#if my computer wasn't going through it i'd have A LOT MORE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellaa-writes · 4 months

Text

The Beast Within

author note: part 6, series list here. I did not think I'd be publishing this. I really thought I was going to abandon this series but I got a spark of inspo, thank god! Finally! So I hope everyone enjoys and also hope no one forgot about this series. Thank you for 400 followers and sorry I haven't been publishing anything. Writers block has been kicking my ass.

summary: Omegas are rare, in a world full of Alphas and Betas. Being a Omega was not only dangerous but they were highly sought after. After living your life has a Beta in disguise, you meet a scary Alpha, but not any normal alpha. But a gaint Apex Alpha who won't stop at anything to make you his.

tags: Alternative Universe. Female reader. Mean König. Lots of Angst. World building and character development. Not proof read. Apex König, Omega Reader. Omega/Alpha dynamics.

Sitting in his leather chair, thick thighs stretched out, elbows leaning on the arm of the chair. The soft glow of the laptop, the only light in the dark room, he was focusing on the faces in front of him. Watching on as one of his associates talked about the latest shipment of weapons, about some heat in the east, but König wasn't concerned, not yet anyways.

He tried focusing on their words but his mind kept drifting off to you. Still nude and curled up in your shared bed, your heat had passed so you packed up the soft blanket and furs into the closet. Still nagging him out how you needed your job, loved it even. But the only thing you should be loving is him and your hopefully soon to be off spring.

He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice his name being called. So far gone, lost in the maze of his mind. Only resurfacing when Simon cleared his throat. Fixing his posture he returned his focus to the screen again.

"Repeat." he said guttural, eyes shift to the shadow in the corner, sometimes he forgets the man is even there. The exact reason he has him around, besides his obvious loyalty and skills. "How do you plan on dealing with the problem." the voice rang through the computer.

Hmm, he thought to himself. It is best if he got ahead of the problem. "I'll have to see for myself." König answered. Looking to the ghost in the shadows, watching his head shake in agreement. The men on screen humming in approval.

A soft knock to the office door followed, König tensing. He quickly excused himself and closed the tab to the meeting. Silently demanding Simon to stay. Keep out of sight, he doesn't want to scare his delicate little flower.

You stood before the locked door, shifting back and forth on your feet. Sleep still heavy in your eyes, you woke cold and alone. After failing trying to find your heat source you got up from the bed finding yourself alone. Wandering the dark and quiet home, even with your minor adjustments this place still felt stiff and off. Similar to a hospital or doctor's office.

You can hear the hushed murmurs from behind the dark solid door. See the light from under disappearing before its being cautiously opened. Revealing your big Alpha looking down at you, his eyes soft.

"What are you doing up love." his voice rumbled out. Filling you up from your ears to your toes, wrapping you in a warm blanket. "I got cold, and you were gone." you told him. Trying to peak around him into the office you were not allowed in. "Why are you up?" you asked. It was a quarter to 2 in the morning. And it being a weekend you thought you'd have more time with König.

You soon learned he was a busy man, finding yourself alone most of the days. Not being allowed to leave the penthouse unless you got permission first which resulted in a lot of shouting matches at the guards on the door. You weren't ashamed to get nasty, teeth and claws bared. Demanding them to let you through or you'll have their balls. But they never heeded or backed down. Only answering to their Alpha, same as your own.

"Go back to bed little one. I'll be their soon." König brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. But you flinched away at his touch, upset at his words. "I don't want to, what are you doing so late. What's more important than me." you demanded from him. Trying to push your way past his strong build but failing.

Sighing in annoyance König guided your bodies out into the hallway and towards the main living area. He usually finds your attitude amusing but not in front of others. It makes him feel weak and on edge. Always having to prove his dominance his whole life.

"Stop it now." he growled, trying to control your now flailing body.

"Why do you always shut me out." you yelled at him. Your own annoyance and frustration shining through.

"Not now." he demanded. Puffing up his chest and lowering his voice. He knew you hated when he did it, usually causing you too heed and whimper. He knew it would only upset you further later but right now wasn't the time for this.

Knowing Simon was just down the hall, listening to what was going on. He never says anything but he can feel it. He knew if he let the leash go he'd have better control over you. He found it easy having someone else train his pups. Simon being the best, but König is also a jealous and heartless man. Not wanting another, specially another Alpha, break down his omega.

Konig knew he's being to soft with you, but if he was harsh and hard as the others. He wouldn't be able to live with himself, knowing you hate him. Knowing that he only views you as a toy and breeding machine.

You drop to your knees in defeat, neck exposed to your Alpha. A silent tear rolling down your cheek. But the anger kept building in your stomach, rotten and putrid.

It could be worse

Said the voice in the back of your mind, and you knew it was true. Your whole situation could be a lot worse. So you accepted defeat for now.

König pulled you up and rushed you towards the bedroom door. But you broke from him before reaching it, slamming the damn thing in his face for the 3rd time.

Leaving you to stew, he'll have to make amends later. Maybe another book, or the pair of shoes you were going on about before.

Returning to his office, noticing Simon took the liberty to get everything set up for the next step. Pushing you to the back of his mind has he needs all the focus he can get. He's preparing for a war, blood, guts and a lot of bullets. Always ready to strike first and ask questions later. The only reason why he survived as long as he has. Now it's not only him he's protecting, but you and the future.

König never came back to bed, once you woke hours later. The sun high in the sky, and the bustle of the city life on the streets below. Your heart sank a little, it felt like you were living on the sidelines of someone else's life. Only existing has an extension of someone, not having say over your life. You were stir crazy, getting cabin fever. You needed anything to do. Sitting out on the patios soaking up the sun wasn't doing it for you anymore. You were itching for more.

You went about your morning routine, something you developed after living with König for some time. Picking out your outfit, something fancy from the closet. Matching shoes and jewelry. You still did it all knowing you won't be stepping out of the home. If your lucky you might see one or two other living souls besides your reflection and König.

It was hard complaining about your situation. Everyone at your office thinking you gone off and married a rich business man. Living the high life, not needing to socialize with the lower working class anymore. And they aren't entirely wrong, just a week ago you convinced you boss to let you do some work from home. After forging König signature on a few documents, you were able to secure minimal work.

Setting up your station in the living room, at the make shift desk facing the big floor to ceiling windows. You set up your laptop gifted from König. Setting a notepad and pen next to you. It wasn't much but it served its purpose.

It was well into the evening when you wrapped up your work. If you were in the office the others would tease you for being slow. Always to the first to start and last to finish. But you prided yourself on your work, being slow and thorough made you the best.

Cleaning up your mess you moved to get ready for the night. Usually by now König would be home, but still no sign of life. At noon your checked to see if the goons were still at their door and they were.

Washing the day away you pulled on your favorite nightgown and slippers. Deciding on a frozen pizza and a can of diet Coke. Cuddling into your heated blanket on the big wrap around couch, watching your favorite shows.

You woke a few hours later, still on thr couch. The house casted in the moonlight, the tv long turned off. You abandoned your spot in search of your Alpha. Upset he didn't wake you or come see you when he got home. The possibility that he is truly mad at you this time.

Not finding him in your shared bedroom you made your way to the office. Not hearing anything from behind the door you knocked anyways. But nothing, you were completely alone.

Where was he?

Is he mad at you?

Why hasn't he come home yet?

Did he leave?

Is he hurt?

All these thoughts came rushing to you, your omega began whining in destress. Opening the front door, and immediately being greeted with one of König's men.

"Back inside miss." he rumbled out. "Where is he?" you asked back. Pushing yourself past the door frame. "Working, now back inside." you were told again. The man began backing you up into the apartment more, closing the door in your face once you were safe and sound inside.

Bastard.

You paced back and forth in the living room. Having called König a total of 16 times in a row. Leaving a voicemail each time, and leaving a text message after each call.

Where are you?

I'm sorry!

Please come home!

Please answer me!

You are scaring me!

What's wrong?

Did I do something wrong?

You couldn't stop your hands from trembling and from the tears spilling. Soaking your expensive blanket. Curling up around yourself as you wept yourself back to sleep. Saying a silent pray for König's safety and for him to call you back.

König watched has the last next message displayed on his screen.

Did I do something wrong?

A piece of him shattered inside, but he buried it down. Not letting it hinder the mission at hand. He needed to teach you a lesson but he couldn't help but feel ashamed of himself. But it's what needs to be done.

Shoving the damn phone back into his pocket he focused his attention back to the scene in front of him. Watching the show unfold, it was quiet boring. Never been a fan of the opera, mundane and boring. But he isn't here for the show, no he's here for the man two seats beside him, the private booths giving just enough shelter but still allowing him to keep eyes on the man. Vladimir Makarov, some Russian bastard stirring shit up.

Causing trouble for not only König but a few of the other powerful men he aligns himself with.

Studying the Alpha to see if he needs to be put down or tamed. A smirk forming on König's face thinking about thr fight. The Beast already barking and snarling just under his skin. Ready for just the smallest taste of blood.

Tag list: @plumdreadful @traumaramacenter @kaylp-godly @napalmfairy7 @hisa-plush @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @winters-doll @joyfulfxckery @purebeskar @collete25 @fandomsinthegalaxies @jamieelol @luc1ddreamersatnight @cringeycookies @whiskytoast @kit-williams @lyc0risequin0x

#cod mw2 #könig #konig #könig mw2 #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig call of duty #konig call of duty #könig x you #cod konig #cod könig #a/b/o dynamics #könig au #alpha konig #alpha könig

212 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

Note

AITA for lying to my friends due to a psychological disorder?

Ever since I (21F, american) was quite young (I would say around my 9 or 10 years) my mother noticed I had a tendency for lying, sometimes even for no reason at all. Some years after that I started going through therapy and psychiatric sessions and was diagnosed as bipolar and, more specifically, mythomania (compulsive/pathological lying, the diagnostic changed depending on which psychiatrist I went through). My manic episodes usually last longer than the depressive ones and, when those happen, I usually just lock myself from everyone in my bedroom (I rarely leave home even during manic episodes due to my own fear of anything bad that could happen outside)

And I'd say it's during those manic episodes that the bad things start to happen. Ever since my early 17s I started fabricating my own life to online friends since I have extreme difficulty making friends on real life. This ranged from stuff such as me saying that I'm disabled and that's why I don't leave my house (not true, I can do it when necessary but otherwise I am able bodied) and other simple, white lies to stuff like my relationship with my family and living condition.

It was in 2021 I think it started to go downhill. I still don't think I was in the wrong for it since, again, it is a mental disorder but I decided to come ask others too since the one friend I have that knows about it thinks I might be an asshole about this in specific.

Around 2021 I started playing a specific game with gacha mechanics. To this point, the image I had painted to most online friends (with the exception of that one friend) was of a girl on her 20s with a good relationship with her mother but a bad one with both her dad and brother (a lie, as our dad left us when we were children and I have a pretty good relationship with my brother), disabled and in bad living conditions. Because of that, it had been some time (since the beginning of the lockdown) since some of these friends started sending me money whenever I said I needed it for one reason or another (usually to buy food or necessities like hygiene products) and, since I didn't need it at all, I would just end up using it on stuff I enjoy like art supplies or makeup.

The moment I started playing that game though (which none of my friends knew about since they still thought I didn't have my own computer), I started spending all of that money on the game to pull for characters. It wasn't a constant thing but it got specifically bad on 2022, when a character I really enjoy was released.

I still think it's not that bad since none of them gave me a lot of money anyways, but after what I already had was spent on the game and I didn't have any money to buy the currency, I went to the discord servers venting channel and started writing by impulse stuff like how my dad had evicted me and me alone from the house after I stood up to him and now I was living in my cramped old car on the streets with no food, clothes etc. Some of those friends got extremely worried or something like that and ended up sending me more money than usual so I could 'pay for a hotel' until I had time to get government support etc (I don't really know how that works anyways, but I said I'd try and thanked them a lot for it and said that as soon as I was safe I'd draw something for them as payback but I never did because it wasn't really like it was a commission anyways) and I spent it on the game to get the character and I did!

I had to keep the lie about being homeless and then getting government support ever since and last month me and my "real life partner" (not real but i made it up a few months before this so i just used it as a excuse that he was working to get us both a place to stay) were finally in a safe apartment. However, one of those online friends knew about my condition and started to suspect about it all and got angry at me for no reason, saying that I was stealing from my friends and being unfair on even denying that to her. After that she blocked me but I was able to lie to the server that she had threatened me and implied I was lying about it all which wasn't true because that was my real living situation.

I still don't think I am in the wrong, they all did offer it to me on their own after all and I already spent it so there's nothing I can do. Am I the asshole for lying due to a mental health condition?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

283 notes · View notes

hopelessrromantix · 9 months

Text

Part 2 to this

Miguel had first met you a very long time ago.

By then, he was Spiderman, seeking out one of your partners they'd gone slightly rogue.

The only thing he hadn't realized then, was that your project had affected you too, creating a symbiote that attached itself to you.

After many encounters in and out of your suits, you and Miguel got along surprisingly well.

Until you'd sacrificed yourself for him. Sure he was alive, but he always regretted not knowing you better.

And when he found a universe where he was happy, he got to see your face again.

An alternate version of yourselves had gotten both your powers under control. You started a family, adopted a daughter, and settled down to have a normal life.

Until he replaced his dead self.

At first it was… nice.

Not just being with his daughter, but you too.

He regretted not knowing you even more after that. His life picked up where his alternate self had left off.

And when everything came crashing down, you let him carry your daughter. He could see the mix of pain and shock in your eyes as you faded away, breaking apart into nothing.

Soon, Miguel was alone again.

And now, in an alternate world, you were Spiderman. He should've expected it, really.

"You should leave, Y/n." Lyla imitated, puffing up her chest and placing her hands on her hip. Miguel didn't expect her glare to be so effective.

He only rolled his eyes, walking back toward his computer.

"See, that's my impression of you saying something dumb." Miguel stayed quiet, swiping through data he'd left open, organizing his space. "You didn't even answer when he asked if you knew him. What's going on with you? We both know you wanted to talk to him."

Miguel's eyes narrowed. "It's not that simple. I'm dead in his world and he's dead in mine, we can't go rewriting history and destroying Y/n's Canon."

"Oh please," She scoffed. "Forget the 'High and Mighty' schtick, trying experiencing emotion for, like, two seconds and talk to him."

Miguel whipped his head toward her, but she had already disappeared, probably anticipating his argument.

He let out a heavy sigh into the stagnant air. He missed you more than he wanted to admit, even if he never got to know you nearly as well as he wanted.

For days, Miguel attempted to process the conversation.

You hadn't come to find him since he'd told you to leave days before, but he'd seen you around. You usually blended into the crowd right after, making him feel slightly guilty about telling you to leave.

He just brushed it off, going back to his work.

You, on the other hand, had no such plans.

Miguel was stubborn as an ox, but you weren't about to give up just because he asked you to leave.

If there was any hope he'd hear you out, you'd be willing to take the risk.

"What are you doing here?"

A question you expected to get. It was so much harder to answer when he was staring at you.

"Any chance we could talk?" You asked, half expecting him to close the door right there.

To your surprise, he stepped back, leading you into his (oddly dark) workspace.

"Let me j-"

"I wanted t-"

You both froze, hearing the other speak. You chuckled, gesturing to him.

He sighed, taking a breath. "I wanted to apologize."

"You did?" You blinked at him. Apologies weren't Miguel's thing (unless you made it clear you expected one)... maybe he was more different than you thought.

Miguel's expression was stiff, his mind still focused on you. "When you were alive, I didn't know you as well as I wanted to."

He watched your face shift, first in confusion, then in understanding.

You didn't need to hear it all right now. Or maybe he just wasn't ready to tell you.

But either way… "I'd like to get to know you now."

"Yeah! Yeah, I'd like that too." You agreed, nodding your head before remembering why you'd come in the first place. "I'm sorry for springing everything on you. I mean, it's a lot all at once… I didn't mean to force you to talk to me."

He nodded slowly. "You didn't. I… I want to do this."

"You do?" You asked again. Whether to be certain or just to hear him say it again, you didn't know.

"Yes."

And you felt truly, unashamedly happy for the first time in far too long.

#male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #atsv

356 notes · View notes

waffled0g · 11 months

Note

how good is Hypnospace Outlaw at the 90s aesthetics?

I haven't played Hypnospace! It looks fun!

But looking at the trailer and some gameplay videos... well, don't get mad, but this is exactly the kind of stuff I wrote my article in faux protest about.

It's not wrong, it's not bad, not saying that. There's truths in there about 90s design. But if you're asking me, the game has a thick layer of Vaporwave over everything. It just comes across as fake 90s to my tastes, personally.

But I think that was the point. I think that's what Tendershoot was going for. It's a surreal game about surfing the web in your sleep, right? So the design isn't going for accuracy, it's more that dreamy fantastical look people remember (or misremember.) It works for them!

Like, I like the key art! That's pretty good. CGI head in space would have been right at home on a Trapper Keeper. That USB cord should have totally have been a serial port instead tho.

And this box art is chef's kiss. I feel like I'd see this on a textbook in computer class.

What I've seen of the actual game though? Hmmmm. You're asking a web designer here for an opinion, and this is a game all about web design. Like they get some stuff right. UI is a lot of fun, down to the Winamp-style skeuomorphic buttons in some of the screenshots.

But for something that's supposed to be set in '99, that's a huge overuse of pastel pink and purple gradients. It's like an Instagram filter over the whole thing. That's Vaporwave, and while it looked cool in 2018 that's not really what was going on at the time.

The MS-DOS sized pixel text bugs me when they should have gone with Windows 98-style higher resolution. They seem to run all their images through an aggressive dithering filter when in reality, JPGs existed too. But it's funnier to have all those crusty GIFs in there, that ages the art more. And is that a poop emoji button? An emoji in a 90s game?

Sorry, that sounds like I'm picking on a game I haven't played. Not trying to knock down any Hypnospace fans. The game looks fun! I'm just being a design nerd and taking a magnifying glass to something I've never seen before today. If you love the look of the game, that's valid! I like Vaporwave too. But Vaporwave is its own separate thing.

So, real quick, let's talk Vaporwave. It's important to understand Vaporwave is evocative of the 1990s, but wasn't an actual thing in the 1990s. The point of Vaporwave is it's meant to be a surreal parody version of the decade, as seen through the lens of the 2010s. I think what happened over the past decade was everyone forgot it was a parody and took it at face value. Vaporwave and 90s just became equals.

And that's how we got this:

What I wanted to share with you all was Vaporwave and Memphis style graphics are starting to be like THE ONLY representation of the decade. I wanted to share that there's more out there to pick apart and use for retro throwbacks.

Maybe further into Hypnospace they get into that other stuff? Thanks for tipping me off about the game! I'll add it to my Steam list.

;-)

#90s #vaporwave #hypnospace outlaw

344 notes · View notes

thezombieprostitute · 25 days

Text

Always the Bridesmaid

Summary: after years of always being the bridesmaid, your sister's wedding suddenly nets you the interest of two incredibly handsome, charming men.

A/N: entirely written on my phone. Not proofread or edited. All mistakes are my own.

Part 2

Another wedding, another bridesmaid dress for the collection. Between family and friends you'd been to more weddings than you care to count and never for yourself. No, that would require meeting someone who wasn't an asshole and was actually interested in you. You did enjoy seeing your friends so happy at these things. The open bar didn't hurt, either.

It was the wedding of your youngest sister, being held at the fanciest hotel the families could afford, and you were being paired up with one of the groom's best friends. Nick was damn handsome and so very polite when you were introduced at the rehearsal. He even pulled out your chair for you at dinner. It was refreshing to meet a tall, handsome, charismatic man with manners.

The two of you talked for as much as you could during the rehearsal and dinner. He seemed to genuinely enjoy your stories. His eyes sparkled whenever he smiled and it made you swoon.

Turns out he's a high ranking CIA official. When you expressed how impressive that is he got a little shy saying, "well, it takes a lot of work which doesn't leave a lot of time for socializing. I'll admit, it's kinda... Not depressing, that's not the right word. But my youngest friend is getting married and I'm just feeling my age."

"I get that," you console. "He's marrying my youngest sister. Meanwhile I can't get a guy past a few dates."

"I find that hard to believe," he purrs. "A pretty, intelligent woman like you?"

"That's very sweet of you, Nick. Though clearly untrue or else I'd have attended my own wedding by now."

A small hubbub of activity starts up from the groomsmen, getting your attention. Nick chuckles, "we gotta get the groom out of here for the night." He takes your hand and kisses it, "promise me you'll save me a dance tomorrow?"

"Of course," you smile. "And thank you."

Nick smiles and heads out with the other groomsmen.

A while later you get back to your hotel room only to realize you've lost your room key. Searching through your purse and pockets and you can't find it. Resigning yourself to the embarrassment you head to the front desk to request a replacement.

The man at the desk is tall and fit with a very calm, approachable demeanor that you're sure isn't just a work thing for him. He projected an air of calm, patient confidence.

"Umm, please excuse me," you say softly, trying to be at your most polite for interrupting whatever he was working on.

He smiles as he looks at you, "how may I help you, Madam?"

"I lost my room key," you start. "I'm so sorry. I really don't know where I could've lost it and I'm so very sorry and-"

"It's quite alright," he interrupts with a smile. "These things happen. Now, what is your room number?"

You relax a little under his polite gaze and give him your name and room number.

He looks it up in the computer before saying, "for security reasons I will need some ID."

Thankfully the only thing missing from your purse was the key and your wallet was still intact. You hand him your driver's license and he confirms the information before handing it back to you.

"May I escort you to your room and make sure the keycard works," he asks. "I would hate for you to have to make more trips than necessary."

"That works for me. Thank you so much!"

"It's no trouble at all," he says in such a way that you believe him.

As you're walking back to the room the two of you strike up a conversation. It turns out he's regularly going between hotels in the chain and making sure they're up to snuff.

"It must be nice to get to travel so much," you sigh. "I so rarely get to do so."

"Well it can be nice," he nods. "But it can also be quite lonely. Events like your sister's wedding really strike home how nice it would be to have a travel companion."

"I find it hard to believe someone like you doesn't have anyone," you scoff. "You're far too handsome and charming."

He blushes a little and smiles, "I won't deny having occasional company but it's only ever for an evening or two. I would truly enjoy something more consistent."

"I understand," you nod. "I haven't been able to get more than a few dates out of any guy I've gone out with. It would be lovely to have something that lasts."

"Now it is my turn to scoff," he smiles. "A woman as enchanting as you would have no problems winning over the heart of any man."

"Tell that to all of my dates."

"I would gladly do so, Madam," he takes your hand, "if it would make you happy." He gently kisses the back of your hand as you reach your room. He confirms that the keycard works and hands it to you.

"Thank you, so much, for all of your help, Sir."

"Call me Jonathan, please," he smiles.

"Gladly," you giggle.

"If I'm being too forward, please feel free to tell me 'no' but, would you be willing to save a dance for me tomorrow?"

"I'd love that, Jonathan."

If, if, and IF you can make a convincing argument for both I will consider. I will not be partaking in the voting so I will not know who is winning until the end of the poll.

Tagging @alicedopey and @rayofdawnworld because they inspired this.

Tagging @icefrozendeadlyqueen because I promised I would.

Part 2

#nick fowler x reader #jonathan pine x reader #nick fowler #Jonathan Pine

52 notes · View notes

beekeeperspicnic · 9 months

Text

What I've been getting up to without my computer

Since I don't have any game updates at the moment I thought I'd give you a look at my very analogue Sherlock Holmes related project!

As you probably know, the Sherlock Holmes stories were mostly originally published in the Strand Magazine which came out as floppy monthly magazines with hardback collections every six months.

A while ago I spotted a really beaten up copy of the July to December 1893 book on eBay for £8. This book can sometimes go for £200 in good condition because it's the one with...

I immediately decided to make repairing it a Project!

You can see here that the text block has totally come away from the boards.

Along the spine I was really excited to see something a little familiar being used to give some structural support! My initial thought was that this had to be a slice of a cover of one of the floppy Strand magazines.

But when I got it loose and studied it, although the paper and ink colour is the same, it doesn't actually follow the layout format of the Strand covers. It's lots of little ads, and they run off the bottom like this is part of a larger document.

Scrap of paper on left, a Strand Magazine on the right:

So yeah, that's still a bit of a mystery, but it's cool to see this scrap of paper the printers had lying around. I had to remove it, but I'm going to keep it safe.

I did some gentle cleaning of the cover using a putty eraser, just gently pressing and rolling, never rubbing. It picked up a little of the grime.

The cover had got some paint splotches on at some point in the past, and I tried to gently remove these. Part of me wishes I'd left them as I think I was starting to effect the blue colour in the area.

(Original on the right, my attempt at cleaning on the left!)

I also reinforced some of the parts of the bookcloth around the spine that were very worn with Japanese tissue, which is very thin but very, very difficult to tear.

Now here's a fun part, with some help from my cat Miss Malkin!

The spine of the book had a few problems.

The fabric which wraps around it and helps attach it to the cover/boards which is called scrim (or mull, I've seen it called both!) had totally decayed and turned into gross dust, I knew I'd need to replace it.

Although the sewn binding was sound, I could tell that the glue wasn't doing its job anymore. It was old 'animal glue' that had turned hard and brittle. I knew I'd need to replace it with something else, like PVA.

I needed to get that glue off, so I tried out a trick I saw online. I made a paste/gel out of methycellulose, which is a substance that gets used as a thickener in lots of food products. Of course I keep mine in a fancy little jar:

The gel softens the old glue without getting it dangerously damp, allowing you to gently scrape it away. I have a really satisfying video of me doing it, but Tumblr only lets you upload one video per post, boo.

Look at all this gnarly gunk!

But look at how good the text block looks with its new scrim and glue!

I got the black paper from Shepherd's in London which is a specialist Art & Conservation Paper shop (they have a book bindery too but it's closed at the weekends.) Buying it was so fun, I got to look through lots of samples and pick something which matched the original paper.

I then had to get it home half way across the country on public transport. Yaaaaay.

I was trying to think what I was going to use to replace the Strand Magazine page on the spine. In the end I decided to leave a little note, for some future person who might take the binding apart someday!

So, here it is!

I have to admit that this whole project has been a real challenge, emotionally more than anything! It's required me to be brave about messing with an old book, and to acknowledge that even where I've made mistakes, at least it's better off then it was when It arrived at my house.

#strand magazine #book restoration #bookbinding #old books #vintage books #history

190 notes · View notes

citrinesparkles · 1 year

Text

take a break

jason todd x gender neural reader. 595 words. notes: requested by the ever-lovely austen anon for my valentine's celebration! so sorry for the wait, love- i don't even want to acknowledge how much trouble this gave me. happy st paddy's for anybody celebrating! warnings: picking at fingernails, reader's stressed out and hangry, i think that's it!

"you're doing it again."

jason's voice gently dragged your attention away from the work you were poring over, bringing it to the fact that you were indeed picking at your nails.

"dammit," you muttered, clenching and unclenching your fists before very pointedly laying your hands on your keyboard. right where you could see them. "thanks, jay."

"mhm."

you and he returned to your peaceful co-existence, sitting on the bed and at the desk respectively, the only consistent sounds the jazz he had playing quietly and the rain hitting the window.

it was peaceful.

or it would have been, had your stomach not been in knots over the tasks staring you in the face. all you wanted to do was turn your computer off, throw your phone in a safe and forget the combination, and curl up into jason's side for the rest of the day.

with a sigh, you threw yourself back into your reading.

you made some progress, the words actually making sense this time- right until your boyfriend sniffled.

such an innocent action. he probably didn't even realize he did it; but you did.

and it threw you out of your rhythm.

you swore under your breath, letting your head fall forwards to thunk against the desk almost childishly.

you felt his eyes on you. "that bad, huh?"

"yes," you groaned into the desk. "that bad."

"maybe-"

"i don't really want advice."

there was the sound of fabric across fabric and the quiet creak of the bed, and then there was a hand on your upper back. "okay."

"i just- i don't want to do this."

"i know."

"i'm tired, i've got a headache, my neck hurts. my eyes hurt. my eyelids hurt. i just want to go to sleep."

he hummed, rubbing small circles in between your shoulder blades.

"i'm so sick of this shit." you took a deep breath, letting it out in a heavy sigh. "alright, what's your genius idea?"

"i wouldn't say ge-"

"jason."

"sorry," he said, grin fully audible. "how about a break to eat?"

"groundbreaking," you said dryly.

"i said i wouldn't call it genius."

you rolled your eyes. "it's not an awful idea, either."

"considering you didn't have breakfast-"

"alright," you groaned. "alright. food."

jason, damn his ass, was right. food did help.

but so did getting to curl up into his side on the couch, far away from both computer and phone, so he wasn't the only one that was right. so there.

now, here, away from the brain-melting screen and despair inducing deadline, with jason- wonderful, caring, genius jason- holding one of your hands loosely in his own against your shoulder, things somehow seemed a lot more manageable.

and his jazz- streaming through one earbud for each of you- was much more "smooth, lovely mood music" than "the very last straw", now.

funny how that worked.

funny how his rhythmic tapping on his thigh and low hum were the sweetest sounds you'd ever heard when you weren't neck-deep in reading.

"i like you a lot more out here," you said dryly, squeezing his hand.

"out here, or after food?"

"...no comment."

he chuckled, resting his head against his. "i'd see through it anyway."

"cocky."

"observant," he said playfully, "and therefore confident."

"confident, cocky, potato, potahto."

"only if potato is justified and potahto is not."

you huffed out a laugh despite yourself, rolling your eyes. "oh, shut up. i'm listening to art."

he made a zipping motion over his lips, and you snuggled further into his side.

your work could wait a little while longer.

#citrine writes #being me is just one big game of 'lemme go search my masterlist and make sure i didn't already use that title'#boy. i am rusty. hope this lives up to your hopes aussie my beloved!#jason todd #dc #dc imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #imagines #gn reader #dc comics #dc comics imagine

374 notes · View notes

knitnightstudio · 6 months

Text

Rings of Our Flag Means Death

This is somewhat conjecture but I have a theory about Ed's rings on Our Flag Means Death and I need to get it out of my head and written down. I'd be thrilled if @davidjenks could confirm but I understand if he's too busy!

I'm sorry about how bad these pics are, because of how Max blocks its content I had to take photos of my computer rather than screen grabs.

My theory is that the bright green ring Ed wears in Season 2 belonged to Stede and that when Ed destroyed the ship right after Stede left in season 1 Ed found the ring and kept it. I am basing this on nobody wearing it in Season 1, it being way too big for Ed, it being Stede's color, and Ed not getting rid of it when he gets rid of the "poisoned" loot. As you'll see below, Stede's rings are canonically too big for Ed. There is NO reason for Gypsy Taylor to make Taika Waititi wear a ring that doesn't fit unless there was a specific reason for the ring.

Additionally, When Ed gets rid of all the treasure in 2x6 why would he keep the ring if it was part of the plunder? There is no way he'd keep it unless it meant something important to him.

Then Ed throws his leathers overboard but he STILL keeps the green ring. Why would he do that if it was part of what the leathers meant to him?

It HAS to have a different meaning, and I believe that meaning HAS to be Stede.

We all know that Ed kept Stede's black tie after they switched clothes in 1x4. He wears it through most of season 1. He has a history of keeping part of Stede close to him.

You can't see the tie in season 2 until he has decided to drive the ship into the storm, so sometime between when he leaves Izzy with the gun, and when he tells Frenchie to let him steer the boat he put the scarf back on. After he and Stede are reunited we don't see the scarf again until it is placed on Izzy's grave. Why?

I think it's because the crew knew that the scarf belonged to Stede. If Ed had worn it prior to driving into the storm the crew would have definitively known that sweet Ed was still in there. Clearly they knew why Ed was behaving in the way that he was, but I think Ed probably thought he wasn't being so obvious.

He could wear the ring and thus keep Stede close to him because nobody had seen it before and would just assume it was from a plunder, not as a reminder of Stede.

Stede could have given it to Ed before they got separated, I'm assuming if he had we would have seen that. But regardless if Stede gave it to Ed or Ed took it, the fact remains it HAS to be Stedes as far as I'm concerned.

Once Stede and Ed are reunited he doesn't need the scarf anymore. It's too reminiscent of the life he wanted to leave, but the ring symbolizes Stede without the pirate baggage.

_______

These are Ed's rings in season 1. I have watched pretty darn closely and other then when he and Stede change clothes, they remain the same all season. AND THEY FIT HIM.

This is Ed wearing Stede's rings. They are clearly too big for him. All of them are sideways nearly the entire time he wears them.

In 2x1 Ed is suddenly wearing this ring. It's a bright green rectangular stone being held in by 4 prongs. It is NOT seen in season 1. The image below is from the sequence of them going on all the raids and is the only clear pic i could get of the green ring in 2x1.

You can see it a lot more clearly in 2x2.

It also does NOT fit Ed well, just like Stede's other rings from 1x4. He wears is all season except in 2x5 when he doesn't wear any rings. He does wear it in 2x8 I just didn't take a picture. You can see it most clearly when Ed puts his hand up when he is trying to save Izzy.

Ed gets rid of his leathers but keeps the green ring

95 notes · View notes

lemonnsss · 7 months

Text

Moral of the Story pt.2

Warnings: cheating, illusions to sex, angst, not BETA'D we die like men.

A/N: It's finally here! Sorry for making y'all wait two extra weeks, enjoy!

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4

Taglist: @vicmc624, @mostlymarvelgirl, @yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy, @moonlightreader649, @whattheduckisupkyle, @chrisevans-realwife, @nekoannie-chan, @mrsbarnes32557038, @imyourbratzdoll

Word count: 1.2k

Within a few days, I'd moved across the country. Even though anyone from Xavier's could fly over without warning, I thought it would be good for me. I wanted to escape Jean and the heartache she brought with her. Jean had everything. I had left, she had Logan, and I'm sure she would find a way to manipulate Scott again. Just like always done.

Given the circumstances, I wasn't looking forward to my return as a teacher. I had worked as a secretary for a lawyer through college to be able to pay for tuition, and I decided that would be my best bet.

I sat in my bed at the hotel, craning my neck at my laptop screen. Finding a job here was a lot harder than I had anticipated. After a few hours, I had finally found a decent opening. It was a higher-level position at a conglomerate major enough for even me to have heard of. I suppose it's not shocking how much the former CEO is always in the news. A fact that makes sense with the understanding that almost every eligible lady threw herself at him and, oh, how could I forget, one of his board members and most trusted advisors had tried to kill him. Twice.

I set up the meeting for the day after tomorrow, fearing that the next day would be filled with an intense migraine, a common side-effect of driving past 2 A.M. trying to make it to California in the shortest time possible. I got up, placed my computer on the provided desk, plugged it in, and begrudgingly moved to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

The next day came, and for the second time this week, I'd been right in the type of way I loathe. When I got up, I could barely move, my muscles aching after spending the past few days stuck in my car, only taking a few long breaks to get some rest and about a half dozen times each day for food, drinks, and the restroom. Changing into something comfortable, I left my hotel room. The search for a decent coffee shop now beginning.

After about half an hour, I found a place that looked decent enough. I walked in, and it felt like all eyes were on me. The feel of burning gazes, the sudden urge to make myself as small as possible, and the waves of dread crashing down on me. My symptoms of anxiety. An all too familiar feeling. I looked up at the menu, order already in mind.

“Hi! I’ll get a hazelnut latte with almond milk if you have it. Oh, and it says on the menu that there’s a white chocolate scone. I’ll have one of those as well.”

“Okay, an almond-hazel-latte with a white scone. Who’s it for?”

“Uh, Kyrie.”

“Okay, Kai. Someone’ll call when your order’s done.”

“Okay, thank y-“

“Please, go find a seat.”

I backed away awkwardly. Slightly raising my arms, hands up in thumbs up. I walked away, putting my arms down, looking for a table to work at.

To no surprise, most tables were empty. For those occupied, their occupants were dressed in semi-professional attire, almost definitely catching up before going to work; the separation between their lives and my own shifted into something all the more evident.

After about ten minutes, a barista called for the fake name I had given them. I got up and grabbed my order.

I sat at a table away from the windows and took out my laptop. I opened my email, checking for any new correspondents, to see almost 200 new emails, over half of which were from Logan and the other teachers of Xaviers. I went to Logan's profile, blocked him, and used the search bar to delete his previous messages. I don't need to read the pity speech of someone who doesn't value me as even a human being.

I scrolled through and saw an email from Scott, an unusual occurrence for him. I clicked to open it but didn't get the chance to read it, the screech of someone pulling at the table's other chair making it exceptionally difficult.

“Why are you- why did you sit down?”

“I’m hiding from my bodyguard who is very determined to stay aware of my whereabouts. Even if he thinks it’s me sitting with you. He won’t interrupt our conversation. So, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" said a man with dark brown hair in an expensive-looking suit, "You're new around here aren't you?"

Great. Preppy, rich white guy hiding from his bodyguard, the horror. I laid my head on my hand and took a sip of my coffee.

"And how would you know if I was? My attitude, my dress, perhaps an unusual drained look plastered on my face." A cheeky tone in my voice. It didn't matter if I was exhausted; this could be fun.

"I was going to say your accent, but sure, let's go with one of those."

"What do I get?" I took a bite of my scone. It wasn't as good as I had hoped but not far from what I had expected.

"I'm sorry, pardon?" Moved his torso to face me.

"What do I get if I don't rat you out?"

"You get a conversation with me, not something afforded to most." He leaned back.

The door rings. A bigger man in a suit with short, curly hair, a goatee, and sunglasses walks in. The man in front of me gives me a slightly urgent stare.

"I want a favor. Anything, anytime. Within reason, of course."

"Okay, fine; that works for me, just well, you know help." His voice was now a low whisper.

"Pleasure doing business with you," I say as I grab him by the tie, pulling him into a kiss. After a few seconds, I pull away slightly. I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on his supposed bodyguard. The man in question was looking the other way, an almost abashed look on his face.

"Wow, I was not expecting that."

"I'd recommend getting used to it, sweetheart."

His bodyguard took a final look around the room, figuring his client was somewhere else. Just as he entered he left, without a single word.

Hearing the door close he leaned back stretching almost, "So, what do you want? Money, political support, a fun time maybe. I mean with the kiss you gave me I would think the last of which."

"I'll pass. I just moved here, and I need a job. So, If my interview tomorrow goes to shit, your company or whatever you do is the backup now. Congrats!" My voice was now full of sarcasm.

"Hand me your phone, now. Don't be shy." I opened and closed my hand repeatedly to affirm my statement.

"Pushy, are we?" He sat up lightly and pulled out the latest iPhone. I should have expected that. I grabbed it and slid the lock screen open.

"Really? You don't have a password? Mr.," I paused with the new knowledge of who this man was, "Mr. Stark. Know what? I'll call in that favor right about now."

97 notes · View notes

memory-and-sky · 8 months

Note

HIIIIIIIIIIIIII MATT HOW YA DOING SWEETHEART?

I saw that you wanted requests and decided to jump in on that 💗

How about Hobie x reader where they are on patrol and reader just drops the most philosophical sentence just out of the blue and Hobie is like

Wtf how are you the most interesting and smart person ever?

Would that be nice? If not feel free to ignore dude

(PS: drink water and take care of yourself 💗 love ya)

this is such an awesome request, thank you for this! i took a few creative liberties, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless :3 !!

word count: ~700

containing: swearing, mentions of death/dying (nothing too in-depth), not quite dating but a little more than friends, hobie x gn!reader, just talking about stuff on a roof together

the rest of the fic is under the cut!

philosophical shit. hobie x gn!reader

(aka what i think about past 9pm)

You and your work partner, Hobie, had just gotten done containing another malicious anomaly in some random universe.

The sun was just beginning to set, though, and you thought you'd stay until it fully settled, until the stars came out. Then you’d clock out and go home.

It was a gorgeous, clear evening. You felt the cool wind blow through your hair as you sat on the top of a decently tall building, glad to be mostly done with your work for the day.

Suddenly, you heard an all too familiar voice from behind you. "Mind if I join ya, mate?"

It was Hobie, of course.

"Sure. Thought you were heading back now, though.." You craned your neck, and leaned back to look at Hobie as he walked over to sit next to you.

"Soundin' like ya don' wan' me around, love." He chuckled to himself, sitting down cross-legged, and gazing out into the colourful sky with you.

It was beautiful. Your universe was never really this pretty.

"Wasn't half bad back there, eh?"

"You or me? I think I did most of the work there." You offered a small smile.

Hobie laughed. "Fuck off, ya wanker. Seemed equal 'cause I had to save your sorry arse. Shoulda given me so much as a plain 'thanks, 'obie' 'n I'd be chuffed."

You sighed, looking down as you fidgeted with your hands. Looking back up at the changing sky, you couldn't help but think of what could've happened, had Hobie not been there to save you.

I mean, you could've probably handled it, but what if you didn't?

"You know, I always have felt sort of unhappy with myself. My life, and whatever. Whenever something like that happens, it always scares the shit out of me and makes me think about dying a lot more vividly and realistically."

You shift to lay down on your back, arms supporting your head. "Fuck, for all I know that could be my canon event... dying. It really fuckin' puts stuff into perspective. The whole canon events thing, I mean. How am I supposed to live life freely, and even just normally, when I know there's a goddamn model that a computer came up with that already dictates my entire life, birth to death? How am I important at all?"

Hobie stared at you, eyes a little wide, a little slack-jawed at your intelligent, observant remarks.

"Christ, ya good, mate?" He chuckled, regaining his usual smirk that seemed to be permanently plastered onto his stupidly attractive face. "Gettin' a bit serious there, yeah? Thought I lost ya for a sec. But, love, I do see what ya mean. 'S quite hard to feel like 'ur in control when 'ur entire bloody life seems planned out. Y'know, canon ain't always right, though. I didn't go through tha' whole stereotypical 'officer savin' a li'l kid' event, so 's able to be changed somewhat."

He shrugged, messing with a loose thread on his pants absentmindedly.

You nodded, resting your hands on your stomach. "Yeah… I know. I just feel like I'm stuck in a cage and I can't do anything about it until I'm dead."

"Mm, don' we all, love.." Hobie shifted over to grin down at you. He seriously tried to play it cool, but he was freaking out, and totally all nerves on the inside. You sounded so smart and educated, this whole interaction totally came out of left field.

Which was more than welcome, fuck, Hobie would be the first to admit that he loved discussing things like this with you. You were so confident in your words, and more importantly, how you said them, and it made you even more beautiful in his eyes. If that was even possible.

He adored every part of you.

Your dorky smile, all your imperfections… Hobie loved that you didn’t hide them and didn’t let people tell you shit, and just your whole personality... it'd take him forever and a day to list everything that he loved about you.

Especially now, you looked artistically beautiful. Like a painting, with all the warm colours swirling around you, illuminating your skin and basking you in the fleeting sunlight.

"Oh, Hobie,"

"Hm?" He snapped out of scanning every aspect and detail of you for a moment.

You leaned into him after sitting straight up, closer and closer, and then pecked his cheek. "Thanks."

All Hobie's blood rushed up straight to his cheeks, and he offered nothing but a blank stare, an awkward laugh, and a light touch to where you kissed.

"Y-yeah, mate... f'course,"

104 notes · View notes

darlingillustrations · 2 months

Text

I feel like I should be panicking more. My rent is due in one week, my landlord isn't friendly, and I have no one to ask for help. And yet? I have an eerie sense of calm about it.

I know the calm that happens when you are not actually calm but panicking and your body is helping you survive. This isn't that kind of fake calm. I am sleeping at night. I'm not snaping at my kids. I am *at peace.*

(Read more for musings about the economy, my spiritual mindset in the midst of it all, and some Mary Oliver poetry.)

Five years ago? I would be panicking and staying up late working long hours and burning myself out. But now? These days I'm working full days, then stepping back and cooking meals or working on projects for my kids. It feels more stable this time. I feel like I've matured.

I got a report in my email yesterday which showed that retail sales in January plunged 0.8% from December, far worse than the consensus forecast for a decline of just 0.2%, and the largest monthly loss since March 2023. On the one hand, it made me feel better that it's not just me. On the other hand, it sucks that lots of other people are struggling, as well.

Still, I make the time to meditate every morning. Still, I pull out my poetry books and take my life advice from Mary Oliver. In the poem One or Two Things she wrote:

One or two things are all you need to travel over the blue pond, over the deep roughage of trees and through the stiff flowers of lightning--some deep memory of pleasure, some cutting knowledge of pain.

You don't need to have all the answers. You just need to put one step in front of the other.

Last year when I launched my wholesale business, I drummed up over 1000 leads. I'd pick a city and use google maps or yelp to search for gift shops, stationary stores, coffee shops... anywhere that I thought might want my work... and I took the time to write a personal note to each and every one of these businesses. This month I decided to check back in with them again, and so many of the businesses are now closed or their email addresses no longer work.

Having exhausted these leads, I sat at my computer yesterday with the knowledge that I needed to wait on people to get back to me, that the wholesale leads were out of my hands. And that I still did not have money to pay my landlord. Not once did I fear I would join the list of closed businesses. I did not despair.

Instead, I turned to my first joy. I went back to the sales history on my website and found my very first customers from back in 2016 when I launched my web shop. I emailed them, each of those first customers, sending personal emails. I did not ask them to buy anything. That wasn't what I needed. I asked how they were, what they have been up to, where their lives have taken them.

I was searching for that deep memory of pleasure, that cutting knowledge of pain. One or two things is all we need, after all.

And I got one email back.

This woman was the first person to ever buy an art print in my online shop--a honeybee boy painting--and it is still hanging in her stepson's room, nearly 8 years later. She shared pictures of her new baby, and I shared the pictures with my kids. This woman had sent me many emails over the years, asking for life advice or encouraging me on a hard day. She shared that she didn't realize her emails had made such an impact on me.

Funny how none of us truly sees how impactful we are to those around us. Funny how life keeps going on, whether we worry about it or not.

In One or Two Things, Mary Oliver also wrote:

For years and years I struggled just to love my life. And then the butterfly rose, weightless, in the wind. "Don't love your life too much," it said, and vanished into the world.

I want my character to be defined not by what I do when things are easy but by how I carry myself when things are hard. And I do believe things happen for a reason. Maybe the line between delusion and faith is very thin, but the universe has shown me time and again that it's had my back. I've been in worse scrapes and still came out ok.

If you've read this far and you want to help me get through the next week, you can buy something from my shop or support me on Patreon.

And if you've read this far but you are in a similar boat, don't fret. We will find our way through the fires. one. step. at. a. time.

#mary oliver #capitalism #queer artist #support queer artists #patreon artist #darling illustrations #erin speaks

46 notes · View notes

supernaturalscribe67 · 7 months

Text

Sucker

Words: 6,602

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Gabriel x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Language (had to tell Dean to shut the fuck up a couple times), brotherly bickering

Summary: The reader is introduced to Gabriel, the famous trickster/archangel, for the first time, much to his brothers' dismay. What the reader didn't expect from their first meeting was to meet a rather handsome man with smooth talk to match. What happens when he starts to get feelings for the person that annoys Sam and Dean the most?

Request:

Do you write for Gabriel as well? If so, could you write something about maybe the reader being Dean and Sam's younger brother (the relationship was really cute in "aginst the grain" and "lucky", i'd also love ftm reader, but it's up to you if you want to make it specific or not) and Gabriel finally meets him, making the other two go kinda protective over that, it's Gabriel after all, he has messed with them a lot in the past. They'd probably go especially uneasy if Gabriel gets kinda flirty or if so does the reader.

Anonymous

A/N: Someone take my computer away from me. Once I start writing, I can't stop. This wasn't supposed to be that long but holy Hell, I guess it's this long. I hope I did your request justice and I hope I wrote Gabriel well! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

~ Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

(Y/N) loved having the first shower after a hunt.

The water was always hot, the perfect relaxer for his muscles that would undoubtedly ache the next day. Despite how long he had been hunting, certain aspects of the job made him feel like a rookie. Salt and burns were one example. That night, he had been tasked with helping Dean dig out the grave while Sam kept an eye out for security and any apparitions that would make a surprise appearance. For the first thirty minutes of digging the hole, he felt alive, like a rush of adrenaline was coursing through his veins. Perhaps the idea of committing a crime was to blame for that. Near the half-hour mark, he could feel the muscles in his arms beginning to strain, but the job had to be completed.

It took two hours to dig four feet to the coffin - he cursed the dry Southern weather for making the dirt so coarse - and by the end of it, his arms fell limp and weak at his sides. His legs felt some irritation from pushing the shovel into the ground, but they weren’t nearly as affected as his upper arms. He sent a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that the next hunt didn’t involve as much manual labor. If they did run into a ghost, he at least hoped the ghost held an attachment to an object that they could easily burn. Gravedigging was the last thing he wanted to think about.

He showered for forty-five minutes, longer than he had anticipated, but the water had placed him in an exhausted trance. Truth be told, he could have fallen asleep under the shower spray. He just hoped the cheap motel held enough warm water in their tanks for his brothers to experience some relaxation.

Motel towels were always scratchy on the surface of his skin. It was annoying, but there was some relief in knowing that the rough texture would guarantee a more thorough cleaning. Despite the cheap body wash he always snagged from the local dollar store, he never felt dirty leaving a motel bathroom. Once his body was dried, he put on his boxers and an oversized t-shirt, thankful for Walmart’s wide variety of sizes so he could conceal his chest. He placed both hands on either side of the sink, staring into the steam-covered mirror. He reached up, drew a small smiley face in the center of it, and watched as the eyes and mouth dripped. The warmth of the small room was comforting, and he was finding it difficult to leave.

A loud knock rapped on the door. “You gonna spend any more time in there? If I take a cold shower, I swear to God,” Dean’s voice came in muffled through the wooden door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t get your pretty silk panties in a twist,” he grumbled, and he could practically feel his brother’s eye roll through the door.

A sigh passed his lips as he looked at the smiley face he had drawn, which looked as if it had melted away in the hot sun. He reached a hand up and wiped the remnants of the picture away. As he retracted his hand, he could see his reflection in the opaque glass. Dark circles had begun to form under his eyes, a side effect from hunting. The endless, restless nights seemed to be getting to him and aged him more than he would have liked. He groaned as he straightened up, brought a hand up to his face, and ran his fingers over his eyes, nose, and cheeks.

When he opened his eyes again, instead of staring into a reflection that mirrored his presence, to his left, behind his shoulder, stood a man. Time froze. A playful smirk appeared on the man’s lips. He was short - compared to Sam and Dean, at least - with dark brown hair swept back neatly against his head. Stubble was placed along his jaw, chin, and upper lip. His sideburns were shaped with a slight point on the end of them, facing outward. He had a button-up shirt on, the top two buttons were undone to expose a small puff of his chest hair, and a dark green jacket.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as he stared at the man in the mirror. The air became heavy. He could feel his presence behind him, but he wouldn’t dare turn around.

“So, you’re the famous baby Winchester?” The man raised a brow.

His voice startled (Y/N). He turned around quickly and came face to face with the stranger.

“I’m a little surprised,” the man scratched his head. “I would have thought that you would look, you know, more like your brothers.”

(Y/N) could feel his heart pounding in his chest as if it was trying to escape. The fear bubbled inside of his gut. He had no weapons on him, yet the man didn’t seem like a threat. Nonetheless, there was a strange man in the motel bathroom with him. One who just appeared out of thin air. That was cause enough for alarm. His eyes glanced towards the closed bathroom door.

The man looked at the door and then back at (Y/N). “Oh, please don’t scream.”

“Sam! Dean!” (Y/N) shouted as he rushed to the door.

The man groaned and rubbed his temples. In the same instant that (Y/N) got the door open, the man vanished. (Y/N) stumbled out of the bathroom and into his eldest brother’s arms. Dean staggered, his back pressed against the wall. Sam stood next to them, a look of worry crossing his face.

“What happened? What happened?” Dean asked with alarm in his voice.

“There’s a guy! He-he,” (Y/N) turned to look behind him, a hand lifted to point in the direction of the bathroom, but stopped himself from talking once he saw that the man was gone.

Dean looked into the bathroom, brows furrowed. He and Sam stepped away from (Y/N) and toward the open door. Dean glanced inside, checking behind the door and in the shower. Dean threw his hands up.

“What guy?” He asked. “There’s no guy here, you almost gave me a heart attack.” Dean placed his hand over his chest as he walked out of the bathroom.

“There was a guy! He just appeared behind me!” (Y/N) said.

“Are you sure, (Y/N)?” Sam asked, doing a sweep of the bathroom from the doorway. “It doesn’t look like anyone besides you has been in here. There aren’t any windows, so no one could have gotten in. Are you sure you’re not just tired?”

“I saw him!”

“Sure you did, kid,” Dean walked up to him and clapped his shoulder. “Maybe you should lay off the horror movies for a while.”

“Now, that’s not very nice, Dean-O. No need to tease him like that,” the voice appeared in the center of the room.

All heads turned toward the sound of the voice. The man, who had been in the bathroom with (Y/N), stood in the center of the room. The playful smirk that had been on his face earlier was ever-present. (Y/N) grabbed Dean’s arm and moved closer to him. He pointed frantically at the stranger.

“That’s him! He was in the bathroom!”

Sam furrowed his brows. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel raised his arms in a presentation-type pose. “The one and only.”

“What the Hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, his tone more irritated than anything.

“Gabriel? As in, the archangel Gabriel?” (Y/N) asked his tense shoulders slouching as his body relaxed.

“Again: the one and only,” Gabriel smiled. “And, to answer your question, Dean, a little birdy told me that you were in town, so I figured I would stop by, and see my favorite Winchesters. Heard the youngest was here, and I thought it was about time we met. Although, I heard that you had a younger sister. Must’ve been a mistake.”

“Yeah, that’s a mistake alright.” Dean placed his hands on his hips. “Alright, you came in, you saw us, now can you please leave?”

“Woah, woah, what happened to hospitality? Why don’t you introduce me to your brother, here?” Gabriel sauntered over towards the three of them.

“No, now get out.”

“Not until an introduction is made.”

“Gabriel, we just got off of a hunt. We need some rest, now can you please leave?” Sam crossed his arms.

“Come on, guys, it’ll get him out of here so we can go to sleep,” (Y/N) mumbled before he turned to Gabriel. He held out a hand. “(Y/N) Winchester,”

“(Y/N),” he said the name as if testing it on his tongue. He reached out, grasped (Y/N)’s hand gently in his own, brought it up to his lips, and gave a small kiss on the back of it. “Gabriel. Nice to finally meet you.”

(Y/N) raised his brows, his cheeks heating up with blush. Dean rolled his eyes and swatted Gabriel’s hand away from (Y/N).

“Alright, alright, none of that,” Dean grumbled, sending a death glare toward Gabriel. “You know his name, now get out.”

Gabriel ignored him, his eyes stuck on (Y/N). “So, (Y/N), aside from being good-looking, what do you do in your free time?”

Dean and Sam both groaned and rolled their eyes, shaking their heads. (Y/N) felt his chest warm up the same as his face. He glanced down and fiddled with his fingers. Gabriel licked his lips, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk.

“Cat got your tongue?” He questioned.

“Well, I’m trying to think of something to say, but all I can think about is how cute you are.”

Gabriel looked at him, amused shock crossing his face. He straightened up for a minute, but, before he could say anything, Dean held his hands up.

“That’s enough,” Dean interjected, glancing at (Y/N) and then at Gabriel. “Leave.”

“But I’m having such a nice conversation,”

“Gabriel,” Sam spoke up, moving between (Y/N) and Gabriel, towering over him. His voice was low, intimidating. “Go.”

Gabriel raised his hands in mock surrender. He snapped his fingers and disappeared in front of the brothers. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave,” Gabriel’s voice came from behind the trio.

They all turned around. Gabriel stood right before (Y/N), eyes attached to him. He reached behind his back for a brief moment and pulled it back around. In his hand was a red rose with a short stem, free of prickles. He held it out.

“A parting gift, for you.”

(Y/N) hesitantly took him, a small smile on his face. “Thank you,”

Gabriel shrugged. “I know it’s not as beautiful as you, but it’s the best I can do for now.”

“Gabriel,” Dean warned.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Gabriel shook his head. “I hope to see you again soon, sweetheart,” He pointed at (Y/N).

“We’ll see.”

Gabriel winked before he snapped his fingers and disappeared from the room.

The room was quiet aside from the faint humming of the cheap air conditioner. (Y/N) studied the rose that Gabriel had given him. It appeared freshly in bloom, the red petals curled at the ends, the floral scent evident even from a distance. The stem was slightly wet from being cut. (Y/N) brought the flower to his nose and inhaled the intoxicating smell as he turned around to face his brothers. When he looked up, he immediately noticed the ‘if looks could kill’ gaze in their eyes.

“What?” (Y/N) asked and shrugged.

“Really?” Sam asked.

“What?”

“You know,” Dean began. “I’ve stopped butting in when you flirt with someone at a bar, or when you want to take someone back to a motel. I’ve learned to shut my mouth. But Gabriel?”

“Geez, you two are acting like I’ve slept with him.” (Y/N) scoffed, brushing past them as he walked toward his bed.

“Ooo, all I can think about is how cute you are,” Dean mocked.

“Will you shut up!?”

“He’s an archangel, (Y/N).” Sam nodded. “And you see no problem with flirting with him?”

“What? I can’t flirt with who I want now? It’s not like he’s a bad guy…technically.”

Dean sighed. “He’s off limits, (Y/N).”

“I’m an adult, Dean! I can flirt with whoever I want.”

“Not an angel! I mean…come on. Don’t you remember what he did to us? To Sammy and me?”

“Look, Dean, I get it, trust me, but it was just some comments, okay? Like I said, it’s not like I hooked up with him or anything. He just flirted with me so I flirted back. Took a page out of my Dean Winchester book of flirting.” (Y/N) walked over to the bed and sat down on the side of it. “You don’t have to worry about him, okay? Now, why don’t you guys just take your showers so we can go to bed and head out in the morning.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. He let out a huff as he turned to look at Sam. They stared at each other, but said nothing, as if they were talking to one another telepathically. Finally, Dean shook his head.

“Fine, but I get the next shower,” Dean mumbled as he sauntered over to the duffel bag that sat beside the queen-sized bed opposite (Y/N).

“Dean, I called the next shower,” Sam frowned.

“Too bad, can’t get next shower if I get there first,”

Sam glanced at the door to the bathroom, his duffel bag which sat at the table, and then Dean. Dean grabbed his night clothes from his bag and began to make his way over to the bathroom. Quickly, Sam rushed to the bathroom. Dean picked up his speed and the two of them wrestled in the doorway for a moment, mumbling to one another. Sam eventually pushed Dean out of the way and slammed the door shut, the cheap wood vibrating against the frame. Dean growled.

“How the Hell are you going to get out of there without your clothes, bitch?” He called through the door.

“I’ll figure it out, jerk,” Sam’s muffled voice replied.

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes before he sauntered over to his bed and slouched on the edge of it. “Can you believe him?” He gestured to the door dramatically.

(Y/N) snorted. “I think you’re both idiots,” he reached down and pulled the comforter away from his body, pushing his legs underneath. “Now hush while I get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight,” Dean grumbled.

“Goodnight, Dean,”

*~*

The rumble of the Impala’s engine was silenced over the deafening sound of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven”. Dean sang in an off-key tune as he drove, Sam tried to ignore him in the passenger’s seat, and (Y/N) blocked everything out, deep in thought as he leaned against the back passenger’s window. He was staring off into the distance, at the long line of trees and bushes they passed, but none of it registered. His mind was elsewhere.

He was thinking about Gabriel.

It had been a week since their interaction, and, for the life of him, he couldn’t keep the angel out of his mind. He never had someone who showed as much interest in him as Gabriel, and (Y/N) hadn’t lied. Gabriel was pretty cute. Was it the way the smirk seemed permanently etched on his lips? Perhaps the way his flirtatious remarks flowed out as smoothly as they did. Maybe it was in the look in his eye when he asked to see him again.

Regardless, there seemed to be nothing that could take Gabriel off of his mind.

“(Y/N)!” Dean’s boisterous voice echoed through the car.

(Y/N) jerked his head up to look at his brother in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t even noticed the music had been turned down, now softly playing in the background.

“What?”

“Man, I’ve called your name about ten times. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, just…thinking.”

“Yeah, I know that takes a lot out of you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” (Y/N) scrunched his nose as he reached over and lightly kicked the back of Dean’s seat.

“Hey! Be nice to Baby! She didn’t do anything to you.”

“Yeah, well, she was caught in the crossfire.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Sam’s pretty sure we have another ghost case.”

(Y/N) groaned. “Another one?”

“Yeah, just a simple salt and burn.” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Apparently this young couple, who just bought their house, has been reporting paranormal activity at their place. The husband’s mother even came to stay with them for a little while and, while she was there, she claimed that someone pushed her down the stairs when she was going to do laundry in the basement.”

“So? Her son tried to kill her to get the life insurance money. Doesn’t sound like a ghost hunt to me.” (Y/N) said.

“Husband was at work, and so was the wife. They even have alibis and security footage to prove it.”

“Okay, so then the mother’s old and cryptic and just fell down the stairs. Old people fall down the stairs every day, that’s why Life Alert was invented.”

“She’s forty-two.”

“Jesus, how old is her son?”

“Twenty-one. His wife is twenty. High-school sweethearts according to what the newspaper says.”

“Gross.” There was a pause. “I still don’t think it sounds like our thing. Maybe we should check something else out.”

“You’re not getting out of the salt and burn, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) groaned and leaned back in his seat, arms crossed lazily over his chest. “Fine! But I’m not doing the digging. I’ll be on guard duty.”

“No,” Dean said. “I’m going to be on guard duty this time.”

“Why?” He whined childishly.

“Because I helped dig the grave the last two times. We take shifts, remember?”

(Y/N) shook his head. He placed his elbow on the window sill and put his cheek into the palm of his right hand. His forehead leaned against the glass.

He thought back to Gabriel. The carefree attitude he seemed to have, even with the intimidating act that his brothers put on. He was an archangel, of course. Thinking about it, (Y/N) knew that Gabriel could do anything with them - he had proven that when he forced Sam and Dean into the TV universe - yet he did nothing of the sort, even when Dean had slapped his hand away from (Y/N). He seemed like a good person - angel? - and (Y/N) would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see him again. He knew that if anyone could lighten his mood from the sour situation they were driving to, it would be Gabriel.

An arm slowly snaked its way around (Y/N)’s shoulders. He jumped, eyes wide as he turned his head to the side. Sitting next to him, in the back of the Impala, was Gabriel, the same smirk on his face that was present the first night they met.

“Heard someone needed some company,” Gabriel said.

Dean visibly jerked, his hand turning the wheel of the car violently. The Impala lurched to the side, into the oncoming lane, before he corrected himself and straightened the car out. Everyone shifted in their seats with the movement. Dean slammed on the brakes, the rubber screeching against the road as the car halted. Dean and Sam’s heads whipped around, their eyes wide with surprise. Gabriel was leaning back against the leather seats, legs slightly spread, one arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders while the other rested at his side. (Y/N) could feel his heart pounding in his chest from a mixture of the sudden movement of the car and Gabriel’s touch.

“Woah, Dean-O. Gotta be careful. You’re lucky there’s no traffic,” Gabriel chuckled.

“What the Hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“A little birdy told me he was lonely. A little stressed,” Gabriel turned his head to look at (Y/N). He leaned closer to him. “Miss me already?”

Dean and Sam’s eyes shifted to their brother. (Y/N) felt the familiar heat appear in his cheeks and spread to his ears. Sam furrowed his brows.

“You prayed to him?” He asked.

“N-No! I didn’t!” (Y/N) defended.

“Wrong,” Gabriel hummed. “You know, every time you say my name in that pretty little head of yours, it comes straight to me,” Gabriel reached over and tapped on (Y/N)’s temple gently. “My prayer line has been buzzing nonstop since I last saw you.”

(Y/N)’s cheeks darkened even more. Gabriel had practically outed him to his brothers, completely contradicting what he had told them back at the motel. That they didn’t need to worry about him. That the flirty comments he made was a natural response. Now his brothers know that Gabriel had been on his mind. Now they knew that they had something to worry about.

Dean’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Eventually, he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, undoubtedly trying to clear his mind. When he opened his eyes, he pointed at his brother.

“You. We’ll talk later.” He turned to Gabriel. “You. Get out.”

“Aw, come on, Dean, let me ride for a little bit. Make your brother feel better,” Gabriel rubbed (Y/N)’s arm.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “No. Get out.” His voice was deep, dark.

Gabriel scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll go. Again.”

“Good,” Dean turned around eyes back to the empty road in front of him. His hands returned to the wheel, clenched tight enough to make his knuckles a ghostly white.

Gabriel glanced at (Y/N) with an apologetic expression before he reached into his pocket. He pulled out his clenched hand and held it towards him. As he opened his hand, (Y/N) could see a small candy heart in the middle of it, colored pink. In the center of the heart Be Mine was printed.

“Another parting gift. A sweetheart for a sweetheart.” Gabriel smirked.

(Y/N) smiled and took the heart. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sugar.”

“Leave Gabriel,” Dean bellowed.

“I’m going, I’m going.” He grumbled. He looked back at (Y/N) and winked. “I’ll see you later.”

He snapped and, once more, he was gone.

(Y/N) glanced down towards the candy. It was one of those cheap candies that you got from Walmart when you wanted to give something out to your classmates for Valentine’s Day. Despite the cheap appearance, the message on it was worth more than anything. It validated any emotions that he had for Gabriel. The mere idea that Gabriel felt the same way as he did made his heart soar, the butterflies swarming inside of his stomach. With a small smile, he closed his hand around the heart and placed his hand in his lap.

It was then that he noticed they hadn’t resumed their drive yet. He looked in the front seat to see both of his brothers staring at them, unamused expressions on their faces. The smile (Y/N) had turned into an awkward grin, his shoulders tensed. Sam and Dean looked at one another and conversed in that telepathic communication that they always do before they wordlessly turned back to the road. Dean glanced one more time in the rear-view mirror, shook his head, and then started down the road again.

(Y/N)’s shoulders slumped and he turned to the window. He placed his elbow on the window sill and his cheek in the palm of his hand.

It was going to be a long night.

*~*

I fucking hate ghosts.

His muscles hurt worse than last time. If he didn’t know any better, he would say his arms felt as if they were going to fall off. His calves ached a bit, but not nearly as bad as his biceps.

The hunt took longer than expected - most of the graves in the cemetery they had gone to were unmarked, souls long since forgotten by the people who had buried them. The records in the cemetery’s office weren’t much help, either. The three of them spent two hours trying to find the grave that belonged to the ghost, two more hours digging up the plot with major pushback from the spirit, and an extra hour attempting to leave the cemetery without getting caught - apparently, grave robbers were a common occurrence in that small Maryland town.

Even the morning after, (Y/N)’s entire body ached and was stiff. It felt like every part of him had been put through a meat grinder. When he moved, his muscles tensed and burned as if he were on the surface of a thousand suns. His brothers felt bad for him, in a way. They could see how hurt he was and decided to let him rest while they went out to get some breakfast, some greasy diner food that all of them, even Sam, desperately needed.

As (Y/N) lay in his bed, still clad in his sleepwear from the night before, to ignore the aches and pain, his mind shifted to a familiar thought; Gabriel.

The same thoughts that had been invading his mind for the past two weeks entered his head seamlessly. The thoughts of Gabriel’s words, his flirtatious tone, the way his hair was swept back, the way the corner of his lips curled into a smirk whenever he would look at him, and the glimmer that danced in his irises. While Gabriel took up most of his mind, another thing that (Y/N) couldn’t get out of his mind was Sam and Dean. He thought about their disapproving gazes, the irritation in their tone as they talked to or about Gabriel, and the shake of their heads when Gabriel finally vanished.

His brothers weren’t shy when it came to their objections. When they had gotten into town for the hunt, Sam and Dean made sure to speak out about the situation. (Y/N) felt as if he was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Dean was the one that was mostly vocal with Sam taking a back seat and butting in now and then. While (Y/N) could appreciate that his brothers were looking out for him, he stood strong on the fact that he was an adult. He could make his own decisions. Gabriel was an angel. It wasn’t as if he was flirting with a demon. He knew his brothers would have a conniption if it was Crowley instead of Gabriel. Still, (Y/N) was their little brother. He had a feeling that they were going to be protective no matter who he showed interest in.

That wouldn’t stop him from trying to pursue Gabriel, though.

In the two instances they met, Sam and Dean had been in the room with them when they talked, leaving little to no time for them to have an actual conversation or get to know one another. Granted, Gabriel must know more about him than anything, considering the lack of privacy he had in his head. That only gave him more of an incentive to learn everything he could about the archangel.

He had to talk to Gabriel alone.

(Y/N) had never prayed before. He always left his brothers to the praying when they needed Castiel involved. It was a new experience, and he didn’t even know how to start.

Slowly, (Y/N) adjusted himself on the bed so that his back was pressed against the wooden headboard. He placed his hands in his lap, slightly folded.

“Um…Gabriel…” he trailed as he tried to think of how he could continue. “Uh…it’s me. (Y/N). I think we need to talk.”

“You know, the last time someone said that to me, it didn’t end well,” Gabriel’s voice came from in front of him, near the end of the bed.

(Y/N) let out an audible gasp, startled. His throbbing muscles tensed for a moment before they relaxed, a shot of pain coursing through his body.

“Jesus, we need to put a bell on you angels,” (Y/N) mumbled.

“I’ve been thinking about that. Do you think it’ll look good on me?” Gabriel pursed his lips and dramatically posed.

(Y/N) snorted and shook his head as he chuckled. Gabriel joined him and walked over to the bed, sitting down. The bed dipped.

“I can see your bodyguards aren’t here.”

“Yeah, they went out to get some breakfast a bit ago.”

“Well, that’s good. Now I can talk to you without getting kicked out. What did you want to talk about anyway?”

“Well-”

“My handsome good looks?” Gabriel smirked.

“Uh-”

“How about my smooth talking?”

“Gabriel-”

“What about the way you get butterflies in your stomach when you’re near me?” Gabriel placed a hand on the bed and leaned closer to him.

(Y/N) could feel his cheeks heat up once again. The butterflies Gabriel referenced swarmed. He looked away for a moment before his eyes shifted down towards his hands in his lap.

“Gabriel.”

“Yes?”

“Do you like me?” He moved his eyes to him.

Gabriel seemed surprised by the question at first, straightening himself up.

“I mean…” (Y/N) paused, attempting to collect his thoughts. “You flirted with me back at the other motel, you had your arm wrapped around me in the car, you’ve been listening to my thoughts, er, prayers, I guess. Is this just…a flirty little thing that you like to do or…are you really interested in me?”

“Of course I am,” Gabriel shrugged. “I mean, you don’t see me flirting with your brothers, do you?”

“No.”

“Casual flirting isn’t normally my thing. When I flirt with someone, I really, really like them, and I really, really like you.” His voice was deep and smooth like velvet.

(Y/N) smiled, his eyes never leaving Gabriel’s face, despite the bashful need to do so. “Well, I hope it helps that I really, really like you, too.”

“Oh, trust me, I can tell,”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Gabriel chuckled as he reached over, his hand gently caressing his cheek. Their lips connected without another comment. (Y/N) closed his eyes and, almost immediately, melted into the kiss. He could feel a warm, tingling sensation course through his body, touching down his arms, torso, and legs. Their lips moved in sync. (Y/N) raised his hands, his fingers entangled in Gabriel’s silky hair.

(Y/N) pulled away before he wanted to, the need for air overwhelming. He stared deep into Gabriel’s whiskey eyes. It didn’t take long before that smirk reappeared. (Y/N)’s thumb gently brushed over Gabriel’s scruff.

“Your kiss is even sweeter than you are,” (Y/N) spoke in a soft tone.

“Oh, please, nothing is sweeter than me,”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Kiss me again.”

“With pleasure.”

Gabriel leaned in and kissed him once more. He moved onto the bed so that his legs were on either side of (Y/N)’s body and he hovered over him. (Y/N) took the time to wrap his arms around Gabriel’s neck gently. They tilted their heads to the side, deepening the kiss.

(Y/N) had his fair share of kisses before, a handful of them drunken mishaps at various bars across the country, but never like the one he had with Gabriel. There was something special about it. Something that made him melt into the bed. That attracted him further to Gabriel. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he wasn’t going to fight it.

Although, someone might.

The door to the motel room opened. The stench of cheap breakfast food wafted into the small space as Sam and Dean entered. They froze for a moment, eyes wide in shock at what they had walked in on. It didn’t take long for them to break the trance.

“Hey!” Dean shouted as he rushed over to the two of them.

Just as they broke the kiss, Dean grabbed the back of Gabriel’s shirt, pulled him off of the bed, and pinned him against the wall. The cheap lights flickered at the force of the impact.

“Dean!” (Y/N) exclaimed as he quickly stood from the bed.

Before he could pull his brother away, Sam grabbed him by the arm, pulled him close, and wrapped his arms around him protectively.

“What did I tell you about leaving my brother alone, huh?” Dean slammed Gabriel against the wall again, though he seemed completely unphased by it.

“Now, Dean, if you haven’t noticed, your brother is more than capable of making his own choices.” Gabriel’s voice was calm, almost playful.

“Yeah, with humans. Not with you.”

“Now what have I ever done to you, Dean?”

“What have you done?” Dean let out a dry laugh. “What have you done?”

“Dean! Stop! You’re gonna get the fucking cops called on us!” (Y/N) hissed between clenched teeth.

“And you!” Dean let go of Gabriel’s shirt and turned around to face (Y/N). “What happened to ‘oh, you don’t have to worry about anything, Dean, it was just for fun’,” he mocked (Y/N)’s voice harshly. “And then Sam and I come in and see you sucking face with an archangel!?”

“First of all,” (Y/N) wiggled his arms out from Sam’s grasp. “Get off me,” he mumbled and pushed firmly on Sam’s chest. Sam’s feet were firmly planted, but he removed his arms from around his brother. (Y/N) backed up a couple of steps and brushed his shirt off. “I told you, Dean, I’m an adult and I can make your own decisions! And who the Hell says ‘sucking face’ anymore, anyway? What is this? 1980?”

“The point is, you told us you weren’t going to do anything and here you are…doing something!” Dean pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Dean’s right, (Y/N),” Sam shook his head. “You know, we support you in everything that you do, but Gabriel?”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Gabriel appeared behind (Y/N).

“Good, I hope you do,” Dean said.

(Y/N) groaned. “You guys are acting like you walked in on me having sex with him or something! It was a kiss!”

“His tongue was in your mouth, (Y/N),” Dean spoke with a hint of disgust.

“Shut the fuck up, Dean!”

“Alright, alright, hey,” Sam held up his hands. “Look. All we want to do is look out for you, okay? It’s our job to protect you.”

“And I want you guys to keep protecting me,” (Y/N)’s shoulders slouched. “I’m not saying I don’t want you to. I like Gabriel, okay? I really do. And it’s not just some hook-up in-a-bar kind of feeling. It’s feelings-feelings. You know? The things we never talk about? I can’t explain it, but I feel…a connection to him. Like Dean feels with Castiel.”

“Woah, woah, hold on. I don’t feel that way with Cas.”

“Dean, we all know you do,” Gabriel spoke up, shaking his head.

Dean clenched his jaw. “I don’t wanna hear another word out of you.”

“Look,” Gabriel began. “I’d never do anything to hurt your brother. I know I haven’t been the, well, nicest with you two. But I like (Y/N),” Gabriel shrugged. “I’d like to get to know him more, and I know that he would like to do the same.”

Sam and Dean stared at Gabriel, their eyes piercing. They never blinked, as if studying him. Sam leaned over to Dean.

“Dean, I think he’s telling the truth,” Sam spoke in a low voice.

Dean looked at Sam with furrowed brows. “Really?” His tone was defensive. “How do you know he’s not lying?”

“Dean, (Y/N) is right about the fact that he’s an adult, okay? Maybe we should just…take a backseat on this?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I hate this just as much as you do, Dean, but you know that even if we disagree with is, (Y/N) is just going to find a way to see him anyway.”

“Not if we handcuff him to one of us,” Dean mumbled.

“I’m right here,” (Y/N) crossed his arms.

“The point is,” Sam said. “If Gabriel is serious, what better person besides us to protect him than an archangel? I mean, we have Cas, yes, but Cas isn’t an archangel.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but was having a hard time coming up with an argument to shoot back at his brother’s statement. Instead, he sighed as he reached a hand up and ran it down his face. He could feel a headache coming on. Silence flooded the room as the four of them stood there.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “I won’t say anything about Gabriel coming around. But I don’t wanna walk in on anymore face sucking.”

“No face sucking or any other kind of sucking while sharing a room, got it.” (Y/N) smiled.

Dean shot him a look of disgust before he turned to Gabriel. “And you. If you hurt him-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Fire and brimstone and pitchforks and torches. You’ll have the whole Winchester Army after me,” Gabriel waved his hands around dramatically. “I get it. You have my word that I will never hurt your brother.”

“Alright, now get out of here before I change my mind.”

“I won’t fight you on that,” Gabriel turned to (Y/N). He reached down, grabbed his hand, and placed a small kiss on his knuckles. “I’ll see you later, sugarplum.”

(Y/N) snorted. “See you later, Casanova.”

Gabriel winked before he snapped his fingers and vanished.

With a smile still on his face, (Y/N) turned to his brothers. “Thank you guys, really.”

“Well, we trust you, (Y/N),” Sam said. “We don’t trust him, but we trust you. And we trust that, if anything were to happen, you would come to us if you need help.”

“Of course I will. You’re my brothers. I make a mess, you guys clean it up.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure you’ll be the reason why I get gray hairs early in life,” Dean mumbled as he sauntered over to the small table near the motel door, opening the bag of breakfast food which was probably cold by then.

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as he walked over to him. “Oh, you mean, these gray hairs?” He reached up and brushed the back of his brother’s hairline, finger gliding through the sandy blonde hair.

Dean reached back quickly and cupped the back of his head. “What!?” He exclaimed.

Sam snorted and (Y/N) let out a boisterous laugh. Dean’s jaw clenched as he lowered his hand to his side.

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

“I thought so, old man.”

“You better watch it, bitch,”

“Aw, I love you, too, Dean,” (Y/N) wrapped a single arm loosely around Dean’s middle. He then motioned Sam over. When Sam was close enough, (Y/N) wrapped his other arm around him. “And I love you, Sammy.”

“Love you, too, (Y/N),” Sam smiled and returned the hug.

Dean looked down at his brother and mumbled something under his breath before he patted him on the back. “Yeah, yeah, love you too, kid.”

“I couldn’t ask for better brothers than you.”

…

“Alright, enough of the chick-flick moments. Let’s eat.”

76 notes · View notes

bi-bard · 11 months

Text

Jonathan Larson Songs That Describe a Relationship with Peter Parker - Peter Parker Imagine [The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)]

Title: Jonathan Larson Songs That Describe a Relationship with Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader

Word Count: 2,930 words

Warning(s): Peter's commitment issues/past trauma, mention of potential break-up

Summary: Three songs by Jonathan Larson that would describe a relationship with Peter Parker [The Amazing Spider-Man (aka Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker)]

Author's Note: I am so fucking funny.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

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

Johnny Can't Decide

Johnny has no guide Johnny wants to hide Can he make his mark, if he gives up his spark? Johnny can't decide

I had grown used to just finding Peter in my apartment.

At some point, I just started to expect it more than anything. Whether he used the key that I gave him or the window into my bedroom, it was normal for him to be there.

What wasn't normal was to find him looking through my computer.

"Peter," I said, furrowing my eyebrows. "What are you doing?"

"What's this," he asked, pointing at the screen.

I walked over but stopped when I could fully focus on the screen. My heart dropped as guilt washed over me.

"(Y/n)-"

"They're apartment listings," I answered.

"These aren't in New York," he pointed out. "You want to leave the city completely?"

"I... I've been looking at jobs," I shrugged. "I started looking at places to move if I get the offer."

"Why," he asked. "I thought you liked it here."

"I did," I replied. "For a long time. But these last few months... they've been pushing me to leave."

He turned in my chair fully. "When were you going to tell me?"

"I was hoping to tell you once I got an offer, but... I don't know if I would've."

"What?"

"I know that you wouldn't want to leave."

He scoffed. "You couldn't know that-"

"Peter, you love this city. You love being Spider-Man. I would never ask you to leave it. Spider-Man has been in your life a lot longer than I have."

"You didn't even ask me."

"So, you would leave? If I asked?"

Peter paused.

I saw the weight of the choice actually setting in.

He would be leaving the city that he loved. He would either have to give up being Spider-Man and face being accused of not caring about the city, start protecting a different city and still be faced with the same accusation, or find some way to kill Spider-Man without getting himself killed.

"I want to be with you, Peter. I love you," I said. "But I won't let this be some reason you resent me later. I won't do that."

"You're leaving," he asked. "No matter what?"

"I think so," I replied.

I never told him about the fear that sat in my stomach every night when he wasn't there.

Whether or not he was on the news for his actions, I knew that he was out there. He was dealing with threats that the city wasn't aware of most of the time. I would sit up and wait for him. When I'd hear the familiar thump on the fire escape outside or- on rare occasions- hear the door open, I'd lay down, slow my breathing, and pretend that I had fallen asleep hours ago.

Whether or not he ever believed my little act was a mystery.

And I wasn't just leaving because of that. It just made me less hesitant.

"I'll leave the choice to you," I explained. "You can think about it. Whatever you want is fine. But I am leaving. Your choice is just whether or not you're going with me."

He nodded. "Okay."

I walked forward and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," he muttered. "Do you... Do you want me to leave?"

"Up to you," I shrugged. "I won't be hurt if you don't want to stay here tonight."

"No, no, I want to," he said. "I want to be here."

"Okay," I smiled at him.

I know that he didn't fall asleep that night. Mostly because I didn't either.

I think we both pretended to in the hopes of comforting each other. As some silent sign that everything was okay. But it wasn't. We both knew that there was this impending end on the horizon. We knew that everything between us had shifted and was going to continue to shift.

Realistically, I couldn't imagine Peter choosing me over his work here. I knew that I was fighting a losing battle.

But I don't know if that made it easier or harder to cope with.

Another Day

The heart may freeze Or it can burn The pain will ease If I can learn There is no future There is no past I live this moment as my last

I never thought about how bad I could be at reading signals.

I hated making assumptions about people's feelings, but there were a few moments when I was certain that I was right.

Like now.

Peter and I had been friends for a while. We had grown close. I developed feelings for him far faster than I wanted to admit. It just felt so easy with him. He was funny and smart and sweet. He felt too perfect to exist, but I couldn't find the drive to search for some flaw in the image.

I should've. Maybe that would have helped me in the long run.

He had come over to my place after work one day. We had both been talking about this movie that we wanted to see and I had found it on DVD. It almost felt like fate pushing us into the same place.

I was coming back from grabbing the pizza that had been delivered to find that Peter had disappeared. I furrowed my eyebrows set the pizza down and looked around.

I found him standing in my small hallway, looking at the pictures that I had on my wall.

"Peter?" I said.

He looked over at me. "Sorry."

"Don't be," I shook my head as I walked over. "If I didn't want them to be looked at every once and a while, then I would've hidden them."

He chuckled. "They're nice... the pictures."

"Thanks," I grinned. "My mom sent me a whole bunch when I first moved out. Something about keeping me close to home in a way."

"She sounds nice."

She would have to be to listen to me talk about you as much as I do, I thought. "She is."

Peter just nodded.

"She actually had them already printed out," I chuckled. "Something about knowing that I wouldn't stick around."

"Always running?"

"No, no, just running here," I corrected. "I wanted to be in this city for as long as I can remember. I always had some semblance of what I wanted for my life. I just sometimes have trouble acting on what I want."

"I see," he replied, looking at me. "And what exactly is it that you want now?"

I paused for a moment. I had a thousand thoughts jumping around my mind, but all of them trailed back to him. It felt silly. Ridiculous.

But then, I looked back at him.

I couldn't explain it, but there was something. Something just behind his eyes that made me feel like my thousand thoughts weren't as ridiculous as I thought they were.

I slowly stepped closer to him. I hesitantly leaned closer to him, waiting for some sign to fill the gap or pull away and act like it never happened. I couldn't find either. I stopped, maintaining just a few inches between us.

"We shouldn't," Peter muttered. He didn't pull away. He just let the words hang in the small space between us.

"Why," I asked, also not moving. I had been craving this moment for too long for that.

He paused as if trying to make up some excuse that satisfied him as much as it did me. "Work."

"Work?" I chuckled a bit at the answer.

"People will talk," he explained. "And if we don't work out, it could get so much worse."

"I'm okay with that risk," I shrugged. He didn't respond. He didn't pull back or talk or anything. "Life is simply too short to spend all of our time worried about every single thing that could possibly go wrong."

I leaned forward, nose brushing his.

"I want this... with you. And if you want it too, then I see no reason for us to hide from it."

I saw something. In his eyes. There was something that he wanted to say. Something sitting on the very edge of his tongue that he couldn't force out. Something that would make the moment too scary or too real.

I just watched his eyes jump from my eyes to my lips.

"Peter," I muttered.

He hummed back.

I leaned in and closed the remaining distance. I wrapped my arms around him as he kissed me back.

It was a few moments. A matter of seconds before he pulled away again.

I furrowed my eyebrows are he stumbled back from me. "Peter?"

"I... I need to go. I need to leave. I'm sorry."

"What," I asked. "I thought... I thought that we were..."

"I'll see you at work tomorrow," he muttered.

"Can we please just talk about this, Peter-"

"No!" he snapped. "There's... There's nothing to talk about. I'm leaving."

"Peter, wait-"

"Bye."

The door slammed behind him as he walked out. I felt my heart drop when it did. I felt like I should have heard it based on how fast it fell.

I wanted to follow him but I just couldn't. I just had to stand there with this sudden realization that everything that I thought was wrong. Every feeling that I was convinced had been shared was wrong.

It was a scary thing to think about.

I took one huge risk and it backfired greatly.

And now, I had no way to fix what I had broken.

As far as I was concerned, I had just lost Peter forever.

Swimming

Out, don't think Out, out, let it out Keep the shoulder down, down Easy, not too hard Find the movement's origin

I hadn't always been used to seeing Peter sitting on my fire escape in his full Spider-Man gear.

In fact, the first night that it happened, I almost shit myself.

I hadn't known about Peter's true identity. It had been a matter of days since he had rejected me outside my door and run away. I didn't know why at the time. I was still hurt and just trying to accept it. I couldn't force him to change his mind or process his grief faster than he was.

I just had to accept that I had no control over the situation. The only thing that I had control over was whether or not I would wait for him.

I had decided not to. I knew how my mind worked. If I stayed in contact with him, then I would just be reminded of the hurt every day. I would never be able to move on.

So, I ignored him.

If he noticed or cared, then he did a very good job controlling himself. He never confronted me. I took that as a sign.

I had just gotten back from work, entirely exhausted both physically and emotionally. I threw some stuff onto the table before going to walk back to my room and get ready to shower.

I switched on my light and looked out the window, only to find something looking back at me.

It took me a moment to recognize it, but anyone who had been watching would know the Spider-Man mask when they saw it.

The figure picked up its hand and waved at me. Then, it motioned for me to open the window.

I slowly reached over and grabbed the letter opener that my dad had insisted I own. I had no proof that this was the real Spider-Man and not some psycho in a fake suit. I would've been convinced by the mere presence on my fire escape, but if it was someone from my building, they could probably find a way there.

To put it simply, there were too many risks.

I walked over to the window and paused when I got there.

The figure motioned for me to open the window.

I paused for a moment before leaning forward and letting out a puff of air so the window fogged up a bit. I did my best to write 'Why?' backward.

The figure seemed to laugh and shake its head at me. I thumped the window as a way to tell it off.

After holding its hands up for a moment, it looked around and moved to pull its mask off.

I was met with Peter's face. My eyes went wide as I scrambled to push the window open.

"Lead with that," I scolded him.

"Sorry," he replied. "Can I come in?"

I moved so he could climb inside. I pulled the window shut again and locked it. It was strange to turn around and see Spider-Man standing in the middle of my room. Weirder when it felt like it was just Peter's head on Spider-Man's body.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Just don't sneak onto my fire escape-"

"It's not about the fire escape," he cut me off. "I meant about everything. Pushing you away and lying to you. You deserved answers and I was too much of a coward to actually offer those to you."

I took a moment to collect my thoughts. "This is your explanation for rejecting me... being Spider-Man?"

"Well, there's a bit more to it than that."

"How am I supposed to believe the initial information?"

Peter sighed before sticking out his arm. I jumped as something shot right by my head and stuck to the wall behind me.

I looked at it for a moment before reaching out to touch it. I cringed a bit at the texture and shoot my hand back. "Gross."

"It's not meant to be pleasant," he replied, dropping his arm.

"Okay... what's the rest of your reason?"

"Gwen," he explained. "We were together for a while. She knew about... this. She was trying to help and then... I couldn't save her. I tried. I did. But she fell and I didn't catch her in time and she... she died in my arms."

I felt sick to my stomach. I felt like I was forcing him to tell me all of this. It was wrong of me to demand information that he didn't seem ready to tell me. I was going to stop him, but he didn't let me get a word in.

"I pulled away from everything for a while," he continued. "I... I stopped pulling my punches. I just... It felt like I just went dark. For a long time. And then... I met you. It felt like I was returning to normal.

"When we kissed... I just... I thought of every single way that I could get you hurt."

I took a deep breath. "Then why come back here? Why tell me this?"

"You were avoiding me and I was scared and- and confused and... all I wanted was for us to be okay but I didn't know how to fix it. I- I only knew that it was my fault. And then, I was out tonight, working, and I couldn't think of anything but you. You and how I messed things up and how badly I needed to talk to you. I was just constantly reminded of you."

I didn't have a response. There wasn't one that would explain my thoughts or say something that I hadn't already said or feel like I wasn't being disrespectful about everything that he had just told me.

Peter stepped forward, slowly reaching out to cup the sides of my face. His thumb traced my cheek as his eyes jumped around my face.

"I... I want you. I want to be with you," he muttered. "I just knew that I couldn't admit that without being completely honest with you about everything."

I didn't feel physically able to respond until I felt his hands pulling away. I frantically reached up to hold them in place. I stepped even closer to him.

"Kiss me," I murmured. He didn't react for a moment. "I... I'm willing to deal with all of this... with anything that comes with this. I just need to know that-"

I was cut off by Peter leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine. I slowly kissed him back, my hands moving to his sides. I felt a smile creeping onto my lips as the kiss continued.

Peter pulled back first.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For everything."

"I forgive you," I mumbled. "I promise."

He slowly smiled back at me.

I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, hearing a heavy sigh escape him as his shoulders finally dropped and his muscles relaxed. I leaned back again, feeling his hands move down to my sides.

There was a small pause.

"Can I start with the dumb questions now," I asked quietly.

"Sure," he chuckled, nodding at me.

"The webs... where... where are they coming from?"

He tilted his head back for a moment as he laughed. "That's what you want to know?"

I nodded.

"You could ask any question that you want... and you ask that?"

"It's a very good question."

He nodded. "You're right."

"Are you gonna answer it?"

"In a minute..."

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. Another chuckle escaped him before he leaned forward and kissed me again. Once I realized why he was avoiding my question, my eyes fluttered shut.

And with each passing second, I could see myself accepting every ounce of danger that could possibly come after this moment.

All of it was worth it as long as I got to be with him.

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

Author's Note: Not gonna lie, "Swimming" feels like it's the story that follows what was actually inspired by the song.

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#fanfiction #imagine #x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #the amazing spider man x reader #the amazing spider man imagine #the amazing spider man fanfiction #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader

86 notes · View notes

yourlocalghoulette · 5 months

Text

Hearts and Ribbons Part One

Main Masterlist|Series Masterlist

Warnings: Eventual smut so MDNI, Relationship building, Joel being a flirt, mentions of abuse, swearing, brief horny thoughts, lmk if I forgot anything:)

A/N: here’s the first part for yall! This is literally the first long fic I’ve ever written so it’s kinda scaring me to share it to yall🥲 pleaseee send me any tips or helpful critizism!! Also, I’m going to focus more on the actual relationship of Joel x reader more than the actual getting to the relationship lmao, so this is gonna move pretty fast. Hope you enjoy!

W/C: 3.3k

"Dad, did you know that ballerinas can go through up to three pairs of pointe shoes a week?"

Sarah excitedly reads facts from a book that she borrowed from the library about ballet to Joel, who just picked her up from school. Joel hangs his arm out of the window, the cool breeze flowing into the car relieving against the hot Texas air.

"That so?" He hums, turning on the radio. Long, Long Time by Linda Ronstadt crackles through his old truck radio. "Sounds expensive." Sarah giggles infectiously, turning the pages of the book. "Ooh, listen to this, Dad," she exclaims, leaning back in her seat and resting her feet on the front passenger seat. "Apparently women weren't allowed to dance ballet until 1681! That's crazy." "Feet off the seat," Joel scolds gently. "Wow. That is crazy. Wonder why they didn't let 'em." Sarah rolls her eyes jokingly and removes her feet from the seat in front of her. "Dad...would I be able to take dance lessons?" She asks carefully, a small smirk growing on her face. "Damn ballet movies," he mutters under his breath. "Well....I'd have to probably work some extra shifts, but..." Joel hesitates. Anything to make his baby girl happy, right?

That's how Joel found himself perched on his office chair in front of his computer, scrolling through various dance studios. Being in the busy place of Austin Texas, he wasn't surprised that there were a lot of dance studios around him. He finally found a ballet studio that looked welcoming, immediately letting out a sigh of relief as he tapped the link. The home page of the website catches his eye, with phrases like 'We welcome all levels and ages of dancers" and "Friendly family atmosphere" snagging his interest. He takes out his phone, dialing the number from the website.

You're just finishing your choreography for the intermediates, a lyrical dance to the song 'Fear of Water' by Noah Kahan. Your Apple watch buzzes against your wrist as you solidly land a double pirouette, notifying you that a call is coming in. You quickly grab your phone, clicking the green 'Accept' button.

"Hearts and Ribbons Dance Studio, how can I help you?" You say sweetly into the phone, slightly out of breath from dancing. "Uh..Hi? I wanted to enroll my daughter in a ballet class," the voice says from the other end. You immediately know this man is hot just from hearing his voice. It's deep and slightly gravelly, his Texan accent apparent through the phone. You, however, have just moved to Texas a year ago, so you didn't quite have an accent yet.

"Totally! How old is she and what's her dancing level?" You inquire, nestling your phone in between your cheek and shoulder you can pull out your notebook and pen.

Joel loves how sweet and kind your voice sounds, and he knows he's definitely going to have Sarah go to this studio. Because he thinks it's a good fit, no other reason of course. "She's twelve years old, and she ain't never touched a dance floor in her life," he responds, kicking back easily in his chair. "I hope that's alright?" "That's totally fine. I believe no one is ever too old to start dancing," you say into the phone, and Joel can tell how passionate you are about your work. "OK, so I actually have a class open every Thursday afternoon for beginners, ages 12 through 14. Does that interest you?" You continue, flipping through your calendar. "That sounds perfect, actually," he responds. "Great!" You exclaim into the phone, a little too excited to be able to meet this handsome-sounding man in person. "Oh, before I forget, what is your and your daughter's name?" "I'm Joel, and my daughter's name is Sarah." "Sarah and Joel, huh? Both great names," you say sweetly, taking account of their names in your notebook as you tell him your name. "Uh..thanks, darlin'," he says, wondering why he's so flustered at what is normally a common compliment. "Your name is beautiful too." You feel heat creeping slowly up to your cheeks. "Thanks," you murmur, then quickly gain your composure. “I-I’ll see you guys tomorrow at four, then?” Joel runs his hand through his graying hair. “Sounds great. Can’t wait to meet you.”

You grin widely as you hang up. Staring into the wall-length mirror, you sigh. “What the fuck are you thinking, girl? He has a kid. He’s probably married. You haven’t even met him yet,” you scold yourself.

Tomorrow finally comes, and you are trying to round up the littles class so they can go home. To your surprise, a man and his daughter walk in. You can already tell that it’s Joel and Sarah. Joel’s face definitely lives up to your fantasies, dark chocolatey brown eyes and a patchy beard sprinkled with streaks of gray. He’s tall, and you can tell by the way that his arms are squeezed by the flannel he’s wearing that he is a strong man. The girl, whom you assume is Sarah, is really pretty, with dark, short, tight curly hair. She's wearing a black leotard and pink tights, with a white wrap skirt.

They watch as you struggle with the crazy kindergartners, your face filled with annoyance as a little girl named Ada breaks down into tears. “Hey, baby, it’s alright, don’t cry,” you say softly, and Joel admires how patient you are as you ask her what’s wrong, what happened, blah, blah, blah, the same script you use with every kid.

“Need a hand?” You jump slightly as Joel touches your shoulder lightly, standing right behind you. “I-uh- no, I think I got it, but thanks,” you smile up at him, slightly flustered as Joel nods and withdraws his hand. You finally get the kids with their parents and out the door, letting out a deep sigh before you turn to face Joel and Sarah. “I take it you’re Joel and Sarah?” You shake hands with Joel, savoring his strong grip around your hand. “I appreciate you coming early,” you continue. “It’s so fucking annoying when people come late and I’m not able to show them around.” You immediately cover your mouth with your hand. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I’m still working on this whole ‘professional’ thing.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I have the same problem,” Joel assures you.

You blush, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And you must be Miss Sarah?” You ask, turning to face Sarah with a wide smile. She nods eagerly. “That’s me,” she grins. “I’m so excited to dance.”

“Well, great, we love some enthusiasm here,” you say, flashing a smile at Joel. He immediately feels his face heat up. He can’t deny the fact that you are beautiful, he would even go so far to say you’re stunning. He admires the way that your eyes light up when you talk to Sarah, clearly passionate about your job. “Ok, let’s get in a short tour before the rest of the girls get here,” you glance at your watch. “We got about ten minutes.”

Sarah nods eagerly. “Ok, I’m so excited!” She exclaims again.

You show them around the studio, pointing out the main dance floor (obviously), the barre, the bathrooms….there really isn’t much to a dance studio. “And there ya go!” You grin, glancing at your watch again as some girls start to walk into the studio. “Perfect timing.” Sarah bounces up and down excitedly and runs to the other girls, leaving you alone with Joel.

“Hey, I really appreciate this, darlin',” he says softly, smiling at you. “Y'know, for taking her in a class on such a short notice.” God, his eyes alone could make you melt. You instinctively glance at his left hand. No ring.

“It’s my pleasure,” you smile back at him. “I love making kids happy. It’s my passion.”

Joel nods in understanding. “Me too, in a sense,” he nods towards Sarah. “So, are you new to Austin? I swear I would remember a face that pretty if I ever saw it.” Your cheeks immediately flush bright pink. “Yeah, I just moved here about a year ago from Michigan. Looking for a fresh start, y’know?” You lean against the wall, admiring how easy he is to talk to. He nods. “Why’d you come to Texas?” He asks, hoping he’s not prodding too much. “Well, I partially became here because it’s warm, and my boyfriend lives here. Well, my ex, now.”

His eyes brighten slightly as he hears that you’re single. “Well, welcome to Texas. I guess I’ll see you in an hour?” He reaches out his hand to shake yours. You shake his hand, your fingers lingering together for a second before you pull away. “Yep. I guess I should probably start teaching the class,” you laugh, a sweet sound to Joel’s ears.

As soon as Sarah climbs into Joel’s car after the class is over, giddy and happy from the excitement of her first dance class, she punches Joel jokingly on the shoulder. “So, when are you gonna ask her out?” She smirks. Heat immediately rushes to his cheeks, but he keeps his eyes on the road, hoping Sarah won't see it. “Who? I-uh-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sarah rolls her eyes. “You’re an awful liar, dad. I saw you talking to my dance teacher, all pink and giggly around her.” Joel lets out a defeated sigh. “OK, maybe I think your dance teacher is pretty, but that doesn’t mean anything, okay? Do not tell Uncle Tommy,” he says firmly. Sarah giggles. “I knew it! A few hours later, you're still at the studio, working through a tough turn combo that you came up with. Three a la secondes, three pencil turns, two fouettes, three pirouettes....you're thrown out of your turn when your phone rings, the monotonous tone breaking your concentration. You pick up your phone, eyes widening when you recognize Joel's number. You quickly press accept. "Hey, J- I mean, hello, Hearts and Ribbons dance studio, how can I help you?" You gain your composure quickly, trying to hide that you knew exactly who was calling you. "Hey, sweetheart, this is Joel. The-uh- the new dancer's dad?" You almost laugh at the fact that Joel thought that you would forget him. "I remember you, Joel," you giggle sweetly into the phone. "I'm honored," he responds with mock exaggeration. "Listen, I just wanted to thank you again for today. Sarah is abso-fucking-lutely overjoyed." You laugh. "That's amazing. I'm so glad she's liking it. So I'm guessing she's going to keep taking classes here?" You ask hopefully, secretly crossing your fingers. You'd take any excuse to be with this Joel Miller that you could get. "Oh, absolutely." You can tell Joel hesitates through the phone. "Listen, I-uh-I was just wondering if you'd like to go out for coffee sometime? Just to...you know....talk about Sarah's progress and shit," he mutters nervously into the phone, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes!" You almost yell into the phone, then take a deep breath to contain yourself. "I-I mean, yeah, of course, Joel. That sounds lovely." Joel laughs into the phone, making the butterflies in your stomach take flight once again. "Sounds good. I was thinking...Saturday morning, say, 10 o'clock? At that new coffee shop downtown." You glance at the calendar on your wall. "Um, I actually have a class then. Could you do twelve and we could get lunch?" "Sounds great, darlin'." The two of you continue to talk for what feels like hours, and when you finally hang up, your heart is giddy with excitement. You turn to look at yourself in the mirror. "Jesus fucking Christ," you mutter to yourself. "Am I really going on a date with the hottest fucking man in Austin? Maybe....maybe he truly does want to do it to talk about Sarah. Don't let 'em get in your head, girl," you scold yourself sternly. After Joel hangs up, he leans back in his chair and runs his hand through his grey-streaked hair. "Was I being too forward?" He thought to himself. "Maybe she thinks I'm some sort of creep. No, she reacted pretty well to me asking her."

Both of you went to bed that night with looming doubts over your head, along with anticipation for Saturday to come.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter to yourself. The numbers 11:43 glare back at you and you still haven’t picked out an outfit.

Finally, finally you settle on slightly baggy jeans paired with a button up, cropped shirt that had a cute tie in the front. A little more skin than you usually show, but you know Joel will appreciate it. Not having time to put on real makeup, you quickly apply some lip gloss and mascara. After triple checking yourself in the mirror, you deem yourself worthy of Joel’s attention. You glance at the clock again. 11:56. You’re definitely going to be late. You throw yourself and your belongings into your car, driving the short ten minutes to the coffee shop. You see Joel already waiting outside, wearing a button down black and green flannel with black pants. You can tell he’s nervous, and you feel bad for being so late.

“Hey,” you call to him, rushing out of your car. “I’m so sorry I was late- I got caught up-“

“Hey, darlin, it’s okay,” he says soothingly, standing up to awkwardly pull your chair away from the table for you. “You look beautiful.”

You giggle, making his heart flutter as you both sit down and pick up a menu. You can’t help but notice how your knees brush together under the table, sending electric shocks through your body with just that simple touch.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, hot stuff,” you grin.

“Me? Hot stuff? I think you got the wrong guy,” Joel laughs, but secretly inside, he was raving at your compliment.

“So, what was it you were wanting to talk about Sarah?” You initiate the conversation after ordering your coffees, an iced caramel macchiato for you and a hot black coffee for Joel.

“Just wanted to see how she’s doing in your class. ‘F she has potential, you know, all those basic ass parent questions that you probably get every day.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of him, enhancing his muscular biceps and pecs.

Eyes up, keep your eyes up, you tell yourself.

You laugh easily. “Yeah, I do get that question a lot. But you seem…different. Like you actually care about how your daughter’s doing, unlike some parents who force their kids to dance well so they can win some gold medals. I admire that, Joel.”

Joel feels his cheeks flush as you say that. “I do truly care about Sarah. She’s m’heart and soul, y’know?”

I nod in understanding. “Yeah. I love a lot of my students like they’re my own daughter.” You bite your lip as you try not to smile at the thought of Sarah being your own daughter one day. “Anyways, Sarah is doing great. Even with just having one class, she has a great sense of rhythm and a good concept of the movements it takes to execute dance skills properly. She’s fairly flexible, and with a lot of training she could be one of my top dancers.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, a proud look in his eyes. “That so?” He shakes his head. “That kid is something else, I swear. She’s fucking talented at everything.”

“Well, she had to have gotten her talent from somewhere, huh?” You smirk at Joel. “Are you a dancer? Not that I’m saying you could not be. I think everyone’s a dancer at heart.”

Joel flushes bright red, shaking his head quickly. “No, no. I don’t dance, darlin’.”

“Oh, come on, I’m sure you’re great at it,” you giggle, gently swatting Joel’s shoulder playfully. His skin feels like it was electrified with your touch.

How can a man like someone so much the second time he met them?

“So, tell me about yourself. This is a date, ain’t it?” He asks with a smirk.

You bite your lip, trying to keep yourself from grinning widely. “Yeah, I guess it is. Well, uh, I’m 26, I like to dance-“

“No shit,” Joel interrupts, making you laugh.

“Yeah, I know, crazy, right? Well…let’s see. I moved here from Michigan…you already knew that. I have a dog named Javi, and my favorite color is sage green. I- Jesus, why does it sound like I’m writing my tinder profile?”

Joel smirks. “No need. You got everything you need right here.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“No, I’m serious. You truly are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on, you know that?” He says softly, and you can’t help but notice how his hand scoots closer to yours slightly.

“You’re pretty easy on the eyes yourself,” you joke, but you can’t hide the heat climbing up your cheeks.

“So, what about you? Tell me what you’d put on your Tinder profile.”

You stick your tongue out at him playfully.

He quickly shakes away the thought of that tongue wrapped around his cock, tears dripping from your pretty eyes. “I-uh, well, I’m pretty fucking sexy, so there’s that.”

You roll your eyes. “Ok, ok, I know that, but actually tell me about yourself, you bastard,” you giggle.

“Ok darlin’, I’m a contractor, I have my own business alongside my younger brother Tommy, who got the less handsome gene of the family,” he smirks. “I’m 35, and my favorite color is…red, I guess? I don’t have much time to think about that shit.”

You lean back in your chair, smiling easily at him.

“Fair enough.”

You two continue to talk effortlessly for almost three hours, before finally, you have to leave to go teach an evening class.

“This was so great, Joel,” you grin, standing up to hug him. “I hope we can do this again in the future?”

”Of course, darlin’. I love talkin’ with you, pretty little thing,” he hugs you back, fighting the urge to kiss you on the cheek. “Call me when you get back to the studio, alright?”

“Will do,” you give him a thumbs up before gathering your stuff up from the table.

“See ya, Joel.”

“See ya, darlin.”

tags (lemme know if you want to be added!)-

@skysmiller

#joel miller x reader #mrs ohara writes shit

29 notes · View notes