  She sways slightly on her feet, leaning into Mulder and putting her hands on his shoulders to hold herself up.

“Scully?”  The leaf flutters to the ground as he grabs her hips.

“Oh, I feel…”

“Sit down.”  He stands and tries to urge her to sit, but she holds onto his arms and shakes her head.

“No, I…”  She feels overwhelmed by something she can’t describe, but the force with which she aches to be as close to Mulder as possible is powerful.  It’s like she can’t breathe, but he is oxygen.  It’s like she’s freezing and he’s a warm fire.

“I really think you should sit down,” he whispers.

“Mulder,” she says, blinking lethargically.  Her voice is slow and her eyes are heavy.  “If it was the tree, then that would mean…”

Mulder puckers his lips a little and his chin juts forward as he swallows.  “It would mean whatever you want it to mean,” he says.

Her heart hammers in her chest.  She tingles from head to toe, but especially where his hands grip her hips and where his arms press against hers.  She opens her mouth a few times, but doesn’t know what to say.

“I heard you, you know,” he says.

“Heard me?”

“When I was exposed to the artifact.”  He lets go of her with one hand to reach up and lightly touch his fingers to her forehead.  “I heard you.  I don’t need an enchanted tree to tell me what I already know.”

She should feel embarrassed, and maybe two months ago she would have, maybe even two minutes ago, she would have, but not now.  She drops her gaze to his mouth and then she looks up into his eyes again.  By some unspoken, mutual agreement, they both lean in.  Mulder bends and tips his head to the right, Scully lifts onto her toes and lets her eyes slip shut just before his mouth touches hers.  The kiss is soft and unhurried.  It’s tender and sweet in a way that makes her feel warm and secure.

“I can’t believe this is real,” she whispers against his lips.

“What part of it?”

“All of it.”

“Of course you don’t.”  He chuckles and bends down to pick up the leaf he dropped.  He twirls it between his fingers and then brushes it against her nose.

“It’s just not possible.”

“All of it?”  He cocks his head a little and his eyes fall to her mouth.

“Maybe not all of it.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m having a hard time believing it myself.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”  He smiles, and bends to kiss her again, but she leans away and puts two fingers against his lips.

“Why did you take me up there?” she asks.

“I’ve owed you a nice trip to the forest for about seven years.”

“Is that all?”  

“Autumn in New England?  I only wish we could’ve found something worthwhile to stick around a little longer.”

“So, you never intended for…”

“For you to start becoming part tree?  Not at all.”

“Oh my god, I just can’t...I can’t wrap my brain around it.  It’s…”  She covers her face with both hands and shakes her head.

Mulder kisses the knuckles on her right hand.  “You wouldn’t be you if you believed it.  Once upon a time there was a very skeptic little g-woman named Scully.”

“You are not allowed to start any stories with ‘once upon a time’ any longer,” she says, taking her hands away from her face.  “Bad things happen in fairy tales.”

“Well you are forgetting one thing though.”

“What?”

“They always end with ‘happily ever after.’”

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #definitely non canon #but set somewhere after The Sixth Extinction: Amor Fati #msr

[starkerforlife6969]

He’s Just Not that Into You- Starker AU

It's the first week of summer and Peter's got a date.

Jacob is nice, and Peter's changed his shirt three times, and the bar is warm on this June evening, and thriving. Dancing bachelorette parties, the game on the big screen tvs hanging from the ceiling and-

Jacob's twenty minutes late.

But that's fine, Peter's fine, he pulls at his cuffs, tucks a curl behind his ear, bites his lip, refuses the temptation to look at his phone.

Maybe he should call Ned, Ned would know what to do-

"You waiting for someone, gorgeous?"

Peter looks up, feels colour rush to his cheeks. Dark eyes, a mouth that's sinful, smirking, in a tight fitting shirt and- "Oh um, no-yes- I mean." Peter manages a smile. "I might've been stood up? But, he probably- something probably came up. Or maybe I had the date wrong."

Smirk looks at him. Sizes him up. "Let me buy you a drink, bambi." He says.

After two drinks, Peter Parker thinks Tony Stark might be his saviour.

He's twenty two, the same age as Peter, but he's got it all- got it all figured out.

"So- Jacob didn't really like me. The phone number was fake." He realises aloud.

"If the guy likes you," Tony nods sagely, sipping his dakiri, "he'll take your number and give you his. He gave you a fake number, bet he didn't ask for yours, right?"

Peter wilts a little. Sighing at his own foolishness. "Right. I thought we had a good time."

Tony reaches over to nudge him. "You need to know what to look for, that's all. When to reel them in. When to get keen. I know guys like you, sweet guys- no disrespect, but you take every little thing as some sort of sign. Oh, he smiled at me or he picked up my pen-"

"But he smiled at me and he did not smile at anyone else-"

"Pete," Tony chuckles, "romcoms have ruined you. Naive-"

"Optimistic."

"Naive." Tony insists, bright-eyed. "Just because you met in a library and you both reached for the same edition of Harry Potter at the same time-"

Peter smacks him. "You're such a Slytherin." He glares.

Tony winks at him. "Hufflepuff, you gotta know how to play the game."

Peter mixes his drink. Muses. "I didn't think love was a game." He admits softly, deflating. The bar's deflated a little now too. Emptier. The TVs are off. The music is quiet and gentle. Here are he and Tony, cluttered over a small table.

"Love is a game, Peter. And we're gonna help you win."

*

They stay there for a few hours yet. Going over Peter's past relationships. Flash, MJ, Gwen, Jacob-

Going over Peter's blind date tactics, how to read people, how to know when to cut the chord- but Tony doesn't mind Peter's bumbling idiocy. He likes helping people. And Peter's sweet, the sort of sweet Tony hasn't seen in a long time. That isn't available in the private boarding schools he grew up in. That wasn't allowed through the pristine hard wood front doors.

"Oh, hey," Peter says, slurring just a little. The drinks he'd had were mostly sugar, not alcohol. "It's empty- is it closed?" He gapes, looking around, all fawn-like.

"It's fine, bambi," Tony grins, sliding his arm under Peter's, guiding him to the door. "My dad owns the place. I'll lock up. You all good getting home?"

"I'll call a cab." Peter nods, wincing at the cool night air. Tony locks up, before turning to look down at his new friend.

"It's good meeting you, Pete." He says, grinning, and Peter beams up at him.

"I know you said not to read into anything, but- wouldn't it be romantic if we fell in love? Like, you saved me from being stood up-"

Tony clamps his hand over Peter's mouth, tutting fondly. This kid. "Not that kinda movie, sweetheart. I'll be the mentor. The guide. The Yoda to your Luke."

Peter nods, and Tony removes his hand. Peter smiles beatifically up at him. "Alright. Thank you, sensei. I will resolve to follow your council."

Tony likes him. Wants to see him do well. Had hated the sight of the kid (not a kid, the same age, but Peter doesn't seem it. Full of idealism and princess stories) being stood up. Tony wants to see him happy. In love. Not getting played. Just because it's not for Tony, doesn't mean he doesn't want Peter to have it. "Here, take my number." Tony says, taking Peter's phone, typing in his number and sending himself a text. "Call me whenever you have a question."

Peter takes the phone gratefully. Cradles it in his palm. "Take you up on that I will."

Tony flicks his head. "I'm Yoda, nitwit."

"Hurt that did." Peter pouts, and Tony laughs into the night air, and hopes Peter calls.

*

Beck is hot, hard muscle, and Peter's only slightly uncomfortable from his position being pinned on the couch- the bony arm rest digging into his back, but that's all fine, because Beck tastes like toothpaste and his hands make Peter shudder-

They'd met yesterday, at a coffee shop. They'd both reached for the pumpkin spiced latte. Had both laughed. Exchanged numbers. It was a perfect meet-cute.

And Beck had called Peter. He's reading all the signs right, he's sure of it.

Peter curses when his phone buzzes. His boss wants his article done by tonight. New deadline. He sighs, pulling out from Beck's grip. "Sorry," he says earnestly, "I've gotta go. My boss needs this."

Beck nods, flushed, half-hard, hair falling attractively into his face. "I get it, but you can do your work here? Hm? I'll order take out, you can spend the night..."

Beck's hands slide up Peter's shirt, massage the taut muscle there. Peter relaxes into the touch, just a little. "That sounds nice..." he confesses, before laughing, "but I would never get anything done with you here."

Beck kisses his neck, bristly, goose-bump inducing. "Would that be so bad?" He murmurs.

"I really can't..."

"It just sucks," Beck sighs, pulling away. "Because I'm going out of town tomorrow and won't be in touch for a while. I'll just miss you."

Out of town? Peter's head rings. He's not sure what to make of it. Is it a play? Does Beck like him? Does he just want sex? If Peter stays tonight, will he never see Beck again?

"Can I go to the bathroom?" He blurts, like he's in school and Beck blinks at him, bewildered, but gestures with his hand.

He finds Tony's number under Sexy Yoda which is just- mental images that Peter does not need right now- and he dials.

"Pete, you called." Tony says warmly, answering on the second ring.

"Oh hey, hi- Tony," Peter bleats, sitting on the bathtub and thrumming his fingers. "I'm in a situation- need advice."

"Ah, amazing- one sec." Then, quieter, "Hey, Pep, d'ya mind? I'll be back in 10."

"Hope I'm not interrupting!"

"Not at all. So, where we at?"

"Okay, so, making out- I say I have to go, he says I should stay- I say I can't- then he says that he'll be leaving tomorrow so will be out of touch."

"Run." Tony says immediately, and Peter's face falls.

"What? No," he whines, "What if he really is just going out of town?"

"Peter." Tony says, in that no-nonsense voice, "Where could he possibly be going in the world that would mean he couldn't talk to you over the phone? He wants a hook up. Do you want a hook up?"

Miserably: "No."

"Well then, like I said: Run."

Peter sighs. "So, he doesn't like me?"

"Sure he likes you. Likes the thought of you in his bed. Who wouldn't? You're very cute. But he does not want a relationship. I sure don't respect the guy for trying to trick you into it, I'm upfront with all my one-night stands. It's just sex: nothing more."

"I'm thrilled for you." Peter remarks dryly. "So, run?"

"Run."

Peter runs.

***

In yoga class, the new instructor, Stephen, compliments his form and then asks him out to dinner.

"Run." Tony says, mouthful of something, on his lunch break.

Peter pecks at his own chicken salad. "Why? We haven't even gone out yet."

"Pete, do I have to spell it out for you? Yoga? Bending over, flexibility, bet you've got tight yoga pants and everything."

Peter wipes a drop of dressing off his keyboard. "Not everyone is as physically minded as you are. Maybe he thought we'd get on."

"He's asked you out based on nothing but the way you look doing the downward dog. Waste of time."

"I think you're wrong. I'm going to meet him for dinner."

Tony sighs. It crinkles down the receiver with disapproval. "Go for it. I'll eagerly await your apology."

When Peter does apologise, two days later, Tony is nice enough not to rub it in.

***

Mr Jameson is tough on the edges, but a softie deep down, Peter knows that.

Which is why he tries not to let the very brutal edits on his latest piece get him down. They're all very fair. So, he works through them methodically, learning, trying to improve, and not let them get him down.

It's late afternoon, he's in the zone, when his phone buzzes.

He picks it up absentmindedly, one knee drawn to his chest on his bed, other hand still scrolling through the word document.

"Hello?"

"Hey Pete, how goes the search for love?"

"Tony." Peter beams, warm all over, pushing away his laptop and collapsing back into his pillows. "How are you?"

"Good, good, bar's busy. Dad's happy enough with me managing it. New receptionist hates me, though."

"Pepper?"

"Yeah. I told her it was just sex- she misread the signs. Don't be like her, Peter."

"If a person wants to be with you, they'll ask you out, they'll make it happen." Peter recites: Tony's number one rule.

"Atta boy. What about you? Jameson like your piece?"

"A few edits. I'm working through them now. Actually- the photographer, Eddy, he's nice, handsome, might be into me?"

"Might?"

"Well, I don't know. He's never said anything. Am I allowed to ask anyone out? Or is that against the rules?"

"You can definitely ask someone out." Tony hums, "just make sure you can read their response. Ask him out, if he's busy- he's not into you. If he leaps at the chance, well, you've nailed it."

"Okay," Peter nods, excited. "Where should I ask him to go? Dinner? Is that too boring?"

"Hockey game, a movie, hell, a stake-out, it doesn't matter, just don't read into anything that isn't there."

"I won't. Thanks for the help, Tony, really," Peter says, "And sorry to call you on a Saturday."

"No worries, Bambi. Let me know how it goes with Eddy."

"Let me know if Pepper forgives you!"

Peter falls back into his work. Doesn't realise until just before he goes to sleep that actually- Tony called him.

***

"He said no." Comes Peter's voice through the ear-piece, as Tony debates whether to make himself a kale or spinach smoothie at home later. Both packs of green look equally healthy.

Tony dumps them both in the basket. Ignores the guy leering at him in favour of turning Peter up a little. "I'm sorry, kid. But better you know now than later, right?"

When Peter speaks, his throat sounds clogged "I guess." He says forlornly.

Tony cocks his head. Listens. Thinks. "How far into that tub of Ben and Jerry's are you, Pete?"

A pause. Tony grins: got him.

"I'm not...It's chocolate Fudge. There's um..." a spoon scrapes again soggy paper, "not much left?"

"No wallowing, rule number two, you know that."

"I know." Peter whines, "but I thought he liked me, maybe he did- you know he said, he was going through something right now, a recent break up, but that maybe someday-"

"It's a brush off." Tony insists, "don't read into anything that isn't there-"

"Maybe he did really just-"

"Okay." Tony says, setting his basket on the conveyer belt and pinching the bridge of his nose. "We need to get you back on the horse. I know a guy who might be into you: Steve. Wholesome, boring sort. Your kind of guy?"

"Well, when you say it like that, how can I resist?"

Tony shakes his head, smiling. "C'mon now, he's handsome. Very American. Tall, blonde, served in the Army for a bit, now he's some sort of do-gooder activist."

"Well that doesn't sound- so bad."

"And the best part? I think he might like you."

"I was beginning to think that was impossible."

Tony hands over his card, snorting. "No pity parties. You're easy on the eyes. Got those big bambi ones, those little freckles, long legs too, considering you're so short. It's nice. It's a good look." He can picture it, actually, those long legs wrapped around his hips. Peter's slender neck, fluffy hair spread out over the pillow- he needs to get laid today. Again. "I'll invite him to dinner, introduce the two of you. How's tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Peter squeals, excited, the sound of an empty ice cream tub being tossed aside. "I haven't got anything to wear."

Tony thinks of Peter's cream skin. Of his honey eyes. "Something tight. Maroon if you have it, anything sheer. Please, for god's sake, not that mustard monstrosity."

"I love that sweater!"

Tony carries his bags out to the car, feels the warm sun beat down on his face. "Oh hey, it's kinda nice out." He realises.

Peter sighs contentedly over the line. "It really is. DJ Ravioli loves it."

Tony stops by his car. Closes his eyes. "Who the fuck," he says, "is DJ Ravioli?"

"It's my cat-"

"Of course," he laughs, getting into the car, turning on the AC. "Of course it is. In every Romcom, what does the main character have? Some ugly ass cat-"

"Hey!"

"And DJ Ravioli! What kind of a name is that?"

"He's such a cutie-wootie, yes you are my little ravioli-cannoli."

"Goodbye, Peter!" Tony yells, hanging up the call.

He can't stop smiling the rest of the way home.

***

Peter's early. That's because he was raised with Ben's if you're not early, you're late mantra, and now he's sitting in a fancy restaurant, fiddling with the tablecloth.

MJ's done his hair. Crimped and weird, but he thinks overall he looks okay. He's taken Tony's tips, in a thin, flouncy maroon shirt tucked into very tight jeans. He better not eat too much. Not sure he could if he wanted to.

"Good evening, Sir," says the waitress, eyes kind, "are you ready to order?"

"Oh um, not just yet," Peter smiles, "I'm waiting for..." he gestures to the two empty seats.

She nods, stepping back.

Oh god, is he being stood up again-

Relief and pleasure seeps through him as Tony appears. He's in a plain black sweater, but he might as well be a model in how it stretches over him. He leans down, pecks Peter's cheek (warm, he's warm, and he smells like cologne) before collapsing into one of the seats and gesturing the waitress over.

"I messed up, Pete," he says, by way of greeting, having a glance through the menu.

Peter blinks, a little dazed. "Huh?"

"Steve. He's not free tonight. I'll reschedule it, I promise."

"Oh." Peter nods, "okay, so-"

"It's just us two tonight, that alright? You can bear my company?" Tony wiggles his eyebrows, and Peter laughs. His nerves leave him, he can relax now.

"I think I can just about tolerate it. How's Pepper?"

Tony winces.

Peter laughs.

***

Tony, for all his playboy moves, is such a gentlemen, Peter thinks. He'd picked up the whole bill, hadn't given Peter a chance to offer half.

And now Peter's full of lobster, warm and sated, and Tony is a warm line of heat against his back as he unlocks his front door.

"Mm, it's cozy," Tony hums into his ear, as they shuffle inside and Peter closes the door, sleepy and a little- excited. To have Tony here, in his apartment, late at night- "Oh, there he is. Little monster."

And to Peter's surprise, Tony leans down and scoops DJ Ravioli into his arms. The fat cat barely protests, using the new position to stretch his spine.

Peter grins, can't help, it and takes a photo on his phone.

Tony glares at him.

"What?" He giggles, "I thought you didn't like cats."

"Never said I didn't like 'em," Tony hums, thumb rubbing beneath DJ Ravioli's ears, "just said they're a cliche, that's all. In every love story, there's the damn cat. And it hates the bad guy- scratches them up- and loves the good guy, because somehow, the cat knows who you're meant to be with."

Peter lifts his eyebrows. "Well, DJ Ravioli likes you."

"Guess I must be the good guy." Tony quips, rolling his eyes. He takes his own phone out then, arranging himself for a selfie. He'll send it to his mom. The cat blinks lazily at the camera.

Just as Tony takes the picture, Peter slides into frame, stretching onto his tiptoes, finger's bunny ears behind Tony's head.

Tony shoves him playfully. "You're a photo crasher, Peter Parker. A photo bomber. A fiend. A nightmare." He sets the cat down, watches his waddle away. "And you're overfeeding that cat."

Peter flips him the bird then, and is rewarded with Tony's loud bark of laughter.

They drink coffee, Tony judges the way Peter organises his kitchen, and then at 2am, Peter pouts and says:

"These jeans are really tight. Do you mind if I change?"

Tony sips his coffee, side-eyes him. "Don't try to seduce me, Parker."

Peter snorts, grateful to shuffle into his bedroom and peel the jeans off him. He pulls on his Hello Kitty Sweat Pants and an oversized science tee, feeling immeasurably more comfortable. He pulls on his fluffiest socks, feels a little bad he can't offer Tony something to wear. They'd all be too tight.

He presents himself with a twirl. "Seduction at it's finest." He teases, and Tony looks him over; something warm and soft in his gaze that makes Peter blush.

"It's not bad." Tony murmurs, turning back to his coffee cup.  "Well, it's-" he clears his throat, "late, Pete. I should go."

Peter wiggles his toes in his socks, wants to crawl into bed. "Okay. Thanks for dinner."

"Thanks for..." Tony looks around, chuckles. "Having me. You should come by tomorrow. See how the other, better half lives."

Peter walks him to the door. Tony stoops down to rub a knuckle along DJ Raviol's back. The tail wraps around his wrist. Tony disentangles himself gently. "Around 6?"

Tony beams at him. "Perfect."

***

When Peter wakes up in the morning, everything becomes clear.

Tony likes him.

He tries not to get swept away in the realisation of it. Tries to be rational, to follow the points.

1) Tony had given Peter his number and taken Peter's.

2) Tony calls him. They talk all night, sometimes. Tony's left dates, make-out sessions, to talk to Peter.

3) The mysterious 'Steve' that never showed up. Or perhaps, never existed at all.

Peter scribbles these into his notebook. Could it be? Tony's so...handsome. Clever. Funny. Why would he be into- but no-

Tony thinks he's handsome. Said so himself. Said Peter had bambi eyes (a pet name- that's a sign, Peter writes it down) and long legs. Said he looked nice in maroon.

They're saved under cute nicknames in each other's phone. DJ Ravioli likes Tony! And there's Tony eyes- something warm and soft that Peter sees from time to time.

And the fact that Tony saved him from being stood up. It's a perfect meet-cute.

Peter squeals. Tony's invited him over tonight. Never pressured him into sex- it must be something.

He spins on the kitchen stool and dreams of happily ever after.

***

The radio plays as they wash the dishes. Tony washes, Peter dries. Their hips bump.

It's nice, Tony thinks, as they hum along. His penthouse- big, empty, most of the times- except when he's having parties loud enough to upset the neighbours, but even those- they don't compare to this quiet company of Peter Parker.

Peter screeches as he hits a high note, so Tony turns the faucet on him, laughing as Peter splutters, slapping him with the rag.

Tony doesn't want to point out he he has dishwasher. He likes this.

Once they're done, he collapses onto the couch, watches as Peter ambles around before coming to stand in front of him. He looks thoughtful. He's wearing that gross mustard sweater that Tony kinda likes now, if only for the way it makes Peter looks soft and cuddly.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, trying to read Peter's mind. He's good at reading people, great at reading Peter, but not tonight. He can't quite gauge it.

Then Peter, in his ugly sweater, beautiful, with a grace Tony suspected but didn't know Peter possessed- straddles him on the couch, and kisses him.

Tony feels those long legs, spread wide over his own knees, feels the heat of Peter's core, those lily hands against his cheeks, that soft, soft mouth against his own.

He moans appreciatively, opening his mouth, taking control. His own hands coming to wrap around Peter's waist and-

"I knew it," Peter whispers, pleased as punch against his cheek, "we're in love."

Tony splutters, a cold wash of water against the pleasing heat that was working it's way down his body. "We're- what-" he pushes Peter away a little, from where those teeth were nipping his ear.

Peter sits back, still fucking straddling him, still looking as innocent as a wall-flower, one hand still poisoned above Tony's denim-clad dick. "We're in love," Peter repeats, beaming. "We're dating."

Tony scoffs, erection wilting. "Well, gee, Pete, was I ever gonna know about any of this? In what universe are we dating?"

"We-" Peter frowns, swallowing hard. "I- you liked me? The signs-"

"What signs?!" Tony fumes, pressure mounting, pushing on his chest. "Jesus Christ, Pete." He pushes Peter off him, gets to his feet. "What the fuck?"

"I..." Peter sits, mussed, on the couch, staring up at him. "You- you took my number. You call me, S-Steve didn't show up- you- you- we talk all night, we made dinner, we washed up- you came over- I thought-"

"What did I say? What did I say?" Tony hisses, raking his hands through his hair. "If a guy is into you, Peter, he will ask you out. Or you ask him out. Did I ask you out?"

Peter eyes are swimming with tears. He looks flushed with humiliation and great, now Tony's a massive jerk. "N-no."

"Peter." Tony can't look at him, turns and bangs his head against the wall. "Why- why do people do this? Read into nothing. There is nothing between us but friendship. And now..." he whirls back to Peter accusingly. "Now you've ruined our friendship. You look for all these tiny, insignificant moments. I gave you my number because I wanted to help you, Steve genuinely couldn't make the day, I invited you over here because we're friends. I've never made a move on you, never asked you out, and you've never asked me out. You know, you know I don't do relationships. Why? Why do people think that they're the exception? You're not the exception, Pete, you're not gonna change me. You're the rule, and the rule is: if I liked you, I would've asked you out. But I didn't, so I don't."

He has to catch his breath once he's done. Peter's still sitting there, eyes watering- but not crying. The air is tense. Thick.

"God, Pete," Tony says gently, "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but- no. We're not in a relationship. We're not dating. I'm not into you."

They're mean. Cruel words. But they're true. Tony's a straight-forward, up-front kind of guy. He turns to his kitchen, pours himself a drink. Fuck, what a night.

"I don't want to be like you." Comes the quiet voice from the living room.

Tony sets down the brandy, whirls towards Peter with a scoff. "Excuse me?"

Peter looks up at him, still red-faced, but brave. "I don't want to be like you. Going around, using people. Never finding love, never looking for it. Never getting- excited at a smile, or wondering what your life with someone might be like. I like hoping. I like dreaming and meet-cutes, and big, unrealistic romantic gestures, I like that."

Tony sneers, shaking his head. "Fine. I'll be over here, living in the real world."

Peter gets to his feet, grabs his bag, wipes his face. "You do that, Tony, you live all alone in the real world. You won't find any happiness like that."

"At least I won't get rejected twice a week!" Tony yells, as Peter heads for the door.

Peter turns back, hand on the door knob, angry. "I'd rather get rejected knowing that it means I'm closer to my happily ever after. I'll take rejection after rejection, Tony."

"Well done," Tony claps, "this is another one to add to your dossier."

The door slams and Tony's alone and there's no one to yell at so he throws his glass of brandy across the kitchen. The stupid sturdy glass doesn't even break, the liquid just drips down onto the tile and he'll have to clean it up later.

*

It's been three days.

Surely Peter's still not angry with him after three days. Sure, Tony said some stuff, but it was- heat of the moment. They're friends.

He rubs his temples, puts down the paper work- can't read the words. He needs to sign off on payrolls, order more stock, sort out the overtime policy-

He takes out his phone. No messages. No calls.

The door opens, and Pepper walks in, professional, the last dredges of her anger with him mostly gone. "Hey Tony, a few more for you to sign." She sets down the papers.

"Thanks," he mutters. No DMs on twitter. Nothing on instagram. He opens Facebook.

"Oh my god."

Tony looks up, startled at Pepper's expression of delight. "What?" He asks, eyes flicking down- nothing on Facebook. Email, maybe?

"Who are they?"

"Who are who?"

"The special someone." She laughs, eyes bright with disbelief. "Who's got you checking your phone obsessively, wondering when they'll call."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tony says, putting his phone away. "You may go."

"You haven't been able to concentrate all day," she muses, perching on the edge of his desk, perfectly comfortable. He misses the days she couldn't stand to be in the same room as him. "You put Javier on dishes and Rebecca at the bar- rookie error. You keep asking if anyone's called the bar for you- you haven't shaved. And is that the same shirt as yesterday-"

"No." Tony says emphatically, self-conscious and sweaty, "just go. Please."

Pepper gets to her feet, laughs again. "The world of love. Welcome to it, asshole."

When she's gone, Tony sits there. Fingers itching for his phone.

"Shit." He mutters to himself.

***

He sends Peter a message. A text. He says: Pete, I'm sorry about what happened. Can we talk? Brunch, maybe? I want us to be friends.

He doesn't get an answer.

He wants to hurl his phone against the wall in frustration. What the fuck.

He paces relentlessly. Keeps his phone charged.

Peter posts on instagram, it's a photo of DJ Ravioli asleep in a sunbeam, with the caption another nice, sunny day

What does that mean? Tony had said to Peter once that it was a nice day- is this a reference to that? A secret meaning? Should he like the photo? Should he not?

He finds himself driving past Peter's apartment late at night. Sometimes the lights are on. Sometimes they're not.

Tony wonders if he's eating ice cream. If he's in those stupid pyjamas. If Jameson liked the latest revisions. Wonders if he's petting the cat.

Wonders if he's thinking about Tony.

His phone buzzes, and he nearly drops it in his haste to check it.

It's from his mom.

Sorry, got a new phone, didn't see this till just now- what a cutie! Is he yours? (I don't mean the cat), you look so happy, sweetheart. Also, are you eating enough? Your dad says hi!

Tony clicks on it. Sees the photo he sent her. Captured mid-laughter, Tony is beaming, face turned to Peter, who's gorgeous, beaming, lovely-

Tony looks at his own expression. Has he ever looked at someone like that before? The way he's looking at Peter in this photo?

He does look happy. He looks...home.

*

"-ey Tony. Is this recording? Hey Tony, it's Steve! I just wanted to let you know I ran into Peter- your Peter- at the flower garden in Harlem today. How crazy is that? Must be fate. He's amazing, you're a matchmaker. We've got a date tonight- I'll let you know how it goes!"

Tony listens to the message three times. A voice mail, of course, because Steve might as well be from the 1940s.

There's a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. What does that mean? That the very person Tony thought Peter would get on with is the one he bumped into in Harlem? In a flower garden. Peter was probably surrounded by foxgloves, ridiculously beautiful in his dandelion cardigan, streaks of suncream still on his face.

Maybe Steve had come up to him, said that Peter was a more beautiful view than the flowers. Steve is gross like that.

And Peter probably- probably liked it. Thought Steve was handsome, because Steve is. Probably blushed the way he blushes whenever someone compliments him, like he never received enough. The amount he deserved. Probably said something lame like "you're not so bad yourself."

He wonders how Peter reacted when Steve brought Tony up, brought up their link. Their almost.

Did he ask about Tony? Steve's message hadn't said anything- so Peter obviously hadn't said anything bad. That must mean something.

Going out tonight. Peter's going out tonight.

Tony doesn't want Peter to go out tonight. He wants to lie in Peter with bed, with that fat cat, and watch TV and talk and order Chinese. Wants to kiss Peter- wants to-

"Oh," he whispers, fingers shaking, he presses his hands together. This is love. He's in love. With Peter. He's been in love with Peter since-

He remembers the sight of him at the bar. Beautiful. Sweet. Idealistic like Tony couldn't believe and-

Goddamn it. Tony's loved him the moment he first laid eyes on him.

And he's fucked it all up.

***

He sees Steve on the way up. He hides behind a plant, peeks out behind leaves. Steve is whistling, smiling, pleased. Okay, well, so, they had a good date- but Peter didn't let him in for a nightcap. That must mean something.

Tony hurries upstairs, heart pounding. He knocks on the door of Peter's apartment, tries to control his hair and-

"Oh good, you forgot your coat!" Comes Peter's voice, pleased, and the door opens and-

It's Peter.

He's in Steve's coat. It's draped over his shoulders. There's stardust in his eyes, he's wearing chinos and a hideous flannel shirt and-

"Peter." Tony breathes, wants to kiss him. Wants to pull that coat off him and burn it.

Peter stands firm in the door. Doesn't move to let him in. His face closes off. "What are you doing here, Tony?"

"I can't sleep," he blurts, aware of the wreck he must look. "Can't eat. Can't think straight. I keep- driving past this place, wondering if you're up, what you're doing, if you're thinking about me. I keep- wanting to call. To find any excuse to- I keep replaying all our- moments, I'm- I'm becoming-"

"Me." Peter finishes, he looks up at Tony with his huge eyes.

"Bambi," Tony whispers, and Peter flinches away, shaking his head.

"Tony, I just...I just went on a date with Steve-"

"I know." He whispers. Hating himself already. He's left it too late. Should've come sooner, should've realised earlier.

"And I think he- he actually likes me, Tony. He doesn't see love like it's a game, he calls when he says he'll call and he's not scared of relationships-"

"I'm not scared anymore." Tony whispers, taking another step forward, "I can be yours-"

"But you didn't want to be!" Peter cries, shaking his head. Pain etched across his face, and Tony remembers his words. How cruel, how wrong he was. "I threw myself at you, and you didn't want me-"

"I was wrong. I was wrong, Pete, and you were right. About everything. I didn't- I'm so used to doing the same thing, of keeping people at arms length, that when I actually fell-" the words choke in his throat, "-in love- I didn't- I didn't know. I didn't realise."

Peter stares at him, closes his eyes. There's a long beat of silence. "Tony," he whispers, composing himself, "a wise Yoda once told me that if someone wants to date you, they'll make it happen. That I'm the rule, not the-"

He can't take it. Not another moment. Not another unbearable second of Peter thinking that Tony doesn't want him-

So, he kisses him.

It's awkward, and desperate, and then- gentle. He cradles Peter's face in his hands, kisses him long, and slow and endless. Tries to pour all the love, and the hope and the fire he's been carrying for Peter since the moment he saw him.

When they pull apart, Tony doesn't step back. Stays close. Hopeful. Pleading.

Peter's eyes flutter open, like a prince in a fairytale, like the leading star in a romance. "I'm the exception," he whispers, hands on Tony's chest.

Tony's heart thunders with truth. "You are my exception." He breathes, pulling Peter and his gorgeous smile in for another kiss. His hands push Steve's coat from off his shoulders, he steps on it for good measure, and he swallows Peter's laughter, nearly trips over DJ Ravioli, and kicks the door shut behind them.

*

They spend the next day in bed, watching tv, and they order Chinese food.

Peter checks his work emails, and Tony reaches over and kisses him like he can't help it. Peter laughs, kissing back for a moment, before pulling away. "Am I that irresistible?" He teases.

Tony looks up at him from his side of the bed, eyes earnest. "Yes." He says solemnly. "You are."

"Does that mean I get the last spring roll?"

Tony winces. "I already gave it to the cat."

"Oh well," Peter sighs, collapsing into Tony's arms, tossing the phone away. "You'll just have to make it up to me somehow."

Tony starts to pepper him with kisses. Hands slip under Peter's shirt. "I can do that. I can do that every day for the rest of our lives."

Peter hums, vibrating with glee, "and is this the first day of Happily Ever After?"

"Baby," Tony grins, brushing the cat hair from Peter's forehead, and kissing him again, and again, "I think it just might be."

#starker #peter x tony #young tony #romcom au #angst with a happy ending #mutual pining #he's just not that into you au #precious peter parker #tony stark has a heart

[thefandomsinhalor]

Title: What the Heart Misses

Author: thefandomsinhalor

Written for: @destielsecretsanta2020​ 

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Castiel/ Dean Winchester

Word count: 5K

Rated G | No Archive Warnings Apply | Canon Divergent | Dean Winchester Loves Castiel | Gift Exchange | Sam Knows | S15E14 - Last Holiday | Fluff | Christmas | No Empty Deal |

Summary: 

After learning that the Winchesters and Jack celebrated Christmas with Mrs. Butters, Castiel takes the opportunity to give Dean a Christmas present. Which then prompts Dean to reflect on the nature of their bond.

Merry Christmas to @castielsbeeslippers​​  😊💜💙 (surprise!!) who wanted a fluffy fic with Cas and bees! I hope you like it!!

Read on AO3

----

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a gift. For you.”

Dean, sipping on his morning coffee in the bunker’s kitchen, shot a suspicious glance at Castiel when his friend placed a flashy green box with a big red bow on it in front of him.

“Yeah, I got that, Cas. I mean, why are you giving me a present? It’s not Christmas or my birthday.”

“That’s true. But Jack mentioned that you celebrated the holiday the other day with Mrs. Butters. We were discussing the concept of Christmas and that got me thinking. I realized that I had never taken part in the tradition before. So, I thought of changing that even if I missed the celebration the other day.”

“That’s, um, nice.” And then, Dean immediately felt the need to add, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“And yet, I did,” he said calmly.

Unsure what to say, Dean simply nodded at him, and after gently putting down his cup, he began undoing the bow. He had to admit that he was partially curious to see what Castiel, of all people, could have possibly thought of giving him as a Christmas present.

Almost nervous about it, he was surprised, however, by the actual contents of the box.

Ties.

Three of them.

Made of soft woven silk.

And all three of them had bees depicted on them.

A golden yellow one, with honeycomb print at the bottom and a few bees near the top.

Another one that was a charcoal color, with tiny bees serving as pattern all over the tie. So small, in fact, they barely seemed like bees, which rendered the tie surprisingly classic-looking.

And one blue tie, with a few doodled bees on it.

Which was instantly Dean’s favourite.

Smiling at the corner of his mouth, after eyeing Castiel briefly, he picked up that last one to examine it closer.

It was far from being something he would have selected for himself. After all, flannel and jeans were more his style over suits to begin with, even less so the overly fashioned ties.

And yet, the fact that Castiel had apparently taken the time to choose these specifically for him could not do anything short of bringing a smile to his lips.

“Bees, huh?”

“I tried to find ones with patterns of pies, but I didn’t succeed. I thought—you don’t have to wear them if you feel they will clash with your suit. I simply wished to offer you an alternative.”

Keeping his eyes on the tie, Dean said, “I like them, Cas. Thank you. Can’t wait to try it on.”

And Dean had meant every word. Just over a week later, when he and Sam were sharing a quick lunch with Donna, while reviewing a possible case involving a wraith down in Rochester, Dean had made sure to tuck a napkin into his collar to not soil his blue tie with bees. Once he was done with his bacon cheese burger, which had been delicious, and wanted to study more properly the files Donna had brought them, he pushed his plate aside and freed himself of his napkin.

“Oooh, that’s a neat tie you got there, Dean,” said Donna.

Mildly grinning, he said, “I know.” He lifted his eyes from the document and added, “Cas gave it to me. I know it’s not super ‘professional-looking’ but I thought, what the hell? Why not?”

“He also kind of really likes it,” said Sam, harboring his most serious expression that Dean and everyone else knew was fake. “Like, really likes it. He wore it every day this week.”

Smirking, Donna nodded. “Gotcha.”

Suddenly feeling somewhat exposed, Dean cleared his throat. “I—so? What if I did?” Then, as he fixed his tie, he added, more to himself than to the others, “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Of course, there’s nothing wrong with that, Dean. I wasn’t suggesting there was. Quite the opposite, actually.” Seemingly about to elaborate further on his viewpoint, Sam then turned quiet and stabbed his salad with his fork, adopting a casual attitude.

Dean frowned at his brother. His patent change of behaviour hadn’t fooled him. It was clear that Sam had more to say on the subject and Dean was now curious to hear his opinion. He let the matter go, however, when Donna received a phone call informing her that another body had been found, thus prompting the trio to abruptly end their lunch and return to work.

He came back to the topic by the evening though. With the case closed and behind them, they warmly said goodbye to Donna, and soon after they hit the road to return to the bunker, Dean asked, “Why were you giving me crap about liking my tie?”

“I wasn’t. I’m honestly glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Good. Because I am. It was really thoughtful of him to do this.”

“No argument there. I don’t want to say I’m surprised, but…yeah, I really like the book he gave me too.”

“What?” Dean glanced at him, while also carefully keeping an eye on the road. “What do you mean? What book?”

“For Christmas,” said Sam as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“He—he gave you a present too?”

“Yeah. And Jack.” Sam observed him for a moment and then, assessing Dean’s mild confusion, he asked, “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His eyes back on the road, he fell silent for as long as he could, until he blurted out, “What kind of book? And what did he give Jack?”

“Um, he—he gave Jack a Star Wars movie collection. He’s been going through them again all week long in—”

“—in the Dean Cave,” said Dean, now understanding where the kid disappeared to in the evenings. “Good thing Mrs. B. fixed the TV.”

“Yeah.”

“And what was yours?”

“I got a book about the most notorious serial killers of the past decade.”

Dean blinked. “Wow. That’s—yeah. That’s…tell the truth: had you read it before?”

“No. It just came out a few weeks ago. And it’s really cool. I’m on the chapter about H. H. Holmes, and I gotta say, considering our insight about the guy, it’s riveting.”

Amused at his brother’s weird interest, Dean shook his head. And while he had other questions regarding Sam’s opinion on Castiel’s presents, his train of thought took a turn when something else occurred to Dean.

Particularly once he compared the gifts.

“You okay?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah. Just—it’s been a long day and I can’t wait to be home, that’s all.”

On the following morning, after a few not-so-restful hours of sleep, Dean got frustrated from all the tossing and turning, so he left his warm bed and hurried to the kitchen in order to get the day started.

The room was spotless, and just as he had predicted, he found Mrs. Butters already waiting for him.

“Good Morning, Dean.”

Wishing her the same, he took a seat at the table. She quickly put down a plate with a western omelette and fruits on the side, as well as a cup of freshly brewed coffee for him.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. But despite being famished, Dean froze, utensils in hands, and simply stared at his plate.

“Not hungry this morning?”

“No. I am. I—I don’t know.” He put down his fork and knife and let out a deep sigh.

“Oh, dear. Would you like a grilled cheese instead?” she asked and seemingly manifested another plate out of thin air.

“For breakfast?” he said, trying to contain his glee (and failing at it).

“Why not?” She delicately dropped the plate in front of him. “You look like you could do with some cheering up.”

“Is this your way of telling me I look like crap?” he asked her, already chewing on his sandwich, which prompted Mrs. Butters to squint at him about manners.

“I feel like a few additional hours of sleep would have done you good, yes.” She returned to the stove where a few pots and pans were sizzling and boiling. But she kept her stare on him. “Anything the matter?”

That was the question.

He didn’t want to admit it, but his conversation with Sam had bothered him. While he was delighted at the thought that Castiel had been generous with Sam and Jack as well, something that didn’t surprise Dean that profoundly, this revelation had forced him to re-evaluate his own present.

And the more he thought about it, the more it left him with a pit in his stomach.

What Castiel had chosen for Sam and Jack had been perfect for them. If he was honest, Dean wasn’t sure he could have done better himself. Jack had been geeking out about Star Wars since basically his fourth day on this earth, and Sam had his odd fascination about serial killers. Perfect.

And then, there was his present.

Ties with bees on it.

Not exactly something that “screamed” Dean.

And yet, for some reason, Dean had genuinely enjoyed the ties. He had been touched by his kindness and attention. And while ties and bees weren’t things Dean held a deep fascination for, he knew that it was, in some ways, an interest to Castiel.

And that had meant something to him.

Until, that was, he learned of Sam and Jack’s presents.

Now, he felt like his gift was impersonal. Like Castiel hadn’t know what to give him, so he had picked the first thing he had thought of.

And that, above all, bothered Dean. It saddened him, even. Not that he believed himself superior to the others, but Dean, for quite some time now, had been under the impression that he might be something else to Castiel.

“What’s the matter, dear?”

“Oh, um, no—nothing.” He took another bite of his tasty grilled cheese.

Mrs. Butters left her pots once more and joined him at the table, sensing his hesitation.

“Now, now. Something is troubling you. What is it?”

Shifting on his seat, he said, “Not important.”

Unsatisfied with his lie, she took his plate and the second half of the grilled cheese with it.

“Hey!”

“You will get it back as soon as you answer truthfully.” She gave him a menacing look.

Annoyed, Dean momentarily considered abandoning the rest of his grilled cheese to save himself from an awkward conversation.

But his stomach growled and he knew it was a lost battle.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll tell you. Can I have my sandwich back though? Please?”

She held her severe stare for a little longer, assessing his words, and once she judged his tone to be honest, she nodded and returned his plate to him.

“So, I have this—you know who Cas is, right?”

She nodded. “Your friendly angel. Jack’s third adoptive father.”

“Um. Yeah. I—I—him.”

“What about him?”

“Well, he—after you made Christmas happen, Cas gave me—us—Christmas presents.”

“How kind!” she said joyfully.

“Yeah.”

He swallowed hard.

“It wasn’t?”

“It’s just…I’m—I loved the gift—I’m just confused as to why he gave me this.”

“May I ask what it was?”

Dean told her.

Mrs. Butters studied him for a moment and then said, “Were you hoping for something else? Something specific in mind?”

She had said it in such a playful tone it had almost made Dean feel uncomfortable.

Transparent, one might have said.

“I wasn’t expecting anything at all. So, no. No—nothing specific.”

“But you are disappointed.”

“I—I don’t know. No. I’m just…I was happy about it because I—I thought it might have meant—but now I feel like I may have misunderstood.”

“Hmm.”

Desperate to avoid her stare, Dean returned to his grilled cheese, feeling embarrassed by the nature of the discussion.

It was too early in the morning for this.

He remained with his eyes glued to the table for a short time. Once his plate was empty, however, he had no choice but to glance at her.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” she finally asked him.

“What?”

“You say that your friend gave you a present, which you really loved, but that you are now questioning the original intent of the gift. Correct?”

He nodded, determined to not lower his eyes.

“It seems to me that you need to shed light on the situation. So, how do you suggest to go about it?”

This question brought Dean a worrisome thought. Exciting, in parts, but worrisome.

“I—I was thinking that, um, maybe—” he started saying, but the rest of his sentence died in his throat.

“Maybe what?”

“I—I was just thinking that maybe I should do the same. Maybe I should get him something.” He cleared his throat and awkwardly looked to his left, even though nothing remotely interesting was happening there. “Maybe that will, um, help clarify a few things that I—yeah.”

“That’s a wonderful idea.”

Dean let out a short laugh, feeling embarrassed more than ever, as he was deeply praying that Sam—or anyone else, really—would never hear of this conversation.

“What kind of gift were you thinking of?” she asked, utterly invested.

“I—I have no idea.”

“Do you intend to give him something practical? Something he may need?”

Dean pursed his lips. “Not really. It’s not like he really needs anything…he’s an angel.”

“I see. Then, something he enjoys, perhaps? Does he have any type of hobbies?”

“Not…that I know of. He likes bees. And emoticons. And…yeah.”

After a short pause, she then said, “If Castiel doesn’t need anything material, perhaps you can offer him something else, then?”

Swallowing, Dean said, “Like what?”

“I don’t know, dear. He’s your friend. You should know what would please him. As they say, it’s the thought that counts. You are worried that you might have misunderstood something. Perhaps you didn’t. So, think back on the present he gave you and how you felt about it. A nice gesture to symbolize how you feel? That might be a step towards the right direction.”

Following Mrs. Butters’ advice, Dean took time to reflect greatly on the matter at hand. Gifts. Feelings. Meanings.

Which made him even more confused than before.

The fact was that he had previously given Castiel presents. He had even done so on a few occasions, actually. Just never on Christmas. He had done so randomly and simply because he had felt like it at that moment.

Like when he had gotten him a cowboy hat in Dodge City.

And the mixtape.

Of course.

Which Dean didn’t want to dwell on too much. Even if he had meant it. And had certainly not regretted it.

But now, in this context, remembering what Mrs. Butters had told him about his intentions, Dean found the task rather pressuring.

The main problem was that most of everything that came to Dean’s mind that could qualify as “a nice gesture” were things that he would have no problem doing under any circumstances. Which, in his opinion, lessened the effect.

Well, almost everything.

There were certain ideas that could potentially work. They would definitely make some things clear. Be that as it may, Dean wasn’t entirely sure that was the way he wanted to go at this. Mainly because he wasn’t convinced that Castiel would necessarily find it charming—for the lack of a better word—nor did Dean, for the time being, want to get ahead of himself.

One problem at a time.

From the moment the darn ideas had set into his head, however, it had been difficult to get rid of them, to the point that it had rendered him distressed.

Which was why he decided, quite beside himself, to ask Sam for help.

“So, I was thinking,” said Dean, attempting to sound casual, but inevitably failing at it, “since Cas’s been through the trouble of getting us something, maybe we should do the same.”

Sam, not lifting his eyes from his book, nodded. “Cool.”

In the hope that his brother would share a little more insight on the matter, Dean remained still, waiting for Sam to start his usual brainstorming session.

But nothing.

He simply turned the page of his book. He continued reading, sitting across the table. He didn’t say anything.

Annoyed, Dean said, “Any ideas?”

“What do you want to get him?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m talking to you right now.”

Finally looking at him, Sam said, sighing, “Dean, I’m sure Cas will be happy no matter what you give him.” When it was evident to Sam that Dean hadn’t liked his answer, he added, “You know that you don’t have to get him anything, right? It’s not an obligation.”

Shifting in his seat, Dean said, “Maybe…. maybe I want to. Maybe I—I’ve been meaning to for a while.”

Diverting his eyes, as he knew full well Sam was most undoubtedly staring at him, he waited for him to comment, perhaps tease him, even. But to Dean’s surprise—and relief—Sam did no such thing.

“Dean, if you’re getting at what I think you are—and about freaking time, by the way—I’ll help you. But I really think it ought to come from you. You know?”

Dean nodded shyly, agreeing with Sam’s point.

They remained silent for a brief moment, until Sam, taking pity on his brother, shut his book and said, “How about we go into town? You can check out a few of the local shops on Main Street? I was gonna go later this afternoon for a bit of groceries anyway. Browsing might give you some ideas.”

Dean let out a massive sigh of relief and thanked his brother.

Even though he had difficulty believing that he could find something worthy of an angel of the Lord at a local gift shop.

And his assumption turned out to be correct.

Clothing stores. Bakeries. Electronics. And so on.

None were offering him good ideas.

Some options? Yes.

But again, not the best ones. Not what Dean wanted to convey, at the very least.

Getting slightly discouraged, he was about to leave a quirky coffee shop he had stopped by for refueling, when something on display caught his eye next to the cash register.

A tiny object. An ornament. It wasn’t jewelry. Not exactly. Nor was it flashy. It was simple and effective.

And, more importantly to Dean, it held a sort of statement. Perhaps in an old kind of way. And yet, Dean liked it.

It was perfect.

And then, he spotted another item, which he believed could be complimentary. And Dean knew this was what he needed to get Castiel.

The only aspect left to figure out was when to execute the gift exchange.

Of course, Dean could have simply waited until the next time they saw each other or simply called him on his way back to the bunker.

And while that was what he ultimately did, Dean was then blessed with another idea that could make the exchange far better and less random.

But for that he needed the help of Sam, Jack and Mrs. Butters.

And so, a few hours later, after the others had agreed with his plan, he dressed up—wearing his tie, of course—called Castiel and invited him to the bunker.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Nothing’s wrong. We just—come by. We have something planned.”

Puzzled at the mystery, but nonetheless inclined to oblige, Castiel joined them a few hours following Dean’s call.

And witnessing Castiel’s surprised expression when he entered the bunker had been worth the effort and the wait of the first part of his plan, Dean thought.

“What’s all this?” said Castiel, pointing at the garlands on the ramp. And the Christmas lights around the ceiling. And the large tree in the middle of the war room.

“Mrs. Butters was about to move on to the next holiday, but, um, I—I was hoping we could get a redo before that. So you could enjoy it with us this time around, I mean.”

“That’s…very considerate and inclusive, as it was unnecessary,” said Castiel, nearly apologetic.

“Dean’s right,” said Sam. “Although we hadn’t planned to celebrate, it was kind of a bummer that you weren’t there when we did.”

“And then you were nice enough to offer us presents, which you really didn’t have to. So, I—we thought we could have another go at it. With you this time.”

Castiel, now at the bottom of the stairs, was staring at Dean with a warm expression. His eyes fell on his tie, and he smiled shyly.

“It won’t be an exact replica of how we celebrated the first time around—”

“Mainly because we didn’t want to seem either ungrateful and too capricious to Mrs. Butters,” said Sam, cutting his brother off.

“I would have done it properly, Samuel!” she exclaimed, sounding offended.

“Though she keeps insisting she would have done it,” said Dean under his breath.

“But close enough,” said Sam firmly over his brother’s voice, wanting to put the matter to rest.

After taking another look around the room, with a genuine grin on his face, Castiel thanked them. “That’s very kind of the both of you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Sam. And as he offered him an eggnog, he added, “Just also want to let you know that, while this,” to which he gestured to the room, “was also Jack’s and Mrs. Butter’s doing, as much as mine and Dean’s, it was primarily Dean’s idea though.” And then he added in the most awkward way, “I’m gonna go check on Jack now.”

And made himself scarce.

Mrs. Butters along with him.

Thus, leaving Castiel and Dean alone.

“Is what Sam said true?” asked Castiel, taking a step towards him. “You did this?”

“It was about time we had Christmas together, no?”

Taking a deep breath, Castiel stared at him for a long time. “Again, thank you.”

“No problem. But this is just the beginning.”

“What else have you planned?”

Smiling mischievously, Dean said, “You’ll see.”

The next few hours were filled with jubilation. Mrs. Butters had them carolling, they nearly fell into a sugar coma, and participated to a gingerbread house contest, dutifully orchestrated by Mrs. Butters.

Everyone had a great time. Beaming at one another, they shared a sumptuous meal, which had been prepared by the Winchesters and Jack—not just Mrs. Butters.

They also played games afterwards. Mrs. Butters beat all of them at cards. Sam dominated in Trivia. And while Castiel and Jack failed to understand the concept of Mad Libs, they had both somehow managed to create the most hilarious and nonsensical stories Sam and Dean had ever had the pleasure to hear.

Enjoying himself as much as he was though, Dean felt jitters multiplying within his chest as the evening progressed. He caught himself staring at Castiel more times than would be deemed acceptable, and when they exchanged looks, Dean wasn’t able to do anything but beam at him.

He eagerly awaited an opportunity to give Castiel his present in private.

He almost had done so when everyone had busied themselves by bringing back the dishes to the kitchen. Pulling Castiel aside for a brief moment would have been plausible.

But not ideal.

He seriously contemplated the option to do the same when Sam went to help Jack find some additional board games that they had stashed in one of the storage rooms, but he doubted that they would be gone for very long. And sure enough, Dean had barely had the time to pour himself and everyone else another eggnog before Jack burst into the room, carrying an impressive number of boxes.

But at last, Dean got his chance during Monopoly. Despite everyone’s investment into the game, the general vibe surrounding them was of a mellow mood. So, after retiring from the game because of bankruptcy, and noting that Castiel was soon going to suffer the same fate, Dean momentarily left the room to fetch his present.

He had carefully left it on his bedroom’s desk.

Biting his bottom lip, he stared at the small red box. He pondered one last time on his choice.  

It was a common enough item, like the ties.

And like the ties, to him, it meant something.

And more than anything, Dean couldn’t wait to see what Castiel would think of it.

The anxiety rose within him.

He was satisfied with his choice.

And there was now only one thing left to do.

Dean needed not venture too far though. Just as he exited his room, Castiel turned the corner in the hallway.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Sam and Jack got the better of you too, huh?”

Castiel came to a halt once he had reached him.

“It appears that I lack financial skills.”

“It happens to the best of us,” said Dean, smirking. But after noticing a hint of uneasiness in Castiel’s eyes, he said calmly, “Everything okay?”

“More than okay. I really enjoyed the evening, thank you.”

“Awesome. I’m glad, Cas.”

“I simply wanted to let you know before you decided to turn in.”

“Oh,” said Dean, glancing behind him. “I wasn’t. Not yet, anyway.” And then at Castiel’s mild perplexity, he added, “I—I actually came to get this.”

He retrieved the little box from his pocket where he had stashed it moments ago, took a look in the hallway, wanting to be sure no one else was seemingly listening, and presented it to Castiel.

“It’s for you. Merry Christmas.”

As his eyes fell on the present, Castiel seemed genuinely surprised by this.

“You didn’t have to do this. The evening was wonderful, I told you.”

“You got me something. I wanted to do the same.” He slightly lifted his hand to incite Castiel to take possession of it.

Which he did, right after returning a warm smile at Dean.

He observed the box for a second, almost as though he was trying to guess what was in it, and began pulling on the thin string.

“Oh, just—before you open it, can I ask a question?”

Castiel stopped and nodded.

“Why did you give me ties? I love them,” he added promptly. “I just—why?”

“Why do you ask?”

After a short hesitation, but determined to be honest, he said, “I heard about what you gave Sam and Jack. I was just curious how you came to decide on that.”

Castiel nodded once more, now understanding Dean’s question.

“Well, the truth is that it was very difficult to find something for you.”

“How so?”

“There are many things that you enjoy, such as alcohol, food, car related items, pornographic magazines,” to which Dean lowered his eyes for a moment, “firearms and so on, that I could have given you. But I deduced that it was…too practical? Or—most definitions of ‘gift’ in dictionaries suggest that it is simply the act of giving something willingly and freely. Almost none speak of the emotional intent of said act, which I thought was unfortunate. I was under the impression that the intention behind a gift mattered more than the gift itself or the very action of giving.”

Shifting on his feet, Dean said in an even voice, as much as he could master, “So, why the ties?”

“I—I was trying to mirror the cassette tape you had given me.”

This was not the answer Dean had expected.

But he liked the way it was going.

“How do you figure that?”

“Rock music is something you adore. You had wanted me to have something you enjoyed. I saw it as something you wanted to share. And it always reminded me of you when I listened to it.”

And with that, Dean knew he had picked the right present.

“Was I wrong in my assessment?” asked Castiel.

And Dean shook his head, feeling his chest swell with fuzzy feelings.

“I know it isn’t the same,” continued Castiel, “but it was more or less what I was trying to convey with the ties. I cannot always be hunting with you as much as I’d wish, but I figured, that way, the ties might remind you of me.”

Dean swallowed hard before saying, “I don’t need the ties for that. You know that, right?”

After exchanging a deep, lingering look, Castiel gave him a shy nod. Feeling the awkwardness rising between them, despite being appeased by Dean’s words, he then finally took it upon himself to open his present.

He momentarily froze, staring at it after the reveal.

It was two small, delicate pins.

A tiny golden bee.

And a colorful piece of pie.

Castiel stared at Dean, stunned, which rendered the task of holding down his grin very difficult for Dean.

“So, the idea was that this one was intended for you, and I—may I?” asked Dean, as he stepped closer.

Castiel nodded.

Taking hold of the golden bee pin, he said, “I didn’t exactly mean to go all fifties with this, but I—I don’t know, I liked it and thought you might as well.”

“I do like it,” he said earnestly.

Glad, Dean took a deep breath and with a short nod at his upper chest, he silently asked Castiel if he wished to wear it now.

Castiel stepped forward.

As Dean delicately pinned the golden bee on Castiel’s jacket collar lapel, he heard him say softly, “Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“When you say ‘going all fifties,’ are you referring to courtsh—what did you mean?”

Done with his task, Dean gently pressed on the pin to make sure it was safely attached, and stepped back. And met Castiel’s eyes.

“It’s as you thought. That’s why I got another one. That one is for me.”

He processed what Dean had just told him, and as he was reaching out for him, Castiel began saying, “Dean, I—I want—”

Unfortunately, something interrupted him. A loud horn was heard, making them both jump. Unfamiliar with the new alarm, Castiel questioningly frowned at Dean. Amused at his confusion, Dean explained, as loudly as he could over the horn, “Mrs. B.” and “Monster radar.”

Which only brought Castiel additional questions.

The moment the racket was over, before Dean even had time to utter another word, Sam, coming from down the hall, called for them with a sense of urgency in his voice. Castiel turned himself in that direction, while remaining at Dean’s side.

With their shoulders touching.

When Sam finally appeared before them, he said, “So—sorry, I’m sorry. I hope I—I didn’t mean to barge in—”

“It’s fine,” Dean told him. “What’s up?”

“Rugarus. Almost half a dozen of them in Concordia according to the radar.”

“Awesome.”

“I know it’s late and that you—but I don’t think we can wait any longer. And I—I’d go with Jack, but he has to stay hidden because—”

But Dean cut him off. “It’s okay, Sam. No worries. We’ll be there in a minute.”

Sam gave them both an apologetic nod and turned on his heels, eager to leave them be.

Once he was sure that his brother was out of earshot, Dean refocused his attention to Castiel. “What were you going to say?”

“It can wait. Duty calls.” His tone hadn’t been grim. Or even with a hint of disappointment. Simply as a matter of fact.

But he stayed put, facing Dean, with no effort to leave.

“You’re right,” said Dean. “It can wait. There’s just one—a couple of things—I’d like to cover before we join Sam though.” He lowered his eyes to the box Castiel was still holding.

Letting out a faint laugh, Castiel said, “I’ll put it on you right now if that’s what you want. But considering where we are heading, shouldn’t we wait? I don’t want you to lose it. Maybe I should even keep this one safe.”

He lifted his hand to reach for his pin, but Dean stopped him. Holding his hand, he said, “Don’t worry about that, it will stay on.”

“Aren’t these fragile? I told you, I don’t want to break it or lose it.”

“You won’t. I took care of that. I—Mrs. B. helped me. She—just trust me, the only way this is getting off your coat is because you, and no one else, wills it.”

There was a short pause. “Then you are right. It will stay on.”

He lifted the box and installed Dean’s pin in turn.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

“Dean, will you let me know when you will celebrate the next holiday? I’d like to be there.”

Giving his hand a squeeze, he said, “No way we are doing this without you. I’m looking forward to experiencing the rest of them with you.” And knowing that Sam was waiting, he said, “Just one last little thing before we end this one though.”

“What’s that?”

And Dean, slowly leaning in, breathed, “A kiss.”

And he was granted his wish.

                                                        THE END

#destiel fic #destiel fluff #SPN xmas #destiel secret santa #my fanfic #Dean Winchester #castiel #castiel and his bees #Dean Winchester loves Castiel

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 23

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Christmas morning finally arrives, and you and Bucky come to a decision.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by @araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Mild sexual content, fluff, mild angst, references to asexuality

AO3

Whether by habit or some instinctual memory of being back in this room on this day, your body knew to wake you up at the crack of dawn, which would have been a bummer if not for one important fact.

You were warmly tucked within the embrace of one sleeping demon. Definitely sleeping this time because his wings were draped over you like a blanket and his tail was looped snug around your leg.

Closing your eyes and releasing a sigh, you reveled in the warm security of Bucky’s chest pressed against your back. Neither of you had bothered to get dressed after last night, and all of him was pressed against you in the best way. You were on the edge between vibrating out of your skin in nervous energy and melting into a puddle from the intimate contact.

Perhaps your silent agitation woke him, because Bucky nosed against your neck and gave a raspy “morning” as he stretched and hugged you closer.

“M-morning,” you returned, stuttering while his stiffening cock pressed against your ass. Falling asleep naked was, in hindsight, not the wisest idea.

“Uh, sorry—“

Bucky began to roll away but you snatched his arm in time and draped it back over your waist.

“It’s fine, really, just… stay a little while?”

Bucky paused then rolled back the rest of the way, and you sighed at the return of warmth.

“We… we should probably talk about this…”

“Later.”

You rolled onto your other side until you were facing him and got an amazing view of his collarbone. Nuzzling against his chest, you made a satisfied hum in your throat.

Bucky let out a breathless laugh and ran his fingers through your hair. The humming intensified.

“You’re like a cat,” he remarked, his other hand tracing along the curve of your spine. “Craving warmth and attention.”

“I’m not the one with pointy ears and a tail.”

You gave the hollow dip at the base of his throat a lick for good measure. He stiffened and groaned, his cock now at full mast and pressed against your hip.

“Are you… uh… still hungry?” you asked, clearing your throat when your voice cracked like a teenage boy.

“Mmmm nope. Still very full from last night. This is… all you.”

Face on fire, you buried your face deeper in his neck. Bucky just laughed, the rumbling sound both comforting and rekindling the warmth in your gut.

“We should probably get up,” he sighed into your hair, then chuckling at your muffled groan. “I don’t want to leave this bed either, but… we’ll have lots of time once we get back to the city to…”

He trailed off at you staring up at him with big, wide eyes. His cheeks flushing pink was a rare, wonderful sight.

“We get to do this more?” you asked, daring not to hope. “Not just for feedings?”

He swallowed hard and licked his lips, tempting you to taste them again. You didn’t know how you would manage to keep your hands to yourself now that you knew what this was like.

“That’s what we should talk about.”

You huffed and let your forehead smash into the pillow. He rubbed your back sweetly but was definitely grinning down at you as he said, “You’re the one who said we should communicate more clearly.”

“Ugghhh,” was your answer muffled by the pillow.

Bucky smiled and kissed the top of your head, the amused, fond expression never quite leaving his face as the two of you got dressed. You couldn’t help sneaking glances at him; with or without the guise, his body was a goddamn meal in every sense of the word.

Coming downstairs meant you were met with the strong smell of pancakes, cinnamon, and hazelnut wafting through the house. Your mom and aunt were both working on breakfast, while your uncle shoveled the driveway and walkway  to clear the snow from the night.

Bucky volunteered to help him, and with a parting kiss on the crown of your head, he put on his windbreaker and disappeared out the front door.

Unlike all the other gestures of affection put on for show, this one left you flushed with a pounding heart. The knowing glance your mother and aunt shared made the heat in your face worse, but at least they were merciful enough to keep their comments to themselves.

Just kidding.

“Jacob seems very nice,” your mother said in that way mothers had of doing trying to prod for more information and thought they were being sneaky. “Will we get to see him over more holidays?”

You were in the middle of retrieving cartons of grapes, kiwis, and persimmons from the fridge in order to help make the fruit salad when you froze. Having Bucky over for… holidays? You jumped forward to other questions. What about birthday parties? Next holiday season?

How long was the shelf life of a demon pact? You couldn’t remember what the book had said, if anything.

“Sweetie?”

You blinked, struggled to form a steady smile, and turned back to the fruit when it didn’t quite work.

“Yeah, hopefully,” you answered weakly.

She shuffled closer and you could sense her staring, the weight of her concern pressing on your shoulders.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

The fruit cartons were cold in your hands, and the cool water you used to wash them with did nothing to stop the chill creeping over you.

“Course, Mom. Why?”

“Well…” She stood next to you to take the washed fruits and chop up the larger ones on the cutting board. “Because I know at the beginning of these things, when everything is new and intense, it can be a little… scary.”

You snorted. Now there was an understatement.

“But I know it’s going to all work out,” she said. “With Jacob, or whatever’s going on in your life, it’ll be okay. I just… have a feeling about it.”

You nodded and ducked your head, fighting back the sudden well of tears when your mother reached over and hugged you against your side as if you were a little kid again.

“But if anything is bothering you, I want you to tell me.” She squeezed your arm, and you smiled despite yourself. “Even if there’s nothing I can do, I’m your mother and I want to know.”

You did want to tell her, so badly. You gave another weak nod and a thanks, Mom so she’d leave the subject alone. You didn’t know where this surge of emotions was coming from, but everything felt too heavy and too much. It was Christmas morning, everyone was safe and healthy, and there was no reason you should be on the verge of crying into the fruit salad.

As soon as Bucky returned with your uncle and settled his gaze on you, his brows creased and he frowned. But there was no time to talk; your sister and her family had arrived, and it was a gentle sort of pandemonium after that. Embraces and excited conversation as everyone gathered around the tree. There were no children left in the family, with the exception of your two month old nephew, but it was a tradition you continued long after childhood.

Bucky kept shooting you concerned glances throughout the entire gathering, even after you decided to drop your own problems and focus on your family’s happiness. Your aunt and uncle were avid outdoors explorers, so shopping for them had been easy. Binoculars, survival gear, hiking boots, all pretty standard stuff. Your mother and sister had been harder, but some cute t-shirts and new books from their favorite authors had done the trick.

You were still bothered by the fact you hadn’t given Bucky anything. Last night had been something out of a fantasy, and that was before you’d managed to get Bucky into bed, and not having a gift for him was unacceptable.

After all the presents were opened and everyone got comfortable around the living room in what you recognized would be hours of slightly boring, adult conversation, Bucky caught your eye and nudged his chin towards the backdoor. Nodding discretely, you excused yourselves with the reason that you were going for a walk, and grabbed Bucky’s hand to lead him into the backyard.

You’d barely been outside ten seconds before Bucky sighed, turned right back around, and disappeared inside with the instructions to sit tight. You rolled your eyes when he reappeared with your jacket and beanie in hand.

“I’m not going to die of exposure from being out in the snow for a few minutes underdressed,” you griped.

“Uh-huh.” Bucky ignored you as he shoved the beanie over your head and used your flailing to slip your arms through the sleeves.

“You’re such a mother hen.”

“Well, one of us has to look out for you.”

“I am. Perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” You shook your finger at him.

“Uh-huh.” He grabbed you and lifted you up in his arms. “Is that why you couldn’t bother to put slippers on before going out in the snow?”

You buried your face in his chest so Bucky couldn’t see your expression. So what if you’d been so distracted you’d basically run outdoors in your pajamas?

He smirked and carried you to the old swing set you hadn’t been on since you were a kid. Only two seats, it had been built by your uncle soon after your sister had been born. It was one of your favorite childhood spots, and as Bucky set you down on one of the swings, you wondered if he knew that.

Bucky sat on the other swing and immediately picked up your legs and put them into his lap. You opened your mouth to complain, but closed it again. Bucky was softly smiling at you, and you couldn’t remember him ever looking so… happy.

“So…” You wiggled your legs and focused on your wet socks rather than your feelings. “Is this why you lured me away? You wanted to play on the swing set?”

You expected Bucky to be flustered or embarrassed by your teasing. Instead, he leaned across the small space and pulled your legs at the same time so you were practically sitting sidesaddle in his lap. He grinned at your shocked expression.

“No. But now that you bring it up…”

Bucky closed the last few inches and captured your lips in a soft, light kiss. It still hit you like a ton of bricks and you would have fallen backwards off your swing if Bucky hadn’t been there to wrap his arms around you.

You were in a daze by the time you separated. He chuckled at your expression but didn’t move far, and you were tempted to kiss him again.

“We still have to talk.”

You scrunched up your nose.

“Must we?” you asked. “Or should we make out instead.”

Bucky grinned wide enough to show perfectly white teeth.

“Maybe after.”

“I’m listening,” you said with your best innocent, attentive look. Bucky didn’t buy it, but he did kiss you on the tip of your nose before leaning back a more appropriate distance. Disappointing.

“Last night was…” Bucky’s gaze dropped, a thumb absently rubbing circles into your knee. “I don’t have words for it. It was incredible and amazing…

“But…” You exhaled heavily and leaned your forehead against the cold chain of the swing. Here was the it’s not you, it’s me talk. This was exactly why you didn’t want to have this discussion—

“But.” His other hand squeezed your leg, gently, to catch your attention. When he had it, he said, “I want to be a hundred percent certain it’s what you want.”

Oh. Not quite what you’d expected.

“Bucky… It’s… of course it’s what I want.” The words tumbled out of you before you could stop them. “I’ve wanted this for a while now and didn’t have the guts to express that until last night.”

“Huh.” He blinked, mouth slightly ajar as if he’d never considered that before. “I... I’m asking because the bond makes things a lot more complicated. How do we know what’s binding magic and what’s… I mean… even if it’s not the bond, we’re still forced to have sex, and it’s easy to get attachments when you—“

You didn’t mean to let the giggle escape, but once it had, Bucky stared at you like you’d grown a second head. The confused-Bucky-face didn’t help, either.

“I’m not… not laughing at you,” you said, smiling. “I’m laughing because I think I understand what you’re worried about, and Bucky? That’s not what’s going on here.”

Bucky searched your face and frowned.

“But how do you know that?” he asked. “You could be confusing the feelings from sex for something else. Something more.”

Your smile widened as you struggled not to laugh again. You really didn’t want Bucky to take it the wrong way, misunderstand it for the relief it was.

“I know because my brain doesn’t work like that. Never has,” you said. “I don’t get ‘sexual feelings’ from looking at attractive people. Having sex with them wouldn’t change that. So… I’m trying to say, I don’t like you because of the bond, or the sex. I like you apart from all that. One’s got nothing to do with the other.”

He stared at you so long you fidgeted under his gaze.

“Is that why you haven’t been in many relationships?”

You winced and buried your face in your hands. Sometimes, you forgot this was the guy who’d been watching over you most of your life and knew you better than anyone.

Gentle hands pulled your arms away from your face, his expression kind and a little bit sad.

“It’s not a judgement,” he said quietly. “I always wondered why you were alone. Couldn’t understand it.”

You couldn’t meet his eye, the tightness in your chest suffocating, bordering on painful. All those years you’d been alone, believing you’d always be that way, never knowing Bucky existed. Countless nights you’d curled up in bed, heart aching with loneliness, and he’d been out there just… thinking about you?

Bucky wasn’t the only one with a low sense of self-worth. You just buried yours better.

“Yeah.” You swallowed hard. “I don’t feel attracted to people very often. And when I do, it just… doesn’t work out.”

Your stomach clenched and you wondered if you might barf right there in the snow, or worse, on Bucky’s lap. You hadn’t expected to have this conversation, not so soon and not here. You weren’t prepared for it, for his inevitable rejection. For the pity in his eyes as he finally understood.

“Or I’m not what they want.” Your voice was flat. Clinical. In direct opposition to the anxiety buzzing under your skin. “It’s as simple as that. I don’t blame anyone for wanting something I can’t give them. It’s… it’s no one’s fault…”

Despite the familiar words you had recited to yourself over and over, your vision blurred. You tried to retract your arms out of Bucky’s grip, but he pulled you forward against his chest and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. The swing slipped out from under you, and now you really were in his lap. He didn’t seem to mind as he rubbed your back and propped his chin on top of your hair.

“It’s all right,” he said, low and comforting. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“You didn’t.” You pressed closer against his chest, barely feeling the freezing temperature while wrapped in Bucky’s warmth. “I just want you to know that if I’m not what you want, then… bond or not, you don’t owe me anything.”

Bucky slowly pulled back and cupped your cheeks in his gloved hands, one stiffer than the other. His eyes were so gentle it was hard to breathe.

“I believe that’s my line.”

You rolled your eyes, if only so you wouldn’t start crying like a baby. You hadn’t realized how much emotional weight you’d been carrying until now.

“You’re stuck with me, Barnes. I told you that.”

He stroked your cheek, his gaze suddenly very far away as if he was seeing something else.

“And I made a promise a long time ago that I would always protect you,” he said. “Which I will continue to do, no matter where this goes or what happens between us.

“But,” he added, leaning forward, eyes sparkling with warmth, “I’m also extremely selfish and hoping we can continue what we’ve started. Whatever you’re willing to give me, whatever you’re comfortable with sharing, will be more than enough for me. Because you are more than enough for me.”

Great, now your eyes were burning for a totally different reason. Your anxiety had vanished, but now it felt like this burning affection was going to burst out of your chest like a baby xenomorph.

Before you could wonder if Bucky had seen any of the Alien series, and would you be able to rope him into watching them with you, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth.

And then you ruined the tender moment by grinning like an idiot and chirping, “So-o-o-o does that make you my demon boyfriend?”

“Oh, my God.”

“And me, your adorable human girlfriend?”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back and leaned away to give you a narrow-eyed glare.

“Yes.” He ended the syllable on a slight hiss, narrowing his eyes further when you grinned. “You might regret this, you know.”

“I regret getting out of bed every day. You?” You grinned. “No. Not a chance I’ll regret you.”

“I’m not sure whether to be assured or worried.”

You gave him a sympathetic pat on the cheek.

“Millennial humor. You’ll get used to it.”

Bucky leaned forward, his mouth suddenly very close, making you flush in record time.

“You do realize your generation did not invent fatalistic humor.”

“Yeah? Tell me more, Gramps.”

The crash of his lips against yours might have been a form of payback for your smart mouth, but you welcomed it gladly.

Next Chapter

#bucky barnes x reader #demon!bucky #demon!bucky x reader #branded #bucky barnes #my writing #my fanfiction #what? two chapters of healthy communication? #perish the thot

[scullyverse]

Chicken and Cheese

Prompt by anon;

“It’s because I’m so attractive isn’t it?" - “I say this, and I cannot stress this enough, I find you completely repulsive"

Thank you so much for your prompt. I had fun writing this one with putting a bit of a humorous take on it.

Also available to read on ao3

Scully is struggling at work and Mulder takes her out for lunch to help her feel better.

Mulder/Scully || Miscellaneous || 2.5k words || Rating G

Sighing, Scully sunk back into her office chair, removing her glasses from off her nose in frustration, chucking them onto the desk. She as getting annoyed at herself with having to stare at the same few sentences over and over again on the paper in front of her, her head pounding, eyes unfocused. Since her cancer diagnosis she found it harder to read and write for long periods of time due to the strain it put on her eyes. They had returned from a case early this morning and had spent the majority of the rest of the day completing the relevant paperwork and reports. Though as the hours ticked on Scully could feel her eyes begin to protest and the pounding headache creeping up on her, getting more intense as she tried to push herself through it. Pinching the bridge of her nose she closed her eyes willing her eyes to focus again so she could just finish the little paper work she had left before she clocked out for the day. Scully wasn’t one to let herself be tardy on paperwork, and there was only a little bit left to do.

“I could finish it if it’s too much for you Scully”

Opening her eyes again, she looked across their single desk towards Mulder, his eyes staring right into hers, soft and kind. As much as she hated the way people looked at her now, like she was so fragile, Mulder didn’t look at her that way. From the moment she had gotten her diagnosis he had been there, steady and supportive. Sure she could tell his concern as always there, it crept up in his eyes every so often, but he wouldn’t treat her like she was glass that needed to be wrapped in bubble wrap in case it shattered. Mulder still treated her with the respect for her independence like he always did. It was a breath of fresh air.

“No, it’s okay. I just need a break for a few minutes, just a small headache” Scully gave him a small smile, hiding the grimace as another wave of pain hit her head. She wouldn't admit to him that it felt like her eyes were splitting inside her head because what she said was the truth. She had gotten used to the headaches and the blurriness of her eyes that came with it these past few weeks and with a small break she would be able to continue to finish the report she was working on. Besides it would have to be something she would have to learn to push through if she wanted to keep her job for as long as she could, it wasn’t like it was going to get any better. And she needed it because it kept her busy and not focusing on the fact that this cancer was killing her from the inside out.

Mulder put his own glasses down onto the desk, his report momentarily forgotten as he gave her a little smile in return, though it didn’t meet his eyes. He could tell she was in pain but he didn’t want to push her too hard. Scully had always been so independent and strong that the fact that she would eventually lose both of those things caused a frustrated tension to rest just below her skin that Mulder picked up on and his worry for her wouldn’t give her any comfort he was sure of that. So he would be there for her to keep a constant source of normality for her if she needed.

“We haven’t had anything to eat in a few hours, how about we go grab something?” Mulder looked at the clock on the wall and noticed it was way past lunch but they still had a little bit over an hour before they clocked out and they were both nearly finished their reports anyway. “We have some time to kill. It might help with the headache”

Scully nodded as she rubbed under her eyes. Maybe some fresh air would help her after they had spent the majority of the day cooped up down in their basement office. Even though she knew her headache wasn’t the result of low blood sugar she would go with him and eat if it helped to put his mind at ease a little. Mulder got up from the desk as he grabbed his suit jacket that was hanging over the back of his chair, putting it on, Scully standing up too, settling her pen down next to her report.

“Did you want to go to that little place on the corner? That has those mean sandwic-“

Mulder stopped talking when he heard a groan of frustration and looked up to see two small blood drops on the white pages of the report Scully had been working on. Looking up further he saw Scully quickly press a tissue to her nose, tilting her head back slightly. “Dammit” Scully muttered under her breath. Mulder wanted to rush over there to wrap her in his arms but he stopped himself. Every time he had worried about the nose bleeds in the past she would snap at him in anger. He now knew that she didn’t need his coddling. He would be there when she needed him and he would make sure he didn’t mess up the trust she had put in him but acting as concerned as he felt. Mulder just walked over to her side of the desk, pulling a couple of tissues out of the box next to her report and gave her one, her eyes dropping from his as she changed the tissues, pulling it away after she realised the blood flow had all but stopped. Mulder used the rest of his tissues to gently dab at the paper, making sure not to smudge her writing on the page. She would probably insist on re writing it now anyway, but he would try to get her to not worry about it. The drops hadn’t been big and it wasn’t as messy as when it had happened in the past.

Scully watched him with a tug at her chest as she gave her nose one more touch with the tissue to make sure it had stopped before she tucked the bloody tissues into her hand. “Let me just go wash up before we go. A sandwich would be nice” Excusing herself, Scully walked out of the office and into the toilet block at the end of the hallway, checking herself in the mirror to make sure she didn’t have any blood on her skin or clothes. When she was happy that she didn’t see any blood on her shirt, she quickly splashed some water on her face before she studied her appearance, cleaning up under her nose as she threw the dirty tissues into the waste basket under the sink and made her way back towards their office, Mulder standing outside holding her jacket in his arms.

“Your jacket my lady” Mulder outstretched his arm with a flourish. Scully rolled her eyes, a smile breaking on her lips at how much of a dork he was. This was how she liked it. He didn’t make a fuss over her like everyone else and just kept everything normal. It was what she needed. She knew that pushing her cancer under the rug to deal with later wouldn't be a viable option forever, but while she could do it she would. Going to grab her jacket she smiled a little more when he placed it on her shoulders, helping her get it on. Looking up at him with suspicious eyes he just patted her shoulders, lingering there a little longer than normal before he gave them a squeeze. He didn’t say anything, but she knows this was his way of making sure she was okay. Her smile warmed as she gave a nod, which was enough for him to nod in return and walk down the hallway, his hand on her lower back like always as he called the elevator.

“Please tell me you are actually going to order a sandwich this time? I know you love your salads Scully but their chicken and cheese is like an orgasm in your mouth” Mulder joked as the elevator dinged, the doors opening. Scully laughed as she stepped inside, pushing the button to the ground floor as she looked over to him, crossing her arms over her chest. “An orgasm in your mouth, really Mulder?” She tried to dead pan but couldn’t hide the smirk on her lips.

“I swear to god Scully.” Putting his hands up defensively he return her smile. “The way the cheese melts and that sauce they use is just heavenly”

The elevator doors dinged again as it opened to the hustle and bustle of the ground floor as they stepped out, walking side by side through the room on their way towards the exit, Scully just shaking her head slightly as he rambled on and on about the sandwich.

Stepping outside, Scully paused slightly as she closed her eyes against the sun, feeling another pulse of pain hit her eyes before she took a deep breath, sucking in the slightly cool clear air. Feeling a hand on her lower back once more, she opened her eyes as she looked up at Mulder, his sunglasses in his other hand in front of her. “Thanks” Scully whispered as she put them on, taking relief when the sun wasn’t so bright in her eyes. “Well I might just have to try this orgasmic sandwich after all”

Mulder broke out into a grin as they walked together to the little deli store on the corner. Once inside Mulder ordered them both a chicken and cheese sandwich, Mulder ordering a glass of soda for himself and a glass of water for Scully upon her request. Placing the sunglasses on the table, Scully removed her jacket and put it on the back of the chair as Mulder did the same before they settled down onto the table set for two. Once their sandwich’s arrived Scully watched as Mulder all but began to devour his first half. Looking down at her own she had to admit that it did look pretty amazing. Her stomach flipped with a little pang of nausea as another wave of pain hit her head. She didn’t really feel all that hungry after her little episode in their office, but Mulder had bought it for her so she would at lease try to eat a little bit, she was sure she could mange that. By the time Scully had brought a half of her sandwich to her lips to take the first bite, Mulder had already finished one half and was going to start on the second, a bit of sauce gathered in the corner of his lips.

Scrunching her nose up slightly, Scully began to eat her sandwich with an impressed hum of approval. It did taste pretty damn good, she just wished she was hungry enough to appreciate it more. Mulder looked at her and licked his lips, cleaning them as he raised his eyebrows. “It’s good right?” He said, swallowing his mouthful. “Orgasm in the mouth” He returned to his half as he watched her, watched how she only ate a few bites, barely getting through the first half of her sandwich before he could tell she mustn’t be feeling the best because her cheeks became a little whiter and her bites became slower and slower. He hadn’t realised he was starting until he felt the filling of his sandwich hit his plate and shirt with a noise. Looking down he gave a pout, seeing some white sauce on the front of his shirt. Grabbing his napkin he began cleaning up as Scully watched him with a smirk. “Are you always this messy around your dates?”

Mulder gave a laugh as he wiggled his eyebrows playfully, placing his napkin back down to the table, Mulder was pleased with himself that the evidence was mostly gone from his shirt now. “Oh come on Scully, I take you to this nice place, buy you an orgasmic sandwich and everything, still not good enough for you? So fussy” His voice was teasing as he looked down at his shirt with a satisfied gesture. “Besides you can’t even see that anything had happened no, couldn’t get any more cleaner for you.”

Chuckling, Scully put her sandwich back to her plate as she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her water, her eyes falling to this shirt, still seeing the slight discolouration but decided to say nothing. Putting her glass back down to the table she raised her eye brow. “I’m so impressed” She sarcastic replied, her lips curling into a smile. “My mother would be so happy that I found someone so....able to clean himself.”

Mulder laughed as he took a drink from his soda, before he gave her a playful smouldering look, causing her to grimace awkwardly, a laugh escaping her lips, a little bit of colour returning to her cheeks. Mulder gave her a wink as he leaned forwards slightly. “You can tell me the truth Scully, why your mother would be happy” His lips curling into a smirk “...It’s because I’m so attractive isn’t it?”

Scully gave a sharp laugh before she pushed him back into his chair with a playful shove, her hand going to cover her mouth as she felt her shoulders shake as she laughed. Mulder fell back into his chair as he nodded to himself, his eyes twinkling with playfulness and happiness, seeing her laugh so carefree, especially after what had happened earlier. He would do anything to make her laugh. Scully slowed her laughter down to a giggle before she reached out to grip his hands, giving them a slight pat as she looked into his eyes, a sudden serious look on her face. “I say this Mulder and I cannot stress this enough. I find you completely repulsive”

Mulder felt his smile falter for a moment before he saw the same playful twinkle in her eyes as her face broke out into a grin. “I’m kidding Mulder....” She had seen the look of heartbreak in his eyes for a split second and she felt herself having to apologise in some way. “...I don’t find you completely repulsive” She joked as she sat back in her chair, her hands resting back in her lap and her lips in a soft smile, her headache and nausea returning slightly. Pushing her plate forward she gave Mulder a little tilt of her head. “Go ahead and finish mine, I’m full.”

Reaching forward to pull the plate closer he took note of the grimace in her eyes again and gave her a smile. “Thanks Scully. Are you sure you’ve have enough?”

Scully nodded again with a soft smile as she sat back in her chair, her stomach settling down a little bit at the thought of her not eating anything more. Her head ache throbbed again behind her eyes but it wasn’t as bad as it had been back at their office. It had been nice to get out and spend some time with Mulder away from the stuffiness of their office and without the pressure of a case. It was exactly what she needed.

“I’m sure”

#msr #msr fanfic #mulder and scully #mulder x scully #mulder/scully #dana scully #fox mulder #fanfic #fanfiction #danaxfoxfic

[the-lady-writes-what]

Birthday Girl

So...I got wasted Sunday (my birthday) and I left this draft unfinished cause I fell asleep in the middle of writing it. Here I am, rewriting this because...oof. I fixed it. Here’s a little self-indulgent present for me and you guys.

Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader (who is also on the chubby side)

Content: fluff, body positivity, bondage, oral (receiving), praise kink, riding

Forgive me if it slips into a gray area of self-insert, only slightly. 

The apartment was dark. No surprise there. Shouta must have been out on late night patrol again. Figures. You shuffled off your blazer, kicked off your shoes, and dumped your bag on the couch. You turned on the light to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Inwardly groaning, you made up your mind not to bother making dinner for one unless it was easy. Cooking involved effort, and after the day you’ve had, that was the last thing on your mind. You scoured the fridge for something to eat before you passed out only to remember some off-handed comments you overhead your co-workers say. 

‘I know Eraserhead’s just an underground hero, but can you imagine dating a pro and looking like that?’ 

‘I wonder if Eraserhead has a fat fetish. Maybe that’s what it is?’

You grabbed a salad and slammed the fridge door closed. You didn’t bother grabbing any dressing or shredded cheese. It just made you feel more awful just thinking about food. Unfortunately, you needed to eat. The lettuce and spinach leaves were tossed into a salad bowl that was carried to a lonely dinner table. Your fork angrily dug into the vegetables before popping them in your mouth. The motion of chewing made you imagine a cow chewing cud. Your fork clattered as it bounced off the table and you buried your face in your hands. Tears began to prickle the corners of your eyes when you heard the front door open. 

Shouta shambled into the apartment carrying a large pink box under his arm. You quickly dried your eyes to pretend nothing was wrong. It didn’t take him long to figure you out. He bent down and picked up the fork you tossed. 

“Lose your temper with unruly kale?” He asked. 

Your laugh was bitter coming out of your mouth. “Spinach, actually.” 

Shouta looked over your plate. “Looks awfully plain. Are you feeling alright? Do you have a stomach ache or something?” 

“No, it’s just...I thought I should have something lighter and I wasn’t in the mood to make anything else,” you answered. 

“I can order take out. It’s late, but there’s a couple of places open all night. We could--”

“No, Shouta, it’s fine. Really.”

Shouta gave you a look. You’d seen it before when his students were about to get a verbal smackdown. You knew he didn’t buy it, it was only a matter of time before he said anything. If you didn’t act quickly, you were about to face his wrath. Or worse, an interrogation. Your eyes shifted to the box tucked under his arm. Perfect for changing the subject. 

“What’s in the box?” You asked. 

“Your birthday present?” Shouta’s brows shot upwards. “Don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday.” 

“It’s been...one of those days, you know?” 

He left the box in front of you while he walked into the kitchen to get himself a drink. You bit your lip as you looked at the box. Shouta returned to the small dining room with a couple of beers in hand. He handed one to you and sat down in the opposite chair. 

“Aren’t you going to open it?” He asked, taking a sip. 

“Oh. Right.” 

You gingerly eased the lid off and put it somewhere else. Rose-festooned tissue paper lay inside, forcing you to peel it away. You felt blood rush to your face. You’d seen this on display before in a window store, but didn’t think to see it in person. A lace and velvet lingerie set in rose. You’d been eye-balling it for weeks, but never had the guts to buy it. A lingering thought crossed your mind. 

“Is it too much? Is it not what you wanted?” 

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s just that, I don’t think I'll be able to fit in it.”

“You could try it on and see?” 

“I don’t think it’ll work. I’m...too big.” You mumbled.

“Who told you that?” 

“Let’s just drop it,” you picked up the box to put away only to have Shouta grab your arm. 

His grasp was neither hard nor too rough, but it did give you a pause. Shouta pulled you into his lap. 

“Tell me, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Asked Shouta. 

You bit your bottom lip and hugged the box to your chest. You looked down at your lap until Shouta pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He didn’t allow you to look away. 

“Last chance before I do something you might regret,” said Shouta. 

“Would you, would you still date me if I was skinny?” 

Shouta’s brows furrowed. “What that hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“Are you dating me because I’m bigger than other girls?” You asked more precisely this time. 

“Are you implying that I'm treating you like a fetish?” 

“Well--” 

Shouta moved with fluid motion lifting you up and putting you on his shoulder. Your birthday gift fell to the floor, discarded as you were carried off like a sack of potatoes. Shouta carried you down the hall, kicked open the bedroom door, and threw you unto the bed. 

“S-Shouta,” you whimpered. 

His capture weapon was already binding your wrists together. Shouta looked down at you with that stern face which always made you shudder. 

“You think that I love and care about you because I have some sort of fetish? Who have you been talking to?” 

“You can’t blame me? You’re a pro-hero. Shouldn’t you be with someone more...physically fit?” 

“Since when I have cared what other people think? Do you think I'm to listen to anyone who holds ridiculous standards for pro’s?” 

Shouta buttoned your blouse and unzipped your skirt, easing the garment down your legs. Next, your leggings and with them your panties. Shouta discarded not only some of your clothes, but removed parts of his costume until all that was left were his pants now slung low on his hips. The mattress dipped under his weight as he climbed on top of you. Shouta peppered your thick thighs with kisses and edged ever so close inside them. His teeth nibbled your flesh, making you dig your heels into the bed. Hands roamed your body and left finger-shaped bruises and trails of fire across your skin. You couldn’t do anything like push him away because despite that Shouta’s attention was elsewhere, the capture weapon stayed. Your blouse was left open to expose your black bra and chest for his viewing pleasure. 

Shouta pulled your legs apart and kissed his way up your inner thighs. You squirmed as he lips suckled your skin and left hickies. Purple splotches decorated your legs. Shouta gave your slit a tentative lick before looking up squarely into your eyes. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good, you’re going to forget those stupid opinions.” 

Shouta dove between your legs and lapped at your cunt. The bindings still held good no matter how much you squirmed and shuddered. Shouta wasn’t simply eating you out, he was fucking you with his tongue. His fingers stretched you open while his tongue explored and licked your clit. Shouta suckled on it as he pumped his fingers with fast, deep strokes. Pleasure spiraled down your spine until your eyes clamped shut. You whimpered aloud and gasped as you coated Shouta’s mouth with your cream. When he raised his head after licking you clean, you could still see his mouth dripping with you essence. Shouta licked it off his lips. 

The capture weapon loosened, freeing your wrists. Freedom, however, didn’t last long. In a whirlwind, your bodies switched places. Shouta had you sit briefly on his stomach while he inched his pants down the rest of the way. His protruding cock rested against your ass. He grabbed your hips and pulled you over his thick erect member. 

“Go on, enjoy yourself, birthday girl.”

You slowly impaled yourself on him with Shouta’s help. You shed the rest of your clothes and moved your hips. Shouta lay there and let you do what you wanted. He held your hips, kissed you, and rubbed your clit. 

“I don’t give a fuck about what other people, you look fucking hot riding me. All of these extra curves just give me more to grab unto.” With that, each hand of Shouta’s grabbed a handful of your ass. 

You continued to grind against him. Sweat beaded down your back and the side of your face. Your (color) clung to your face as you rode him. Shouta gave you a smug look watching you take your pleasure from him. 

“That’s right. Fuck yourself on my cock. You want it bad, don’t you, birthday girl?” 

“YES!” You moaned. 

“Take all the time in the world. You look so good riding me like that.”

You slammed down on him faster, then faster still. You closed yourself as you relished in the feeling of Shouta’s rigid cock pushing inside of you. Your walls clamping down on him. He let go of cheek to play with your clit. Shouta rubbed you in time to your hips moving rapidly against his. You were chasing a high and weren’t going to stop. 

“S-Sho...Shouta,” you groaned his name. You were in misery and in ecstasy at the same time. 

Shouta snapped his hips upwards, meeting you thrust for thrust. Skin slapped against skin. All you could smell in the air was sweat and sex. White heat coursed down your back to the base of your spine. Your eyes fluttered open just for Shouta to see them roll into the back of your head. You couldn’t help sticking your tongue out as you grunted and groaned. Your inner walls clamped down on him and spasmed. Shouta wasn’t far behind. He left a bruising grip on your hips as he pumped you full. Only once you two had finished catching your breaths did Shouta carefully pull out. Cum spilled all over your inner thighs and the hem of his pants. 

“S-Sorry,” you whimpered. 

“Don’t be.” 

Shouta cleaned you up, ordered food, and ordered you to stay in bed. He boxed up your present and fished the receipt out from his pocket. 

“What’s this for?” You asked as he handed it to you. 

“What do you think? You can return or exchange it if you don’t like it.” 

You thought for a moment then noticed how much he spent. Shouta wasn’t the type of person to pay that much for one thing and he certainly wouldn't spend it on a frivolous thing like lingerie. It would be a damn shame not to enjoy it yourself. 

“Nah. I changed my mind.” You handed back the receipt. “Maybe one of these days I’ll model it for you.”

#my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha smut #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #bnha smut #smut #18+ only #reader fic #fem!reader #chubby reader #y/n #slightly self-insert #so sue me #shouta aizawa #eraserhead #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #minors dni #Minors begone #happy (belated) birthday to me

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 9

A/N Okay I’m excited for this one because we’re meeting my favourite character and if you’ve read my lil notes while I was writing a few weeks back you’ll know right now who it is hehe

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

Zach Herron was the kind of young man who made an impression on you. Honestly, he had that popstar look that any nineteen-year-old boy should have to really make it in the industry; the fluffy brown hair, big brown eyes, and cheeks that would make any young girl or old woman alike want to pinch them. He had promise, he had the look, he had charisma, sure. The only catch was that he had no fucking talent. He could sing well, this was fair to say I suppose, but he just sounded like any other choir boy. He didn’t have that special gift that Jonah and I always tried to reach for when it came to our clients.

So we denied his demo.

His agent pushed him on us in a few emails and even a phone call and she sounded nearly desperate to get this young guy a record deal but Jonah and I knew what image we wanted for our brand and just another pretty boy who had a mediocre voice was not who we wanted to sign.

We were persistent in our decision.

We only met the kid in person once. He showed up uninvited to our studio and demanded to speak to us. We stayed firm but fair with our choice to decline his demo.

To be brutally honest with you, dear reader, he lost his fucking mind.

Zach wasn’t one to take no for an answer – I assumed his mother coddled him a bit too much as a child and he wasn’t used to not getting his way – and when he realized we weren’t changing our minds, he lost it. I’m talking screaming and swearing and completely destroying my office until we had to call up security to restrain him and escort him out of the building while he cursed us to hell and back the whole way into the elevator.

“You’re going to regret this! You’re going to regret this until the day you die!”

The kid was literally fucking psycho.

It made perfect sense to add him to this list of potential suspects.

We had his work address from when he first sent in his information (along with a ton of other things we needed to know as potential record owners to a new artist) so Jonah and I drove right into the heart of Los Angeles to confront him. Was it the smartest idea? Probably not. But I mean we weren’t going to walk in there and directly ask ‘did you murder my wife’ but at least we could figure out some sort of verdict.

The bars on the window of the shop were not unlike a lot of places downtown, theft rates high in some neighbourhoods so smaller businesses opted for safety over aesthetics. Jonah and I stepped inside the small store together to find not a lot of customers filling the aisles. Probably suspected for a Tuesday after lunch hour. The smell of fresh cheese and meat waved through the air and I forced myself not to cover my nose. Could you blame me when I had been staring at a dead body all morning? Fresh meat wasn’t my first choice of a preferable scent at that moment.

Standing's Butchery was an unfortunate destination in that sense but if we were trying to prove my innocence then it was an important step.

“Should we buy lunch while we’re here?” Jonah asked me.

“No.” I answered easily. “I want a damn salad after this morning.”

Zach was behind the counter at the far end of the restaurant, his hair tucked in a hair net and his gloved hands busy behind the glass display case. He didn’t notice at us when we walked in until we were nearly directly in front of him.

His brown eyes raised to us, flicking between Jonah and me a few times, before coolly dropping his gaze back to the large chunk of steak he was filleting.

“Come here to beg for me back?” he asked egotistically.

“Not a chance.” I answered easily.

“Your lame-ass record company is going to swim with the fishes without me.” Zach said flatly. The knife hit the chopping board loudly before he pulled it back and slivered it down another strip of steak. “What can I do for you jackasses then?”

“Where were you around 7 last night?”

Zach’s eyes raised to mine, knife pausing mid slice before he focussed back to his work, “None of your business.”

“My house was broken into and I’m trying to figure out who I need to report to the police.” I said. It was only a half lie.

“I wouldn’t waste my fucking time breaking into your house full of useless fucking trash. What would I want out of it anyway?”

He didn’t look up as he sliced another thin fillet of steak with precision and a steady hand. He tossed the piece to the side and it hit the counter with a wet smack, a few splatters of blood streaking across the laminated granite. I focused my eyes on his face even if he refused to look at us.

“Doesn’t matter. What were you doing last night?” I tried again.

“I had a meeting at another record company.”

“Which one?”

“None of your business.”

“Yeah, it fucking is. Which one were you at, you fucking-”

Zach set the knife down hard against the countertop, cutting me off mid-sentence and his angry eyes bore into mine. He didn’t even glance at Jonah. Obviously his personal issue with one of us was decided.

“You already ruined my fucking dreams with your tasteless bullshit company thinking you can tell me ‘no’. Now you’re coming back here to interrogate me? I’m sick of you.” he waved the knife between us.

“Learn how to take criticism before you get yourself arrested for assault or destruction of property.” I retorted strongly. “Your attitude isn’t helping your case here.”

“There is no case.” Zach picked up the knife again and shook his head as he went back to slicing through the beef, “You’re pathetically obsessed with me, Seavey. You want to keep my name in your mouth so bad, so what, you want my dick in there next? At least that would shut you up. Fuck off.”

I scoffed loudly and tried to form a rebuttal, but he was continuing, his voice low to keep the sharp conversation between the three of us but thick with anger enough to make my blood pressure rise.

“I’m sick of seeing the two of you all over this fucking city; on every stupid fucking billboard and news channel. You don’t know what it’s like to suffer. You’re selfish pricks and you’ll get what’s coming to you sooner or later.”

“Tell your mommy to get you a mental test, you fucking psycho.” I spat. “If we don’t get a restraining order today it will be too fucking soon.”

“You came to find me, remember? Nice to see I have a little fanboy and his sidekick following me around like stalkers.”

“Fanboy my fucking ass, Herron.” I slammed my palm down against the glass display case. “Were you or were you not at my house last night?”

Zach looked back up at me but didn’t answer. The smirk on his face made me sick. He looked back down to his work.

“Just answer the question.” Jonah chimed in coolly.

“I was not.” Zach answered slowly as if he enjoyed seeing me angry.

“Fine.” I took a step back from the case, all too aware of his manager eyeing us and our confrontation from a few feet down the counter. I started back towards the door to the butcher without a look back, Jonah following quickly behind me. What use was my interrogation if all he gave me was snark and a denied accusation. Our darling fate would take care of him one way or another…whether he was responsible for Avalon’s death or not. I must say, though, if it was him, that was a disgustingly sick method of revenge for just a denied demo.

Zach called after us as I pushed open the door and stepped out to the sunbathed sidewalk, “And Seavey, tell your wife I say hello. If she wants a real man who knows how to work with meat, she knows where to find me.”

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @sexyseavey15 @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​

#🔪 #daniel seavey #jonah marais #why dont we #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #why dont we fanfic #daniel seavey fanfic

[lexartsstuff]

You'll Always Have Me

Word Count: 3,925

    “So, Ari, excited for your big day off tomorrow?” Anna plopped her tray on the table, the red plastic rattling as she threw her leg over the bench.

    Catalina looked up from her sushi, raising a playful brow at the two meat lovers’ pizzas on Anna’s tray. Returning to her food, the woman said, “Yes, I am actually.”

    “No, you’ve only been raving about it for a week!” Lina shot a glare at Anne, who gave her a smug grin in response. She wasn’t wrong, though. Lina had been hyping herself up for this all week. It would be a day to have all to herself. No work, no house cleaning, nothing. She was free for the whole day.

    Cathy rested her chin on her palm, a knowing smirk on her face as she said, “She’s gonna spend it all day sleeping, you know that right?”

    A collective nod went around the table. Even Lina couldn’t deny that she’d sleep until noon. “I’ll sleep until one and then I’ll spend the rest of the day watching movies,” Lina said. “Me-time is all I need.” A small moment of silence fell over the group, before a tray was set down on Lina’s left. Rose scent drifted lightly into her nose and Lina’s chest warmed.

    “Sorry, the line was long,” Jane apologized, sliding in to sit beside Lina.

    “For yogurt?” Anne asked, looking up from Kat’s phone.

    “They don’t just have yogurt, Anne.” 

    As the group tucked into their food, Catalina began rethinking her previous statement. While, yes, she did want to spend some time to herself, there was a certain someone she really wanted to spend the day with. Casting a look to her left, Catalina noticed Jane sweep her blonde hair back over one shoulder, lifting her spoon and savoring her parfait. It was undeniably cute, to which it had no right to be.

    Lina was a woman of her word, and denying a crush was far beneath her. If she were in any other situation, she’d have asked Jane out by now. Problem is; Jane isn’t open. She’s been dating some guy named Henry for four years now. It sunk Catalina’s heart to see the sweet blonde around the pompous jerk.

    “So, we all know what Cath’s gonna be up to,” Kitty began, “anyone else have any fun plans?”

    “I finished my project for Monday,” Anna said nonchalantly. “I’m just gonna work on my wall tomorrow.” Kat brightened upon hearing that, leaning over to Anna with her classic kitty eyes. Anna chuckled and booped the younger woman’s nose. “Yes, you can come over and help.”

    After shoveling a forkful of salad into her mouth, Anne said, “I will be working out tomorrow. So, Lina, if you wanna join-”

    “Don’t call me Lina,” Catalina enforced, tightening her grip on her chopsticks and fixing a glare on the shorter woman. Anne raised her hands defensively, swallowing her mouthful.

    “Just know the offer’s out there.” Anne returned to eating, occasionally eyeing Lina suspiciously. Cathy chuckled, sending her cousin a knowing look.

    “Oh, yes! Lina, what are your plans for tomorrow?” Jane asked, placing a hand on Catalina’s arm.

    “Wait, how come she-”

    “Sleep and watch movies.” Lina interjected, ignoring Anne’s declaration. Turning to Jane with a soft smile, she continued. “It won’t be exciting, but it’ll be relaxing.”

    Jane nodded, a sweet smile on her face. It amazed Catalina how interested Jane could seem about anything. It wasn’t fake interest either. Lina could sit and describe paint drying and Jane would look at her with interest dancing in her wide, azure eyes.

    “What’re you gonna be up to, Janey?” Kit questioned, leaning on the table. “I’m sure Ari doesn’t wanna be alone all day.” The way she glanced at Lina was far too teasing to be accidental. The worst part about her crush was how apparently obvious it was. Anna and Cathy were the denser of the group, and they figured it out first.

    Jane’s smile faltered, and it turned anxious. She prodded her yogurt, nudging a blueberry around silently. Dread befell Lina as a tense silence fell over the table.

    “You’re kidding, right?” Cathy’s eyes were firm as she asked this, fixed on Jane solemnly. Anne did her best to hide her disappointment, hiding her face behind her curtain of hair. “I thought you were gonna drop him!”

    “I was.” Jane pushed her blueberry under the yogurt, refusing to meet her friends’ eyes. “I told him Tuesday, and he asked for another chance-”

    “And you gave him one?” Anna demanded, causing Jane to flinch. The red clad woman frowned and sat back down, folding her arms. Lina could understand her friend’s frustration. Jane had come to Anne’s on Monday night, sobbing about how she’d caught Henry sending texts to another woman, asking ‘what to bring’ and ‘Jane won’t know’. The group had had a talk that night, and Jane promised to stick it to Henry the next day.

    However, as per usual, Henry squirreled his way out of a break-up by promising to “make it up” with a date.

    “Look, he seemed really genuine,” Jane reasoned. No one missed how soft her voice had gone when Anna had raised her own. “If he gets too drunk tonight or makes an excuse to cancel, I’m dropping him. He hasn’t forgotten all week.”

    Lina’s heart clenched at Jane’s broken tone. She was convincing herself that Henry would show, rather than her friends. She hated hearing Jane’s attempts to salvage the tiny pieces of her relationship with Henry, but she hated putting Jane down even more.

    Placing a hand on the blonde’s, Catalina said, “Just be safe, okay? If anything happens, call us.” She fixed her gaze on Jane, trying to steady her breathing. As much as she hated it, the date was going to happen. She just had to be ready to catch Jane when it fell out.

    Jane widened her fingers. Not by much, but just enough for Lina’s fingers to brush in between. The action sparked warmth in the taller woman’s chest, and she watched Jane nod slowly. “Thank you, Lina,” Jane whispered. She looked up, azure eyes void. “May I excuse myself?”

    “Of course, querida,” Lina replied, shifting to allow Jane room to leave the table. The blonde gave her friend a tiny smile, before retreating to the restrooms.

    Upon looking back at the table, Lina noticed all her friends staring at her, dismay in their eyes. Cathy’s expression said it all, and Lina let her defeated sigh slip. There was no point in trying to fix the problem anymore. There had been a time when Lina would purposefully make plans ahead of Henry, or ask Jane to things first, which kept Henry at a safe distance. Her attempts had declined over the years upon seeing no improvement in their relationship.

    Anna laid a hand on Lina’s shoulder, to which the curly-haired woman simply nodded.

    Tomorrow felt much less exciting now.

    Lina had been right. She’d slept in until one on Saturday, and only got out of bed when her stomach growled at her for food.

    She slumped around her house in a hoodie and sweatpants. She had ordered take out for lunch, which she then had delivered to her flat. She’d never done that before, which made her realize why Anne loved lazy weekends.

    Lunch was followed by a short yoga session. Lina had picked up yoga in her second year of college. Sitting all day was awful on her back and joints, and she definitely didn’t get enough exercise from just walking to and from campus. Kat had suggested yoga, and Lina was rather impressed with the results it had. Her posture had improved and she no longer felt the need to fidget in her seat.

    “How’s the wall coming along?” Lina asked, face buried in her arms as she reached for her toes.

    Anna’s voice came through the phone. “It’s halfway done,” she answered. “There’s paint all over me, though, and Kat’s not helping.”

    “Excuse me!” Kit’s voice came from somewhere else in the room, making Lina chuckle. “It’s not my fault you put so much stuff where I can’t reach.”

    “Anyways,” Anna continued, “how’re you holding up? Being lazy must be so hard.”

    Lina sat up, letting out a breath of air. “I don’t know how Anne does it,” Lina replied, feigning exhaustion, before reaching down to her other foot.

    Anna laughed, disappearing from the screen as she continued painting.

    That call had lasted the hour Lina did her yoga. Anna had hung up when she and Kat ran out for food, waving bye. Lina rolled her mat up and tucked it away in the corner of her living room. With a final stretch to loosen herself up, she changed back into a hoodie and sweats.

    The next couple hours were spent napping and scrolling through her phone. A gentle rain had begun to fall, pattering on the windows. Lina checked her phone. 9:43. I should eat something.

    She headed for the kitchen and began rummaging for something to heat up. She pulled out a container of mac n’ cheese, shrugged, and popped it into the microwave.

    Wine goes with that, right?

    Looking back in the fridge, Lina took notice of the wine bottle. It wasn’t until she pulled it out that she realized something.

    This was the bottle Jane had given her for her birthday. It was a Spanish red wine, similar to what her abuela used to drink. Lina had tugged Jane into the tightest hug, thanking her over and over.

    As one memory of Jane took hold, more and more began to flood Lina’s mind. Memories of school musicals, dances, mall outings, amusement park trips. Every moment with Jane was held close to Lina’s heart, which was breaking with each memory remembered. The thought of her being held by that pig of man was worse than someone ripping Lina’s heart out.

    “I should check up on her.” She had gone to reach for her phone, before thinking better of it. No. I don’t wanna piss Henry off by texting during their date. While the thought of Jane on a date with Henry was far from pleasing, it was better than thinking about all the times Jane had looked at Lina as if she were the sun. Lina knew if her mind strayed to Jane, she’d be tense the rest of the night.

    Shaking her anxieties off, Catalina poured a glass of wine and waited for her food to finish heating up. She watched the rain drops race down her windows, the rain picking up outside.

    The microwave dinged and she pulled the mac n’ cheese out, hissing as the bowl burned her hands. Setting it down, Lina retreated to the living room to search Disney+ for a movie. She settled on Lady and the Tramp, placing the remote back on the coffee table.

    And no, not because it was Jane’s favorite.

    Lina ran back for her dinner, tucking her phone into her sweat pockets before carrying her bowl and wine out the living room. She reclined back on the arm of the couch, wine glass on the end table and bowl cradled in her lap.

    It was halfway through the movie when Lina felt something vibrate against her stomach. She groaned and dug around for her phone. She had just gotten into the perfect position where everything was stretched just right.

    She pulled her phone out, took one look at the contact, and her adrenaline shot up. She slid the green button and quickly held the phone to her ear.

    “Jane, what’s wrong?”

    There was silence on the other end, aside from rain and the faint sound of breathing.

    “Lina…”

    Catalina was already pulling her coat on with that one word. Jane had sounded shattered on the other end, her sniffles coming through the rain.

    “Stay right there, bebé,” Lina ordered. “I’m coming to get you. Where are you?”

    “Lina, I-I’m so sorry. H-He-”

    “Hush, querida, don’t speak,” Lina interrupted, grabbing her keys and hurrying out the door, forgoing the slides that sat at the door. “Are you home?”

    A choked sob echoed in the phone before Jane whispered, “Yes.”

    “Alright, hun, I’m on my way,” she assured. “Just stay on the phone, please.”

    A whimpered ‘ok’ was all she got to confirm Jane had heard. Catalina watched the rain smack off her window, and she gripped the steering wheel tighter. She could only assume two things, neither of which she wanted to dwell on. Jane’s broken tone was already enough for Lina to rip the steering wheel right off the dashboard.

    “Don’t worry, Jane, I’m almost there,” Lina murmured, taking the turn at the intersection.

    It was a fight to not go over the speed limit, to which she was already surpassing. All the while she spoke words of comfort into the phone, Jane’s sobs echoing in her ear.

    She pulled to a stop in front of Jane’s apartment complex, and through the heavy downpour, she took notice of a petite blonde. Lina leapt from her car, hurrying to Jane’s side. She was seated under the small overhang of the building, but she was absolutely drenched.

    Mascara ran down Jane’s cheeks in rivers, the rain water spreading it over her face. Her blonde hair, which Catalina could only assume had once been wavy and conditioned, was soaked and mattered. Blonde strands plastered to Jane’s face, and her chin quivered as she forced back tears.

    “Oh, cariño,” Lina gasped, taking notice of Jane’s dress. “Usaste el nuevo.”

    A sob broke through Jane’s lips and she buried her face in her hands. Lina knelt down, gently pulling the blonde to the ground, and tucked the sobbing woman into her chest. Jane’s hands fisted into Lina’s coat instantly, and she cried into her friend’s neck.

    “Oh, Lina, I-I’m such an idiot!” Jane cried, knuckles jabbing into Catalina’s chest. “I should’ve listened to you! You were right; you were all right! I’m so stupid!”

    “No, no, querida,” Lina soothed, pressing Jane closer to her body. “You’re not stupid, never say that.”

    Jane shook with another sob. “B-But if I had just listened to you-” Jane paused to sniff, another sob choking out. “I-If I had just dropped h-him like you said, then you wouldn’t have to be h-here in the rain with me.”

    “Jane, no.” Lina sat back, holding Jane back to look her in the eyes. “It doesn’t matter what day it is, nor the weather. I’d come to you in a blizzard on foot if you needed me.” Shrugging out of her coat, Lina pulled the garment over Jane’s shoulders and pulled her in. “Now, how about you come with me? I have wine.”

    Another sniffle followed by a nod against her chest was all the confirmation Lina needed. She took Jane’s hands in her own, helping her to her feet. Catalina pulled the coat over Jane’s head while she opened the car door.

    Holding the door open, Lina helped Jane duck into the car. Once she was situated, Lina ran to the driver’s side and quickly dove in. The rain was pounding the roof of the car, the window being splattered with drops faster than the wipers could clean them.

    Jane was shivering in the seat, clutching Catalina’s coat tight to her body. Lina’s heart sank and she offered her hand to the woman. The blonde took it immediately, silent tears still flowing down her cheeks. The drive home was silent, golden eyes fixed ahead while azure focused down, hands intertwined.

    Lina scooped Jane out of the passenger seat, carrying her to the door and setting her down only to open the door. Jane kept her face tucked into Lina’s neck until they reached the bathroom.

    “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Lina whispered, cupping Jane’s sticky cheeks. Jane nodded weakly and Lina began searching for the make-up wipes.

    She pulled the wipes out and gently swiped it over Jane’s cheek. The blonde tensed, but slowly relaxed into the movements. Lina tossed the now-black wipe and pulled another out. This time, when she wiped Jane’s cheek, Lina felt her press into her touch. Her cheeks warmed with a pink dust, and she was thankful for Jane’s shut eyes.

    “Do you want to get a shower?” Lina gently brushed Jane’s arm, noting the goosebumps trailing up her skin. Jane nodded again, and Lina pulled a white towel out from under the sink. “You’re favorite color.”

    A tiny, watery smile tugged at Jane’s lips, and Lina mentally patted herself on the back. “I have an extra loofa in there, it’s the black one, and you can use my body wash and stuff.”

    She moved to leave the bathroom, when Jane let a small noise escape. Lina looked back and her heart melted at the sight of Jane brushing through her wet hair. “C-Can you wait outside? I don’t want to be alone…” Her voice drifted off towards the end, and Lina returned to her friend’s side.

    Taking Jane’s small, shivering hand in her warm ones, Lina looked sincerely into Jane’s eyes. “I’ll be just beyond the door, alright? You can shout to check.”

    Jane’s eyes softened, and a new emotion flickered in them. Lina slowly released the blonde’s hand and retreated from the bathroom.

    She stood outside of the bathroom for the entirety of Jane’s shower.

    Not once did Jane check if Lina had stayed.

    The bathroom door creaked open, and Lina stood up from the wall. Jane stepped close to her, wrapped in the towel. Her hand brushed Lina’s, and the taller woman took it gently. “I have a fresh load of laundry in my room,” she said, leading Jane to her bedroom. “I’ll get you something warm.”

    Lina found a sweater and pair of sweats that would hopefully tie tight enough for Jane. She left the blonde to change, and her jaw nearly hit the floor when she came back in.

    The sweater fell down to Jane’s mid-thigh, hanging off one shoulder. Lina’s face flushed and she coughed into her hand, attempting to hide her gay panic. Stop it. Jane needs you. Swallowing, Lina stepped into the room. “How’re you feeling?”

    Jane looked down, bringing her hands up to clutch her forearms. “Better, I guess,” she mumbled. Her drying blonde hair fell over her face in a curtain.

    Lina made her way towards the blonde. She placed a gentle hand on the small of Jane’s back. Suddenly, arms looped around Lina’s neck and tugged her in. Jane’s nose brushed the column of her throat, causing a blush to spread up the taller woman’s cheeks.

    “Thank you, Lina,” Jane whispered, voice tight. Lina smiled, wrapping her arms around Jane’s waist and setting her chin on her head.

    “Anytime, mi querida,” Lina murmured.

    They ended up on the couch, Lina reclined against the armrest once more with Jane cuddled into her side. Both nursed a glass of Spanish wine, eyes fixed on the TV. Lina threw occasional looks towards Jane, checking to make sure the blonde was okay.

    In truth, Lina wanted to ask her exactly what had happened. Jane was always down after dates with Henry, but never was she so upset to the point of crying. Taking a sip of her wine, Lina turned her gaze on Jane. “Do you want to talk about it?”

    Jane took a long sip of wine, lips remaining pressed to the glass. Lina bit her lip and set her glass down. “You don’t have to,” she added. “I just think it’d be best if I knew a little.”

    “No, you’re right,” Jane said, clutching the neck of her glass. “You deserve to know.”

    Lina set her hand on Jane’s shoulder, pulling her a bit closer. “Jane, I’m always gonna be here for you, alright?” She fixed her eyes on the blonde. “If you’re not ready to talk, that’s perfectly okay. I just want to know at some point.”

    Jane nodded, taking a small sip from her wine. Silence followed, to which Lina picked up her own glass and returned to watching the movie. If Jane didn’t want to share, that was fine with her. She’d wait for years if that’s what Jane needed.

    “He left me there.”

    She nearly choked on her wine, spitting it back into the glass. Jane looked at her with worried eyes, placing a hand on her side. Lina set her glass down and sharply turned to face Jane. “He what?”

    Jane bit her lip, averting her eyes from Lina’s. “He said he’d pick me up at nine,” Jane said. Her voice was tight with sadness and underlying anger. “He promised me. He kept telling me all week that it’d be great.” She faltered, staring down at her drink.

    Lina’s dread was replaced by rage. Jane had sounded so sure that Henry would make it up to her. She sounded far from excited, but she was hopeful. Even Lina had a tiny spark of hope that Henry would make an effort for Jane. But he hadn’t even bothered to show up!

    “I should have listened to you.” Jane sounded defeated, her fingers tapping the glass. “I guess that’s one thing he was honest about. I really am an idiot.”

    Lina slid off the couch and took Jane’s hands, holding them to her chest. “Jane Seymour, you listen to me.” She waited until Jane’s azure eyes met her golden ones. “You are a wonderful woman. You’ve been my dearest friend all my life, and I would rather freeze hell over than listen to you speak horrible things about yourself. You are such a kind woman, with a heart undeserving of the cruelty in this world.

    “You are not an idiot, and I will keep telling you this until you realize it’s true.” Lina moved her hands to cup Jane’s face, brushing her cheek lightly. “So please, all I ask of you, is to remember how truly remarkable you are; both inside and out.”

    Jane’s eyes glittered with tears, small streams glistening down her cheeks. She cupped one of the hands on her cheeks, pressing into it as she nodded. Lina smiled softly, stretching forward onto her knees to touch her forehead to Jane’s.

    “You’re so kind to me,” Jane murmured, a watery smile appearing on her face. Lina chuckled and kissed the blonde’s forehead.

    “Only ever for you.”

    The soft look of trust that flushed over Jane’s eyes, along with the tiny giggle, was enough to melt Lina’s heart. She pulled herself back onto the couch, and giggled as Jane snuggled back into her. As Jane’s head settled beneath Catalina’s chin, the blonde whispered, “Thank you, again, Lina. For everything you’ve done.”

    Lina pulled the blanket over the two and held Jane close. “I’ll always be here for you, querida.”

    The two stayed close, cocooned in the blanket as the Disney movie carried on quietly. Lina melted into Jane’s presence, burying her nose in soft blonde hair. She felt Jane smile against her neck and Lina placed another kiss on the crown of Jane’s head.

    “I love you, Lina.”

    Jane’s breath tickled Lina’s neck as she spoke. Her words sent goosebumps up Lina’s skin, but she replied without hesitation. “I love you, too, Jane.”

    And though she knew they both meant different things, one of platonic origin and the other romantic, Lina knew that Jane meant it. That she loved Lina as much as she loved Jane. And that was enough to make her forget about destroying Henry.

#six the musical #aramour #catherine of aragon #jane seymour #anna of cleves #katherine howard #anne boleyn #catherine parr #fanfic

[xbeautifulunseenx]

The NYADA Vegans Club

Summary: A cute guy catches Blaine’s eye and draws him to a meeting of the NYADA Vegans Club. Except Blaine is very, definitely not a vegan.

Read on AO3

"This meeting of the NYADA Vegans Club is now in session!"

Blaine jumped as the sound of a gavel hitting wood cracked through the air. The NYADA Vegans Club? Had he heard that right?

When he had followed that hot freshman guy into the room, he'd hoped it would be a meeting for something much more in line with his interests. He couldn't honestly sit through a meeting of a club that actively promoted not eating cheese for a guy he knew nothing about. Could he?

"I see many new faces this year, so let's go around and introduce ourselves. I'm Jay, the president of the NYADA Vegans. I've been a vegan for six years. And you?" Jay gestured to where Blaine stood half in and half out the doorway. "Will you be joining us?"

Blaine saw the hot guy give a small laugh at his expense as he tried to decide whether he was coming or going.

Coming, he decided upon making eye contact with his new crush.

"I'm Blaine and being vegan is something I've dedicated my life to."

He didn't know where the lie came from, but there was no taking it back once it was out. He watched as the guy's friend —a cute, small, brunette — poked his arm and made no secret of winking pointedly in Blaine's direction.

Introductions continued around the room until Blaine learned that the hot guy was named Kurt, a baby vegan of just 6 months, and his friend was named Rachel, a fellow lifelong vegan.

Blaine hadn't given much consideration to what might happen at a vegan club meeting, so he couldn't say he was surprised when anti-animal product PSAs began playing on a large screen in the room. Shortly after the videos ended, they were instructed to break, and when the meeting resumed, they would be writing letters to local restaurants encouraging the use of more vegan products.

With the excuse of wanting to stretch his legs, Blaine walked over to where Kurt and Rachel were helping themselves to cups of almond milk and dairy-free cookies.

"There he is!" he heard Rachel whisper loudly to Kurt. "Say hi!"

"Oh my god, Rachel, way to be discreet. Hi," Kurt said, extending his hand toward Blaine. "I'm Kurt, and this is Rachel, who has yet to master the art of subtlety."

Kurt's hand felt warm and perfect in his. "Blaine."

"We remember. The lifelong vegan. Impressive."

"Yeah," Blaine said, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the lie. "Thanks. So are you two freshmen? I think I recognize you from orientation."

"Oh phew," Kurt pretended to wipe his brow. "I thought I recognized you from orientation, too, but I didn't want to be the first creep to admit it."

Blaine blushed and looked at his feet, trying to figure out how to run from the room and never see Kurt again without looking like too much of a loser.

"Relax, Blaine." Kurt laughed and put a reassuring hand on his bare forearm. "I was kidding."

"Oh thank god, I thought I was going to have to switch schools."

They all laughed at Blaine's dramatics and continued on with a light conversation. Blaine was thrilled to notice that Kurt's eyes lingered on him as they spoke, and that he laughed the loudest at Blaine's jokes.

They chatted through the letter writing activity and stayed long past the end of the meeting, discussing their histories with show choir and their favorite musicals and what their upcoming college career could hold in store.

When they finally parted to go home to apartments on opposite sides of the city, Blaine couldn't deny that following Kurt into that meeting was the best dumb choice he'd ever made.

Blaine went back for the next meeting, and then the next. The subject matter may have been less than stimulating, but the scenery was gorgeous and the conversation wasn't bad either. He and Kurt were having a great time getting to know each other, but neither came right out and flirted openly or made plans outside of Vegan Club. Instead, they sent each other looks with dopey smiles on their faces when they thought nobody was paying attention, and blushed bashfully when they were caught.

When it became clear that neither of them would be making any moves, Rachel took it upon herself to intervene. She invited Blaine over for a five course vegan meal at her and Kurt's loft, and he accepted immediately.

While Blaine saw the merits of vegan products, and had even thoroughly enjoyed some of the snacks offered at Vegan Club, he couldn't say he was looking forward to an entirely vegan meal. But he was one to try anything, and since Kurt — who somehow got more attractive every time they saw each other — was involved, he would definitely be trying Rachel's feast.

"Blaine's here!" he heard Rachel yell from the other side of the door. He tightened his already too-tight grasp on the wine he'd had his roommate buy for him and waited for someone to answer his knock.

The heavy door slid open, and Blaine couldn't decide if he should stare at Kurt or the apartment. Kurt, as usual, won out.

"You look amazing," he said as he pulled a surprised, but flattered, Kurt into a hug.

"Thank you, so do you."

"Your apartment is incredible," Blaine gushed, looking around. "It's giving me chic RENT vibes."

"Kurt decorated most of it," Rachel told him from her spot by the stove. She lifted the spoon she was holding. "Broccoli vegan cheddar soup! Are you ready to eat?"

It turned out that vegan cheddar was not exactly Blaine's preferred cheese. And that meatless meatloaf wasn't his preferred entrée. There was a little hope for the vegan strawberry cheesecake. At least, it looked mouthwatering.

"Kurt made this one," Rachel announced as she set the plates in front of them. "He worked on it all last night, so I'm sure it will be wonderful."

Blaine took a bite and closed his eyes with the overwhelming deliciousness of the cake.

"Wow, Kurt, I've never had a vegan dessert so good. You've got to share the recipe with me!"

Kurt shook his head. "Sorry, secret family recipe."

"Oh well, guess you'll just have to keep making it for me, then," Blaine teased. He stood and headed to the kitchen. "Shall I get the new bottle of wine from the fridge?"

"No!" Kurt said, a little too loudly, pushing back from the table and beating Blaine to the fridge, standing in front of it. "You're our guest. Please sit and I'll get it."

Blaine returned to the table to find Rachel trying her best to hide a laugh, but he didn't ask.

After the dessert plates were cleared, they settled on the couch to watch a movie. At first, Blaine had thought Rachel was acting as Kurt's wingman by asking him to their apartment for dinner and a movie, and that she'd do the classic "I'm going to bed" and slip away to leave the two men alone, but she never did. She stayed the entire movie, curled up on the other side of Kurt. Blaine rested his hand on the couch next to him, inching his way toward where Kurt's hand lay, brushing their fingers together every so often and sending a jolt of excitement though his arm. He wanted to chance putting an arm around Kurt, but with Rachel so close, it would have been awkward.

By the time he hugged the two roommates goodnight and left, Blaine knew he couldn't waste any more time. He was going to ask Kurt out.

———

After enduring another excruciatingly boring Vegan Club meeting, Blaine finally asked Kurt on a date. His heart soared when Kurt said yes without hesitation.

That Saturday evening, Blaine and Kurt met in front of the student center on campus. After overtly admiring each other for a few seconds, Kurt spoke up.

"I'm really glad you had the balls to ask me out. I put on a good show of confidence, but when it comes to boys, that's all it is — a show. If you hadn't asked, we'd probably still be staring at each other all cutesy and pretending we only like each other as friends two years down the road."

"I'm glad too, then. I'm not afraid to make big moves. They almost always backfire on me somehow, but…" he shrugged. "Can't win if you never play the game!"

Kurt gave a laugh-snort. "You're like a walking motivational poster."

"Kurt," Blaine said, looking at him seriously. "You've gotta risk it to get the biscuit."

Their laughter carried them all the way to the restaurant, a small bistro tucked away from most of the nearby foot traffic.

Cozied up in the round, plush booth where they were directed, the waiter interrupted their conversation to take their order.

"I'll have the house salad with balsamic vinaigrette and a cup of the vegan minestrone soup, please," Blaine said, longing for something more substantial, but selecting the only vegan options on the menu.

Kurt gave him a weird look, then ordered for himself. "I would like the filet mignon."

Blaine's smile faltered. "What? Kurt! Are you falling off the wagon?"

"I need to tell you something." Kurt turned to Blaine, their waiter temporarily forgotten. "I am not now, nor have I ever been, vegan. I was only at Vegan Club that night because I promised Rachel I would go with her to the first meeting. Then I couldn't stop going because of...well, you."

Kurt's face looked terrified, like he was worried Blaine might up and leave the date due to his confession. Instead, Blaine laughed.

"Oh, thank god!"

"What?" Kurt seemed confused yet relieved.

"I've never been vegan a day in my life either. I'd noticed you from day one of orientation and I thought you were the cutest guy I'd ever seen. So I followed you into Vegan Club without knowing it was Vegan Club, because I thought you'd be more likely to go out with me if we shared interests."

"Oh my god. You can't be serious." Kurt was wheeze-laughing so hard he collapsed into Blaine's chest. Blaine put his arms around Kurt and pulled him closer before remembering the waiter who was slowly backing away from their table with an amused expression.

"Wait!" Blaine called. "I'd like to change my order to the six cheese pizza, if that's okay."

That only made Kurt lose it even further. "I can't believe this." He settled down enough that he straightened out and looked into Blaine's eyes. "You're perfect."

"You're perfect," Blaine responded.

"And we're perfect together," they sang the Wicked line at the same time.

The magic of the moment led them into a tender first kiss that knocked them sideways until Blaine pulled back just enough to whisper, "That amazing cheesecake you made last week wasn't really vegan, was it?"

#klaine #klaine fanfiction #beautifulunseen fic #strangely the only thing I’ve been motivated to write recently