#pie makes the mechanical living better. it did. but I have to think of my future. pie is so bad for me.

[pr1ncessavar0se]

Master Detective Archives: RAINCODE - Gumshoe Gab with Lady

Author’s Note: Gumshoe Gab is a free time mechanic in Master Detective Archives: RAINCODE where Yuma Kokohead gets to talk with the other detectives. This won’t contain any spoilers of the game itself, so no need to worry about that! Blue text will be Yuma’s inner thoughts and purple text is Shinigami talking, but only Yuma can hear her. Enjoy!

Gab with Lady Volume #1

Yuma, calling out: Hey, Lady? Lady, where are you? Where did she go…? Lady, behind Yuma: You called? Yuma: Ahh! Lady: Heehee! Yuma: D-Don’t do that to me! Y-You gave me a scare…! Lady: I did? Well in that case, trick or treat! Yuma: It’s not even that time of year… Lady: Oh, speaking of treats, want some of the key lime pie I made? Yuma: Y-You… made a pie? Lady: Sure did! And I’m about to start another too! Yuma: You just finished making one and you’re already making another? Lady: Sure am! Shinigami: Jeez, this girl’s a nonstop baking machine… How the heck does she do it?! Yuma: Hey, Lady… How do you have so much energy to churn out so many sweets for all of us? Have you had experience doing something like this before? Lady: Sure have! Making sweet treats, giving ‘em out to people… Heck, I even helped clean around the place and washed the dishes! Yuma: Wait…you did all of that?! Making desserts, serving them, and cleaning the place… What is she referring to?

Work at a Diner

Yuma: Did you…work at a diner? Lady: Ehehehe, nope! You’re on the right track! Remember, think sweets. Like delicious cheesecakes, amazing tiramisu, stuff along those lines! Yuma: O-Oh, I…guess I was wrong… She would make desserts, serve them, and clean the place… What is Lady referring to when she says this…? Did you…work at a café?

Working at a Café

Yuma: Did you…work at a café? Lady: Sure did! It was amazing! *sigh* The smiles I’d see on everyone’s faces after they ate the treats that I made… That always made me so happy! Yuma: Oh, that’s nice. Lady: And I got to meet so many different kinds of people. It’s amazing how you’d interact with all sorts of people with completely different backgrounds as you, y’know? Yuma: Oh, well…that’s a way to think about it. Lady: And I’d help my grandma clean the place! Two cupcakes are always better than one! Yuma: So, Lady used to work at a café before she became a Master Detective…how sweet. Wait, did you say grandma? Lady: Well, she wasn’t really my grandmother, she was an old lady that found me alone one night and she took me in! And from that point on, I’d help her run the café she owned! Yuma: Took you in? Did you…not have a home before? Lady: Nope! Not until she found me! And at that point, the café became my home! Shinigami: Eek! She was homeless?! Yuma: W-Wait, so when you were a kid, you and your family lived on the streets? Lady: What family? Yuma: H-Huh…? Lady: It was just me! If I had any family members, I certainly couldn’t recall them. Yuma: … Lady: Oh come on now, don’t look so blue! Here, have a slice of the pie. I’ll cut it for ya! Yuma: It’s bewildering to think someone as cheerful as Lady used to be homeless as a child. She seems to have taken that in stride… Lady: And… Ta-da! Here ya go, now you won’t feel so sour anymore! Shinigami: Kyahahaha! Master, you and Lady seem to have gotten closer!

Work at a Bar

Yuma: Did you…work at a bar? Lady: Ahahaha! Oh, Yuma…you’re so silly! Thinking of me as a pretty pink bartender…that’s so cute! Yuma: Oh, so I was wrong…? Whoops… She would make desserts, serve them, and clean the place… What is Lady referring to when she says this…? Did you…work at a café?

Gab with Lady Volume #2

Yuma: Geez…Chief Yakou’s having me do more chores for him again… Lady: Ooh, maybe I could help! Yuma: Huh? Y-You want to help? Lady: Sure do! Two sets of hands is always better than one! Plus, you know me! I’ve already got somethin’ in the oven, I’ve got more than enough time to spare! Yuma: That’s really kind of you, Lady… Shinigami: Hold on, are you sure you want the embodiment of a sugar rush to help out?! She might make everything messier! Yuma: I’m not sure, Shinigami. She did say that she used to clean the café she worked at as a kid… Shinigami: Yeah, fair point. Lady: So, what do you say? Yuma: That’ll be really useful, thank you. Lady: Sure thing! Tell me where to start! Small Time Skip Yuma: Whew…that went by fast. Thanks again, Lady. You really helped a lot. Lady: It’s no trouble! Baking a big gourmet wedding cake is gonna go way quicker with more hands! Yuma: But, we weren’t baking a cake? We were just cleaning… Lady: Well, yeah, but you’re picking up the entrée, right? Yuma: I’m…what? Shinigami: Jeez, why does she keep saying stuff like that?! It’s so confusing and it makes me want candy at the same time! Yuma: When Lady talks about baking a big wedding cake together, she’s referring to something…but what is she referring to?

Teamwork

Yuma: You mean…teamwork? Lady: Ding ding ding! There ya go! It’s all a matter of teamwork! Plus, who’s gonna make sure the cake looks just as good as it tastes? Yuma: I-I guess that makes sense… Hey Lady, how come you wanted to help out? Lady: Huh? What do you mean? Yuma: You didn’t have to offer a hand, but you did anyway… Lady: Oh yeah! I figured you’d want a little help! It’ll make things go quicker! Yuma: It sure did, thank you. Maybe I could help you out sometime? Lady: Ahahaha! Thank you for the offer, but I’m gonna decline. Yuma: Huh?! Lady: It’s really sweet of you, honest! I just prefer doing things alone! I guess I just got really used to it, y’know? Yuma: I guess… You seemed like the type of person to want help every now and then, Lady. Lady: I do? Well, aren’t I a mixed bag of candy then? Hahaha! Yuma: Can I ask why you prefer to work alone? Lady: … Meow? Yuma: H-Huh?! Lady: Meow, meow, meow! Shinigami: Careful, Master! She’s about to knock a glass off the table! Yuma: Lady, don’t! Lady: Meowww! Shinigami: Kyahahaha! Master, you and Lady seemed to have grown even closer!

The Joy of Baking

Yuma: Are you talking about…the joy of baking? Lady: Ehehehe, not this time! Yuma: Wait, really? Wow, that’s a first… What Lady means by having more hands to bake a big wedding cake… You mean…teamwork?

Doing Business

Yuma: Do you mean…doing business? Lady: You think me offering help was transactional? Aw, now you’ve got me feeling sour! Yuma: N-No, I didn’t mean that! Oops… What Lady means by having more hands to bake a big wedding cake… You mean…teamwork?

Gab with Lady Volume #3

Lady: Yuma! How are you doing, sugarcube? Yuma: Huh? S-Sugarcube…? Lady: Yeah, silly! What, you’ve never heard an endearing nickname like that before? Yuma: N-No, it’s not that! Lady: Ehehe, I know! I’m just messing with you a bit! Yuma: Oh… It’s weird, Lady’s surprisingly easy to talk to… She can easily carry a conversation, let alone start one… So, it’s kind of easier to talk to her because of that alone. Lady: Hm? Whatcha thinking of? Having an internal monologue or something? Yuma: H-How did you-?! Lady: Ahahahaha! I was right, wasn’t I? I could tell because of your face! Yuma: Really? You could? Lady: Well, yes and no. It is partially because of that, but to be honest, I was pulling your leg a little. It’s weird… I kind of expected my own guess to be wrong since my answer was so out of nowhere. But, here we are! This usually tends to happen with me. Yuma: Tends to happen…? Lady: Well, yeah! Y’know, it’s kind of like winging a recipe. You’re forgetting what ingredients you need to use and what order to do everything, but you end up getting it all right in the end! You get what I mean, right? Yuma: Do I? Lady: Aw c’mon! Put that big brain of yours to use! What do you think I mean? Yuma: O-Okay, I will…! Um… When Lady talks about how you wing a recipe only to get it all correct in the end…what does she mean?

Good Luck

Yuma: Do you mean…having good luck? Lady: There you go! See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? This just tends to happen for me! I guess they call me “Lady Luck” back at the WDO for a reason! Yuma: Wait, they call you that…? Lady: Sure do! I mean, I usually just guess things as a joke, and then they tend to be right! Yuma: Really? But, what about your detective work? Surely, you don’t do that with investigations…? Lady: I do sometimes! Shinigami: Are you serious?! Lady: Haha! Shocking, right? Honestly, I shock myself with it! Yuma: But, you use your investigative skills and your Forte too…right? Lady: My investigative skills, yes. My Forte, no. Yuma: Huh? Y-You don’t use your Forte? Lady: I like giving myself a challenge. Yuma: A…challenge? Lady: Well, yeah! Rather than actually having to deal with it, I try to just eyeball it! And if I can’t, I use it as a last resort. Yuma: A last resort…? What do you mean by last resort? Lady: … Yuma: Please don’t knock anything over. Lady: Meow! Yuma: Lady, seriously. Lady: Okay, okay. Oh, that reminds me! I just recently made some mille-feuilles! Would you want some? Shinigami: And there she goes, changing the subject back to desserts. Yuma: Oh, um…sure! Thank you! Lady: Yaaay! C’mon, Yuma! To the kitchen! Yuma: Aah! Shinigami: Kyahahaha! Master, you and Lady seemed to have grown even closer!

Intuition

Yuma: Are you talking about intuition…? Lady: Pfft-ahahahahaha! I would say that’s right, but it’s completely wrong! Ahahahahaha! Yuma: O-Oh, ahaha… I guess that was wrong… Um…what does Lady mean when you wing a recipe entirely but get it right? Do you mean…having good luck?

Context Clues

Yuma: You’re using context clues…? Lady: Aw c’mon, Yuma. We just went over this! It’s partially context clues, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Yuma: O-Oops! I guess that was the wrong answer… Um…what does Lady mean when you wing a recipe entirely but get it right? Do you mean…having good luck?

Gab with Lady Volume #4

Yuma: Um, Lady? Lady: Oh, hey Yuma! Yuma: Is it all right if I asked you a question? Lady: Sure can! Ask away, pop the bubblegum! Yuma: Pop the bubblegum…? O-Okay, um…you like sweets a lot, right? And you learned to bake back home… Lady: Sure did! Why? What’s got your licorice tied in a knot? Yuma: Thinking about it now, it has me wondering… Why do you like desserts so much? Is it because of living in a café, or is it something else? Lady: Ohh! That’s what you’re wondering about, huh? Well, the café is part of it, but there’s something else about sweets that always drives me wild. Anything sweet is amazing! It makes me feel like I’m on top of the world, not to mention it overpowers anything bitter or nasty! Yuma: Overpowers anything bitter or nasty…? Lady: That’s exactly what I said! Yuma: Huh… Lady says she means that sweet stuff overpowers anything bitter. What does she mean by that…?

Love For Sweets

Yuma: Are you talking about…your love for sweets? Lady: No! Well, yes, but that’s not what I mean! Yuma: I guess that was wrong… What does Lady mean by sweet stuff overpowering bitter flavors? Are you saying it’s a palette cleanser…?

Bringing Happiness

Yuma: Do you mean that…it brings you happiness? Lady: Ahahaha! Never say that again. Yuma: H-Huh?! I was completely off with that…! What does Lady mean by sweet stuff overpowering bitter flavors? Are you saying it’s a palette cleanser…?

Palette Cleanser

Yuma: Are you saying it’s a palette cleanser…? Lady: Yes! That’s exactly it! It’s such a nice palette cleanser! Any sweet treat I eat will immediately make me forget about anything gross I’ve eaten beforehand! Yuma: A-Anything gross…? Shinigami: What does she mean by that? Lady: Oh right, probably should’ve told you. So, you know how I was homeless as a kid, right? Yuma: Right… Lady: Yeah, um…I kind of had to do some interesting things to survive. Y’know, like digging through trash and eating roadkill… Yuma: H-Huh?! Shinigami: Y-You mean to tell she’s eaten dead things before?! Lady: Yeah, not my proudest moment…but I managed to make it this far in life! Ahaha! Yuma: H-How are you even alive?! Lady: Most of the time, it was pretty fresh. Heck, you only have twelve hours to eat roadkill before it spoils. Shinigami: Jeez! Just when I thought she couldn’t get worse, she gets even crazier! Yuma: Lady…you’re crazy. Lady: Ahahaha! Sure am! Luckily, I don’t have to do that anymore! Yuma: Y-Yeah… Lady sure does know a lot about how to survive on her own. It’s one thing to have to face that, but as a kid who was all alone…it must’ve been even harder. Hey, Lady… Can I ask another question? Lady: Sure can, ask away! Yuma: You seemed to struggle a lot when you were a kid, so…how do you stay so happy all the time? Lady: Well, that’s easy! You’ve just gotta be your own sweetness! Yuma: Huh? Be your own sweetness…? Lady: Sure is! By the way, there’s macarons in the fridge! Go on, take some! Yuma: Really? Thank you! Shinigami: Kyahahaha! Master, you and Lady seemed to have grown even closer!

Gab with Lady Volume #5

Lady: Ah, Yuma! Perfect timing! Yuma: H-Huh? Perfect timing? Lady: Yeah, perfect timing! Y’know, I was thinking about the last time we were hanging out. With the whole “be your own sweetness” thing, right? It’s nice to have sweet things all around you, and we all want to think that life’s gonna be peaches and cream… Shinigami: What is she talking about…? Yuma: Just say it, Lady. Lady: I meant that you have to rely on yourself. Yuma: W-What?! Lady’s always so friendly, so hearing her talk about being alone is so shocking to me… Lady: Yeah. Like I said, not everything’s a cakewalk. Hell, I think I’m a prime example! Yuma: You are? Lady: Well, yeah! Whenever something goes wrong, all you can really do is just pick yourself up and move on with your head held high! It’s like a puzzle! Take all the broken pieces to make a pretty picture! Yuma: Huh… When she puts it like that, I think I’m starting to understand. Taking something that’s broken and repairing it to make a pretty picture means…

Staying Positive

Yuma: Do you mean…staying positive? Lady: Aw c’mon, Yuma! I thought you knew it was more than that! Yuma: I guess that means I’m wrong… Taking something broken and putting it back together to make a pretty picture means… Do you mean…being resilient?

Being Kind

Yuma: Do you mean…being kind? Lady: You’re not making any sense. Yuma: W-What?! Hearing that from Lady… Now I know that I’m wrong…! Taking something broken and putting it back together to make a pretty picture means… Do you mean…being resilient?

Resilience

Yuma: Do you mean…being resilient? Lady: Exactly! You really are on my wavelength! Yuma: So, due to how bad your childhood was, you learned to be resilient? Lady: Sure did! I can’t let small stuff like that get me down! Yuma: That’s a nice way of thinking about it. But wait a minute, you said an old lady took you in and you worked for her at a café…don’t you still have that? Lady: Oh, so you did remember that. Um, how do I put this… Yuma: Put what? Lady: There’s a reason I’m a detective now and don’t work at the café anymore… Shinigami: Don’t tell me she boom-killed someone! Yuma: I don’t think it’s that, but something bad must’ve happened… Lady, are you sure you want to talk about it? Y-You really don’t have to if you don’t want to…! Lady: No, it’s okay! I don’t mind. So, I’m sure you know about the roller skates I have built into my shoes, right? Yuma: Right. Lady: Well, when I was younger, I found an old pair of roller skates and that had me thinking. So, I suggested the idea of a delivery service for the café, and grandma loved it! Since then, I would skate and deliver the snackeroos to happy customers! And one day, I was doing exactly that! I thought the idea would lead to amazing things in the future! But, it wasn’t amazing… Yuma: Huh…? Lady: I had only left for five minutes. Five minutes was all it took for the whole place to… Yuma: The whole place to…? Lady: To burn down. Shinigami: She lost her home?! No wonder this poor girl’s crazy! Lady: I lost everything. My home, my family… It felt like a part of me died that day, Yuma. But, there was one thing I gained. Yuma: There was? Lady: My Forte. Honestly, it’s part of the reason I don’t like using it. It makes me remember… But, that’s all in the past now! I know what it’s like to lose something important, and that’s why I want to help people! They need to know they are not alone. Yuma: … That’s…a lot to take in. Lady lost everything, even her loved ones, and it’s the main reason she even became a detective. She may be crazy, but she certainly does have a heart of gold. Lady: Huh? You alright? That wasn’t too much, was it? Yuma: N-No, it wasn’t! In all honesty, it makes me admire you, Lady. To use your own experiences to help others going through something similar, it’s truly noble of you. Lady: Aww! Yuma, you’re so sweet! Now, come on! Let’s go share some cookies together! Shinigami: Kyahahaha! Master, you and Lady have forged the ultimate bond together! Good for you, Master. I’m happy for you!

#ava’s writing #master detective archives: rain code #rain code #lady soot #original character #rain code oc #mdarc #master detective archives oc #mdarc oc #gumshoe gab #oc gumshoe gab #WE GETTIN LADY LORE TODAY BOYES #WEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE

[curoopeez]

(Final?) Update on my vegetarian anti colonialist minecraft world:

I managed to find the stronghold. I will admit, I cheated to find it. I tried the legal way and it didn't work. In fact, it was so hard to find the stronghold that when I finally got to the portal room I had lost one too many ender eyes and had to go back to the nether to make more

The end fight went smoothly, but I was using shaders to make it more epic and that ended up causing me to miss some mlg clutches. It's fine tho, my boots had feather falling maxed out, I barely felt anything

Speaking of enchantmens, I couldn't find any mending books but I did find a couple with sharpness, so I had a sharpness V diamond sword for the battle

Honestly I don't know if I'm gonna keep playing now that I've beat the game. Maybe some day I'll come back to it

Now, lemme talk about my experience under the limitations I put myself through

Early game it's really hard to be a vegetarian. In most worlds that I tried the hail mary was running into pumpkins, because sugarcanes and chikens are easy to find and with sugar eggs and pumpkins you can make pie, which can be a food source until you grow a wheat farm

The enchantments were straight up upsetting. The enchanting table needs an update asap. Make it less random the enchants you get, make it easier to add enchants to an already enchanted item, or at the very least make mending a part of the enchanting table loot.

All the other treasure enchants have reasonable excuses for being exclusive. You have to get soul speed from piglins because they live in the nether and can know ways to navigate there better than any overworlder. You have to get swift sneak from ancient city chests because whoever lived there had to figure out a way to live with wardens around. Frostwalker doesn't have any specific mob or structure connected to it, but at least you can get depth strider from enchanting, which gives you an alternative to move around on water

The only way to get exactly the enchants you want is with villagers, and I have conflicting thoughts about them. On one hand, they are a form of community a player can form, and the fact they are so op highlights the power of making connections and being around other people. On the other, the way the game incentivizes players to interact with villagers resembles slavery in an unconfortable number of ways. I think that could be remedied by changing the restock mechanics so that they have some basic needs met, like making villagers have to sleep or chatter with other villagers to restock (both mechanics already in the game and affect golem spawning)

Nametags should have a crafting recipe. Some of my dogs remained unnamed because I didn't have enough nametags, and I had to leave some nametags behind on chests I knew I wouldn't be able to find again because my inventory was full. Being able to name pets should not be a treasure loot, that's just another thing to be dependent on villagers for

Finally, the stronghold entrance room should be wider. I dug straight down where the ender eyes phased through the floor 3 different times, and each of them I had to mine hundreds of blocks because with the new terrain generation it takes forever to check if you're digging in the wrong place or just not deep enough. Just make a wide entrance room that's all I ask

#minecraft #mineblr

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 4 - Awkwardness Ensues

Ophelia uses her next paycheck to buy a violin, since she knows the Laurents expect her to be decent at it before she can work for their wedding band. She's not exactly a natural. Her ears are relieved when Libby invites her to hang out with her and the BFFs

The weather is terrible, but this Garden and Cafe that Libby invited Ophelia to is pretty cool. They're the first to arrive.

Ophelia: Did you get a makeover?

Libby: We were actually just on Dream Home Decorator! The host said we had to to be on TV.

Ophelia: Harsh

Travis is the next to show up. He seems weirdly nervous but the girls' lively conversation perks him back up.

Ophelia learns that the BFFs have known each other since elementary school. How do you make friends in a rabbit hole, Ophelia wonders?

Libby eventually wanders off to shop, leaving Travis and Ophelia alone.

Ophelia: So Libby told me this place has amazing pie.

Travis: The best. It's up in the second cafe.

Ophelia: Second cafe? Whoever built this place went all out!

Ophelia: Wow, you ate your slice before I even sat down.

Travis: Sorry, I'm just a little nervous.

Ophelia: About what?

Travis: ...Maybe after you're done we should talk someplace more comfortable. And better lit.

Travis: I think there's a real connection here, something that I haven't felt in a long time. I... I wanted to ask you... to be my best friend.

Ophelia: ...what?

Travis: ...Yeah. Y'know, best buddies. Super amigos... A third thing.

Ophelia: This is literally the second time we've met. You've known Summer and Libby since you were kids. Don't you think that's kind of insulting to them?

Travis gets up, very PO'ed.

Travis: You barely even thought about it before you clicked the No Way option! My parents met, fell in love, and got married in 8 hours and you won't even be my best friend after two days?

The woman was too stunned to speak.

Travis: It's not even what I was originally going to ask you, but now I'm glad I didn't.

Ophelia: Well, what WERE you going to ask?

Travis: ...Forget it. I was just trying to be nice to someone who's new in town. See you around.

Ophelia: ...Okay.

By the time Ophelia gets downstairs, Travis is gone. She doesn't know what to do... so she steals an entire pastry display. Not the best coping mechanism, girly.

Right after swiping, Summer runs in!

Ophelia: It was gone when I got here!

Summer ignores her.

Summer: OMW, what happened?! I just saw Travis storm off! Did him asking you out go that badly?

Ophelia: Wh-What are you talking about?

Summer: I've never seen him that upset! Couldn't you at least have let him down a little more nicely like I did with your brownies?

Ophelia: Summer, I don't know what you're talking about! Travis didn't ask me out. He asked me to be his best friend.

Summer: ...he what.

Ophelia: I swear, I had no idea he felt that way. He's never even done a romance interaction with me.

Summer: Oh My Watcher, that dummy. All last night he kept going on and on like "I'm really going to do it this time, I'm not going to chicken out like I did with Alex Moyer!"

Ophelia: I didn't mean to hurt his feelings.

Summer: He hurt his own feelings by being a goober. He has to learn to say what's on his mind. I'll talk to him later, calm him down. I don't want things to be weird between all of us.

Maybe Summer wasn't so bad after all.

I forgot to mention along with the pastry display, Ophelia also stole a whole sign from the cafe, lol

They're not worth much, so she keeps them for decoration considering she couldn't afford any when she first moved to Willow Creek. Maybe one day she can steal a decent TV.

Ophelia also treats herself to a non-stolen speaker, so the music-loving Sim can make housework a little more fun.

It was getting too quiet, but alas, that's the life of a single, first generation Sim.

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #The Sims 4 Legacy #The Lemon Legacy #TS4 #The Sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 #generation 1 #travis #libby #summer #ophelia

[amos-reviews]

I’ve started my Cutie Pie rewatch, ahead of the special being released next month (Jan 2023 if you are seeing this in the future). I can’t recall if I posted anything about it when I started watching the show earlier this year, but both Lian and Kuea are complicit in their current relationship status, even if these were heavily influenced by outside forces.

Kuea has loved Lian one way or another since they were kids, but was told he had to be a ‘good boy’ in order to be loved by Lian.

As the older of the two, Lian has cared for Kuea since he was born, and was old enough to have a greater understanding of the implications of the marriage betrothal made by the grandfathers when they were still kids. Having come from a poorer family than Kuea, he has felt the weight of the obligation put on him by family that should have known better, and has felt the need to prove that he is worthy to take care of Kuea for the rest of their lives.

That need to prove himself, coupled with Kuea’s parents basically transferring guardianship to Lian when Kuea returned to Thailand for school, seems to have impacted Lian greatly. Date nights became a weekly obligation, and with Lian still trying to become worthy of the pedestal Kuea put him on, I suspect he lost sight of what was important outside of building his empire.

Meanwhile Kuea was leading a double life. He had a whole house left to him, soundproofed for his music practice, so someone in his family / entourage had to have known both about the drumming and motorcycles / mechanical engineering studies. Yet to Lian and most of those in the main compound, he is the perfect mostly behaved boy that is suitable for Lian.

Kuea isn’t showing his true self to Lian, because Lian is constantly shown to be always serious and in business mode. There is nothing in his personality that is being shown that would make Kuea think his true self would be compatible with Lian. So for Lian to call Kuea ‘Annabelle’, a doll devoid of life, seems hypocritical. Kuea isn’t showing Lian who he really is, but neither is Lian to Kuea.

This setup makes for great tension to drive the first part of the story. But it still always angers me when Lian basically calls Kuea fake at the end of ep 1. I would be calling off the engagement to if the person to whom I was promised said the same to me. If the chemistry between the characters didn’t build the way it did thanks to Zee and Nunew, I doubt the series would have been the success it was.

#cutie pie the series #cutie pie #amos rambles #lian kilen wang #kuea keerati #lian x kuea #zeenunew

[hansolmates]

me time (m)

summary; the first time virgin!mc meets her mans (but she doesn’t know it yet) pairing; jungkook x virgin!mc genre/warnings; fluff, college!au, boarding house!au, based on the virgin!oc discourse, female masturbation (thanks to the pretty bridgertons), a lil sad and longing at the end w/c; 1.3k a/n; y’all really brought manhater!mc and virgin!mc to life! this couldn’t be done without all of your fabulous input and support. obviously the virginverse is freeform at this point—think of this more as a prequel for these two. set in freshman year of college, when they’re just acquaintances. (do you guys think of cher from clueless when u think virgin!mc? very outgoing n’cute but also very innocent?) anyway, happy valentine’s day i hope you and your boo (whether digital or in-person) get your me/we time💖

Your wooden lap desk is toppled to the side. Good thing the space between the mattress and floor is small, your pink monstera-shaped rug softening the blow when your water bottle, pencils and laptop fall to the floor. In the back of your head you know everything is fine because the last episode of Bridgerton is still playing, an orchestral version of Ariana Grande’s Thank U, Next continuing on as if nothing’s astray. 

Yet you’re nothing but astray, forgotten about the episode and writhing against your too-small twin as you let yourself cum for the umpeeth time. 

You’ve lost track at this point (how couldn't you? Bridgerton is hot) but from the way your hair mats to your face like a second skin and your pussy feels spent and battered, it’s been awhile. This should be your new Valentine’s Day tradition, fucking yourself until you pass out on your vibrator. 

“Ah, ah fu—uck, yyyes!” 

The sheets are sopping. The grey cotton fabric does nothing to hide your juices that seep from your bare cunt to the mattress. Flinging your silicone toy to the side, you pull your hair up and out of your face. 

Water, you need water. Maybe a cup of green tea with a dollop of honey. Sugar always helps the immediate low after a good couple of rounds. 

However, you’ll never get used to the feeling of cleaning up yourself. The feeling that you’ve done something completely lewd all on your own, no one to assure you the things you’re doing are weird. It’s okay though. You love to be alone, it takes a lot for you to feel lonely. 

You slip on a pair of dolphin-cut shorts, too tiny that they are drowned beneath your emerald green slip dress. Quickly opening the door to your room, you’re met with absolute silence. White walls containing empty rooms and a living room without a soul. Just like you’re expecting in a college boardhouse on Valentine’s Day. 

What you’re not expecting however, is Jeon Jungkook staring at you the second you crack your door open. 

“If you’re screaming that loud, your partner must be doing a good job.” 

Jungkook lives on the other side of the boarding house, therefore you’ve never really interacted with him. Excluding the landlord there’s only five other tenants, a group large enough that you’ve never had to have one-on-one with him. 

You really didn’t think anyone would be in the house on Valentine’s, especially Jungkook. He’s an absolute cutie pie, even though you don’t know anything about him. The only thing you really know is that his sparkly brown eyes are to die for, they remind you of coffee milk tea, a craving you only indulge in at the end of finals season. 

To your surprise, Jungkook looks like he hasn’t gone out all weekend. Him, single? As if! Yet you can’t justify any reasoning behind him being home if did have a girlfriend or boyfriend. His dark hair is fluffy and freshly showered, and you can’t ignore the smell of linens from his soft sweats and long navy hoodie. 

Normally, you’d be quiet during Me Time. You’ve perfected the art, stuffing your mouth with your pillow or playing action movies to muffle out the sound. You thought you were in the clear. The thought of Jungkook overhearing you turns you on a little, makes the dampness between your panties even more evident, but you keep that self-indulgent secret to yourself. 

“Oh, well,” you curl your lips in a smirk, closing the door behind you so he doesn’t see that your room is actually very much devoid of life, “she’s very powerful.” 

She, meaning your favorite vibrator in your entire world. It has ten settings and a heating mechanism. More importantly, it’s rechargeable. You don’t know how you’d survive freshman year otherwise. 

“Okay, TMI,” despite the fact Jungkook’s blushing he’s chuckling, holding a hand out for you in the narrow hallway, “after you.” 

You quickly slip past him, walking into the shared kitchenette. Bare feet slapping against the hardwood, your eyes immediately gravitate toward the upper cabinet. Jungkook is following you, presumably to get his own late night snack. When you lift your arms to reach your mug, you feel a little bit of cool air brush against the uppers of your thighs. It’s a nightgown, a pretty satin slip  that falls over your curves and leaves much to the imagination. A couple more centimeters to get your mug and you’ll be definitely flashing Jungkook. 

“Um,” you practically hear the twisted face he’s making. 

“Sorry—I’m sorry!” you blurt, waving your fingers to catch the handle of your mug, “I’m really not trying to flash you—please don’t fill a harassment report! I just can’t reach my mug.” 

“No, that’s my mug.” 

“What, no! I’ve been drinking from this mug all year!” 

“You’ve been drinking from my mug?” Jungkook is affronted, walking past you to easily grab the mug you’ve been struggling to reach for the past minute. He flexes the bottom part of the mug in your face, where his initials are painted in black. “This is my mug, my parents put my handprint on it when I was a year old.”  

It’s then you notice on the lower shelf, there’s an identical mug. This mug has been buried all the way in the back, dust collecting on the rim. It also has a baby handprint on it, although upon closer inspection it’s smaller and in a more faded shade of black. That’s your mug. 

“Oh, Jungkook,” you feel your heart fall all the way to your ass, feeling guilty, “I’m so sorry. I’ve washed it and everything, if it makes you feel any better.” 

He frowns, holding the white porcelain between his hands. A litany of ideas run through your brain. Is he disgusted by using the same mug as you? Have you potentially ruined a prized family treasure? 

Thrusting the mug into your chest he says, “Make me a hot chocolate and we’re even.” 

You smile a little, eager to please. You quickly get to work, simmering the pan with warm milk and melting chopped chocolate. You rinse your mug with some hot water, letting it sit next to his awaiting mug. For a bit of flair you add a capful of vanilla extract, all while Jungkook watches you with mild awe. The smell of sweet late night confections fill the kitchen, a fitting theme for a Valentine’s night. 

“You’re not burning the milk,” Jungkook murmurs more to himself than you, watching as you pour the hot chocolate in cups without spilling a drop. 

Jungkook is known to burn things in the house. The only thing he doesn’t burn is ramen, and that’s purely due to survival skills. 

“What can I say, I’m an expert,” you wink, handing him his mug and you holding yours. 

With matching mugs, the two of you take your first sips of the melty beverage. You lean against the stove facing him, while he faces you against the marble island. Jungkook smiles and a bit of cocoa touches his petal pink lips. He says it’s perfect and you smile into your cup, absolutely swelling with pride. 

Jungkook’s probably working on his photos. He always says his editing bug is itchy at night. While in passing you’ve said you’d love to see his work, however that gesture of kindness never really amounted to anything. Maybe tonight’s the night. You like art, you’d love to be a little more educated with it. Just as you’re about to ask and strike up some conversation, Jungkook beats you to it. 

“Well, hope you and your partner have a good Valentine’s,” Jungkook holds his cup in salute, walking back into his room, “just keep it down.” 

Oh well. You sigh to yourself, letting Jungkook walk away without a fight or a retort. After all, it was you who implied you were sneaking in a bed partner tonight. Sinking your eyes into the brown liquid, you fall into a lull. The creamy liquid swirls in your grasp, making your muddied reflection ripple away. 

You love to be alone, but it takes someone like Jeon Jungkook to remind you that life gets a little lonely. 

#ficswithluv #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #btsguild #btswritingcafe #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts smut

[goldenraeofsun]

4:01 PM

Dean sips his whiskey and glowers across the bar at his own reflection. His wrist is burning like a brand, but it’s probably all in his head. The stupid timers don’t cause physical pain when they reach T-minus zero, Houston we have a problem. The numbers freeze, and that’s that.

Dean’s had counted down to nothing at exactly 4:01 PM, fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of running into his soulmate, getting his number, continuing on his way to this bar, and telling the bartender to keep ‘em coming.

He refuses to look at the far corner of the room, the booth he had reserved like an idiot. Four PM, party of two, under the name Winchester.

On the bar by his glass, his phone is still lit up with Cas’s texts from the past hour.

Cas 3:11 I’m so sorry I have to move our appointment. My client just unexpectedly switched our time to 4pm.

Cas 3:21 I think I’ll be able to escape by 4:30. Can I meet you then?

Dean had responded with a thumbs-up emoji. He didn’t have it in him to say any more.

Cas 3:50 This city is impossible to navigate. How does anyone live here?

Cas 3:58 You were right, I should have rented a car.

Three minutes after Cas’s last text, Dean ran into his soulmate. Right on schedule.

As far as first meetings go, it hadn’t been as much of a shitshow as Dean had expected.

The dude was attractive, at least, and the first thing he did after bumping into Dean was apologize. But he was wearing a tailored suit and glued to his phone, so it definitely could have been better.

His soulmate would’ve run off none the wiser, except Dean had to blurt, “Wait!” because, despite his disappointment, Dean couldn’t let his soulmate disappear into the throngs of Michigan Avenue. Dean wasn't about to fall to one knee, but he also couldn't let his best shot just go.

The man stopped, irritated. His gaze refused to linger on Dean, instead fixating on a building at the end of the block.

Head swimming with too many thoughts to name, Dean couldn’t get the right words out. He gestured mutely to his wrist, pulling up the flannel to show him.

Eyes widening with understanding, his soulmate quickly tugged up the cuff of his sleeve, only sparing a second to verify his own timer stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice.” he said, distracted. “My name is James. Here,” he fished out a pen and something to write on from various pockets of his trench coat, “my number. We… should talk. Later.” He scowled, raising his other wrist to check at his watch. “I need to go.”

“Sure, man,” Dean said, mostly grateful he didn’t have to stick around and have some heart-to-heart with a stranger that was apparently meant for him. Whatever the fuck that actually meant.

“Thank you,” James said swiftly. Without another word, he took off back down the street.

Dean didn’t bother to watch him go. He had a barstool waiting with his name on it.

Sam will laugh himself silly once Dean tells him his perfect match wound up being some corporate suit. Dean once told him he’d rather microwave his own head than set foot in an office cubicle.

Sammy was the big soulmate skeptic in the family. He found his non-timer approved other half while he was protesting an illegal dismissal of a disabled employee. Three years later, when Sam bumped into Gabriel Crawford in a strip club at midnight on Dean’s birthday, he discovered Gabe was perfectly happy to let Sam live his apple pie life while Gabe continued to party like it was 1999.

Gabe made Sam promise to look him up if Eileen was ever down for a threesome.

Turned out, Eileen was.

Sam most certainly was not.

He still sends Gabe a card for the holidays, and usually Gabe sends him back candy samples from wherever he’s vacationing for the winter.

But everyone else Dean knew bought into the soulmates game, hook, line, and sinker. His parents were soulmates. Benny and Garth both settled down with theirs. Charlie and Aaron were holding out for theirs. Hell, even Jo had her weird thing with Bela Talbot.

Dean would’ve counted himself among their number - until he met Cas.

Well, until Cas messaged him on Bobby’s new ask-a-mechanic feature on the garage’s website. Cas had inherited a banged up 1967 Mustang and had no idea where to start with restoration. Apparently Gabe of all people was staying with Cas at his place in southern California, and he recommended Dean.

Why Cas couldn’t just look up a local place still baffles Dean to this day, but he has never been more grateful for Cas’s weird-ass logic.

Their relationship had stayed strictly professional until Cas’s actual car broke down on some random highway in California. Dean had tried to talk Cas through the repair himself, but it was no use. Cas either didn’t have the equipment for the fix, or Dean didn’t diagnose the right problem. Dean was about to hang up, when Cas had asked, clearly embarrassed, “Would you please stay on the line? I have this irrational fear of being murdered in the middle of nowhere where nobody can find my body for proper rites.”

Dean, almost surprising himself, didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “Sure thing. Wanna put me on hold while you get in touch with Triple A?”

He spent an hour and a half on the phone with Cas, telling him stupid stories about the worst things people have done with their cars.

In return, Cas told him all about the stars that were just coming out in the darkening desert sky.

The week after, Bobby’s garage received a gift certificate in the mail. It was for a weeklong stay at the Chicago location of the five-star hotel chain Cas works for, in Dean’s name.

Those little chocolates on the pillows ruined Dean for motels everywhere.

At the bar, Dean signals the bartender for a refill. He glares down at his phone. The little rectangle contains his entire history with Cas, call logs, text receipts, everything.

He can’t look at it any longer. He shoves it in his pocket, and the receipt with his soulmate’s phone number crinkles in protest. With a sigh, Dean takes out the flimsy piece of paper.

James’s handwriting is neat, so Dean doesn’t even have the excuse of not being able to read a digit or two.

Maybe Dean will give him a call after his drink with Cas. Hopefully, once James finds out that Dean’s just a mechanic, lives in a shoebox apartment in Bucktown, and has never been to Aspen or the Alps, he’ll tell Dean to take a hike.

Dean flips the receipt over, and his stomach gives a sickening lurch. In pretentious curlicue lettering, the first words Dean reads are, The Nine Spheres.

James is staying at Cas’s hotel.

Fucking great. Dean crumples the receipt and shoves it back in his pocket. With his luck, James will probably want to meet in the restaurant on the first floor, the fancy-ass place with the steakhouse burger and truffle fries Dean would actually sell his soul for.

Dean actually dreamed about that burger, a few months after his Cas-sponsored stay. When he told Cas about it, Cas let out a bark of laughter.

In the next breath, though, he told Dean he does the same when he’s scoping out a new location and can’t stay at a nearby Nine Spheres.

Dean tips back his glass of whiskey. It’s stopped burning on the way down his throat, a good sign.

He was so stupid, thinking he could fuck with destiny, fate, or whatever shitty power up there decides soulmates.

Once Cas told him about his business trip to his neck of the woods, Dean had taken one look at the numbers on his arm counting down and did the math. He would meet his soulmate smack dab in the middle of Cas’s window in Chicago.

He could make Cas be his soulmate. Cas never brought up his timer, if it was still ticking, if he’d already met his other half. And Dean, coward that he was, never asked. If he didn’t know for sure, then there was that slim, slim chance that theirs matched up after all.

But no, Cas had to go and switch up their meeting time at the last second, and Dean had run into James instead.

His pocket buzzes with a new text. Mood lower than Cas’s voice register, Dean slides his phone out.

Cas 4:38 My meeting is over. Should I still meet you at the same place?

Dean 4:39 Yeah Hope its okay I got started without you

Cas 4:40 More than okay, considering my scheduling difficulties.

Dean 4:40 See you soon

Dean sighs and drains his glass.

Foot jiggling on the barstool and eyes trained on his hands clasped in front of him, Dean deliberately does not look around as the door opens.

And opens again.

And again.

Confused and irritated, Dean takes another look around. Above the bar, a chalkboard clearly proclaims Happy Hour from 4:30-6:30 PM. Dean ducks his head, scowling into the remains of his drink. He probably overlooked the sign before because of his single-minded quest to get shitfaced like a freshly-dumped senior at prom stuck next to the spiked punch bowl.

His phone obnoxiously tells him it’s 4:43.

That’s just great. Dean hops off the stool, meaning to ask the hostess if anyone’s asked for Winchester, when James pushes open the door.

Dean stops dead in his tracks.

James freezes, his eyes going wide. His trench coat swishes ominously to a stop.

Should Dean turn around? Pretend he didn’t see? Cas is going to be here any second.

Before he can make up his mind, James is walking towards him. “Hello,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

Dean swallows. “Me neither,” he says honestly.

James scans the small crowd now gathered around the bar, brow furrowing in concentration. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

Dean lets out a silent exhale of relief. He musters up a weak smile. “No problem, man. I’ll leave you to it.” As he turns back around, James steps up to the hostess stand.

James says, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the din, “I’m a bit late, but is there a reservation for Winchester? For 4:30?”

Dean could not possibly have heard what he thinks he did. But the timing is right - for once. He spins around, practically losing his balance thanks to the booze he already drank.

The hostess scans her sheet of names, shaking her head. “There was a reservation for Winchester at four PM, but that’s it.”

James’s face falls. Shoulders slumping, he pulls out his phone, squinting as the screen lights up. “He said he was here,” he mutters.

He can’t be Cas. That would be crazy - like, dingo ate my baby, crazy.

“Could be at the bar,” the hostess says flippantly, tilting her head to the crowded area. “Most of ‘em don’t check in.”

James’s lips press together. “Thank you,” he says to the hostess, his tone clipped. “I’ll wait there.”

Dean steps in front of him before James can get lost in the throng of people. “I heard you’re lookin’ for me,” he says with a confidence that’s only 99% bullshit.

James blinks. “You?”

“Dean Winchester, at your service,” he says, spreading his arms wide.

“Dean,” he echoes, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s body, drinking him in with his new eyes.

“Gotta say,” Dean drawls as his heart pounds with nerves. Doubt niggles at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t scratch, but he’s already made his memory foam bed. Might as well lie in it. “Cas is the weirdest nickname for James that I’ve ever heard.”

“My full name is James Castiel Novak,” Cas says, flushing. “James - that’s what I go by professionally. My family calls me Castiel.”

Dean can’t hold back his broad grin. “Family, eh?”

Cas’s expression takes a swift dive from embarrassed to mortified. “And friends,” he tacks on. He takes a step closer, staring at Dean’s face in wonder. “But you’re also my soulmate.”

Dean laughs giddily. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t beat around the bush. Not your style.” He jerks his head towards the bar. “I think I see an open seat. You wanna have that talk now?”

Cas hesitates. “Would you like to go to Nine Spheres instead? I’ve had business dinners every evening I’ve been in Chicago so far, and, while the food has been good-”

“It’s not the steakhouse burger?” Dean finishes for him.

The corners of Cas’s mouth turn down into a slight grimace. “Last night, a client treated us to tapas. I woke up starving.”

Dean smiles. “You know I’m always down for that burger.”

“Excellent,” Cas says with relish as he pushes open the door.

They walk onto the street, and it’s almost offensively quiet after the noise of the bar. It’s a balmy Spring evening, the sun still relatively high in the sky.

“You don’t seem disappointed anymore,” Cas says out of nowhere as they reach the end of the block.

So Cas caught on to that, back when they first ran into each other. Dean shrugs. “I just got stood up by the guy I’d specially set up to meet me at 4:01. Wouldn’t you be?”

Cas clears his throat, asking hoarsely, “You wanted it to be me?”

Dean throws him a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Cas just shrugs. The light changes, and they step off the curb.

“Were you… disappointed?” Dean asks hesitantly.

Cas lets out a surprised laugh. “Of course not. I didn’t even think - well,” he falters, casting a sidelong look at Dean, “I’m not disappointed. Believe me.”

The automatic doors to Nine Spheres open, hitting them with a burst of perfectly conditioned air. Dean hasn’t stepped foot in the hotel since Cas paid for his stay, but it hasn’t changed one bit. The same tiered giant chandelier glitters overhead. Giant pillars bracket the concierge desk to the left and the enormous staircase to the right that leads up to the second floor rooms. The tiled floor, so polished Dean can practically see his reflection, stretches the length of the lobby.

Dean sticks out like a flannel-wearing sore thumb. “Cas,” he hisses, “hold on. I don’t think I’m dressed right for this place.”

Cas sucks in a breath. “No,” he says as Dean’s heart sinks, “I suppose not.” He jerks his head towards the elevator bay. “Room service?”

Dean blinks.

“I’ve called for the burgers on several occasions at other locations,” Cas assures him. “It tastes as good.”

Was Cas actually trying to convince him to go up to his room? What a dumbass. Dean laughs.

Cas colors, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Forget it,” he mutters. “We don’t-”

“You know, if you invite me up to your room,” Dean cuts him off, “you’re going to have a bitch of a time getting me to leave, right?”

Cas stares at him.

“Dude,” Dean says, “I’ve never stayed anywhere this nice in my life. Between the food, the water pressure, and the robe that felt like I was fucking a cloud, I had enough of a hard time leaving last time.”

“I’m glad,” Cas says stiltedly. “We strive to provide the optimal experience to all our guests.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “’M saying, add you to the mix, and they’re gonna have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming.”

“And if I don’t want you to leave?” Cas asks in an undertone as he pushes the up button for the elevator.

“Then I guess we don’t have a problem,” Dean says, winking.

Cas’s responding grin falls as the doors close behind them and the elevator starts moving. He shakes his head. “It’s a shame there are cameras in here.”

Dean leans in closer, whispering in his ear, “Doesn’t bother me much. Whaddya say to giving the peeping toms a show, then?”

Cas bites his lip, and this close, Dean can see how his eyes have blown black with want. “I - I can’t.”

It’s like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. Dean steps back, shame filling him. That’s fine. He can regroup. Hopefully Cas will be more receptive behind closed doors. It’s not the first time this has happened, anyway.

“Dean, I have to work with these people every day,” Cas hisses, wringing his hands. “The last time an executive got… busy with a coworker in the pool, the mocking didn’t end for weeks. Not to mention her rebuke from upper management.” He throws Dean a desperate look. “I would like for you to be fully clothed by the time you meet my coworkers for the first time.”

Cas is already planning for Dean to meet his people?

The elevator dings, and Cas steps out. “Are you coming?” he asks hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says quickly. As he follows Cas down the maze of rooms, he has to ask, “You were planning on introducing me to your coworkers?”

Cas’s cheeks pink. “Unless you were opposed to it,” he mutters as he stops in front of Room 1518. He sighs, making no move to insert his keycard. Instead, he lifts his head to meet Dean’s gaze squarely. “I’ve put in a transfer request to Chicago.”

“What?”

“It was before I knew you were my soulmate,” Cas says quickly. “I’ve never felt like I fit in in California, and my parents live in Pontiac. The Chicago office is decently large, and, well, I knew you were here,” he says, his voice going quiet near the end. He straightens. “So there were many reasons.”

“You’re staying?” Dean says, his mouth dry.

Cas bobs a nervous nod. “I hope that’s okay.”

Dean grins. “Sure is.”

Cas touches the inside of his wrist, his expression turning almost shy. “Of course, when I first pictured introductions, it was strictly as a friend. I don’t really know anyone else in this city well, and I’ve told you about my difficulty in social situations, so it would’ve been more for moral support than anything else. But after this evening -”

Dean interrupts his rambling. “Are there cameras in the hallway?”

“What- oh,” Cas says, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips before back up again. “Yes?” He points. “They’re all the way down there, though, so they can’t -”

Dean cuts him off with a heated kiss.

#destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #soulmates au #businessman Castiel #mechanic Dean #profoundnet #rae writes fic #i post something new every Sunday #this one kind of got away from me #but hopefully in a good way #deancas #deancas fanfic

[untaemedqueen]

The Price Of Love (M)

Idol!Taehyung x Ex-Girlfriend!Reader

WordCount: 8.1k

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Exes To Lovers!AU

Warnings: Marking, Cunnilingus, Body Worship, Belly Worship, Fingering, Praise, Squirting, Fellatio, Degradation (Slut), Big Dick!Taehyung, Slight Dom!Taehyung, Face Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Pregnant Sex, Crying During Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Doggy Style, Spanking, Possessive!Taehyung, Cream Pie

A/N: I’ve had this in the WIPs for a few weeks and I’ve slowly but surely added to it until I got it to where I liked it. @xjoonchildx​, @ladyartemesia​ and @ppersonna​ heard all my bitching and moaning about it giving me a headache because I wanted it to feel right and real. So thanks to the forever squad for listening to my bitching! Enjoy!

"We can't keep doing this." 

Those five words had stuck the fear of God into your boyfriend's heart as he sits across the hotel room with a glass of wine in hand. His hand falters, red wine sloshing around the glass before he widens his eyes at you.

"Excuse me? What?" He asks feebly as you avert your eyes from his handsome face. 

"This. Us. We can't keep doing this like it'll work out." You say, bile rising in your throat at the words you choke out.

He opens his mouth in shock before setting down his wine glass. "No. No! I don't understand! We're fine!" He mumbles to himself before standing up.

You shy away from his touch as he crosses the bedroom to you. Your eyes are trained on the floor as you hear him whimper. His large hand falls to your thigh and you furrow your eyebrows before standing. 

"Is it because of me spending time on the Weverse app or… I've been playing too many games with fans because I can-"

Your eyes flit to his, a cold stare shot at him cutting him off. "Kim Taehyung, I would never ask you to stop interacting with your fans. Are you kidding me?" You bark out at him before scoffing and grabbing your bag.

"Y/N. Please. There must be something I can do to make you stay. We've been together for two years… Tell me, I'll fix it." His voice is wrought with agony and you tense up hearing a sob rip through his throat.

"There's nothing to fix. We're done. I'm sorry." You tell him before grabbing your toiletries from the bathroom. You hear him shuffling behind you, sobbing and destroyed. You can't seem to turn around before glancing at him through the mirror. You've broken the most handsome man in the entire universe. 

"I'll do anything. I'll-I'll leave tour more and fly to see you. Y/N please. We can get married like we've always talked about. Anything-I'll-" You zipper up your bag before closing your eyes. You want to cry, scream, kiss him- anything and everything. But, you did this and you have to go through with it. There's nothing worse than this. And, you still have to do it. "Bye, Tae."

"Taehyung?" His name snaps him out of his memory. His fingers run through his hair before putting his temple to the van door. 

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm good." He whispers to his best friend before looking out the dark tinted window as the van drives towards their apartments. 

"You've been thinking about her lately." Jimin whispers to him before folding his arms. Jimin always loved you, you were so dear to him and he could never truly understand why you left Taehyung in that way. You ruined him. You created a shell of a man. But, you must have had your reasons. You didn't do things carelessly.

"I wonder how she is." Taehyung whispers before closing his eyes. He can still see the way you laughed, how you would dance around the kitchen making food. How your bare feet would slide across the heated tiled floor. His hand drifts over his heart before putting on his sunglasses. "You should call her." Jimin whispers quietly before pressing his plush lips into a straight line.

"Why? She wants nothing to do with me." He whispers before looking out the window as people go about their business. 

Seoul was so fast moving and Taehyung was slowly becoming a snail. The van stops at a light and he sighs as he watches the people go to and fro. It's a mere second that he catches sight of the black wrap dress he bought you. His hands press up against the window as he jumps out of his seat. 

It was you, there was no mistaking it. Or else, he's gone crazy. Your hair was its natural color again, not dyed like six months ago. You were walking with the tide of people, hand on your stomach. Taehyung gasps loudly before banging on the car window. You're pregnant?!

"Chim! Look! It's Y/N! She-She's-" Jimin jumps over his shoulder bag before looking where Taehyung is pointing.

"Where?!" He asks loudly as Taehyung turns his head towards his best friend with a smile. 

"There! At the corner!" Turning his head back, his shoulders slouch as his eyes frantically look for you.

"Tae...I don't see her." Jimin whispers before sitting back down in his seat.

"She was there! I saw her! She was…" His voice trails off before putting his hands over his face. You were pregnant.

His apartment was cold. You used to put on the heating system for him when you knew he was coming home. You used to have dinner made with a big smile on your face. He would lather you in kisses, hug you so tightly like you would disintegrate to dust if he let you go. Throwing his bag to the floor, he mindlessly pads across the cold floor before laying down on the couch. 

"I'm going crazy." He whispers before sobbing loudly. His wavy black hair falls into his eyes as he presses his face into the couch cushion.

The couch dips and paws climb up his body before his arms encircle his dog. 

"Tan. I'm going crazy. I saw mommy today." He mumbles to his dog as he licks his tear streaked cheeks. With a breathless sigh he wipes at his running nose with the back of his hand before closing his eyes.

"I saw her. I swear to God. She looked...beautiful." He whispers as his jaw goes slack. Yeontan lays on his chest, furry face burying into his neck as he stomps his foot on the couch.

"I know what I saw. She's pregnant." He mumbles before pulling out his phone. Jimin told him to delete your number a hundred times over and you were still there. 

'My Love'

Taunting him to shame. He ignores his innermost screaming. His mind begging him not to crack open this closet filled with skeletons but he presses the call button anyway. 

His palms begin to sweat. Heart beating voraciously loud in his ears as he stares up at the ceiling. It begins to beat harder when he hears you.

"Hello?"

"You aren't serious! You can't leave!" Taehyung begs as he chases you down the hotel corridor. He grabs your arm as you call for the elevator. You turn to him, eyes glassy with tears as you look up at him.

His nose was pink, cheeks streaked with tears of agony as he holds your shoulders. "Please. I love you. Don't leave me." He whispers, voice cracking as he begins to sob again. 

"Don't make this hard. You know how I feel about you too." You whisper before closing your eyes and begging for the elevator to hurry the fuck up.

"If you love me then don't go. Stay. I'll do anything. Please, baby. Please." His voice trails off as he rubs his thumb over your jaw line. 

"It'll be better off this way. I'm a burden and I won't have you ruining your career." You tell him before swallowing thickly. The elevator bell dings and you sigh before pulling away from him harshly. 

"Y/N." Pleading is the only way to describe his voice and you sniff gently before getting on to the elevator.

"I love you, Tae. I'm sorry." You whisper before pressing the ground floor and looking away as the doors close.

"I saw you." Taehyung's voice comes out gruffer than he means to. But, goddamn does your voice fill him with emotion.

"What?!" You say loudly and Taehyung swears he can hear glass break on your end of the phone call.

"I saw you today. When we were driving back from the airport. In that black dress." He puts his hand on his forehead before pressing his lips into a straight line.

"I thought you were in Japan." You whisper and he scoffs loudly.

"We came back a day early." He mumbles before setting Yeontan on the floor as he stands up.

"Oh, Tae. I'm so sorry but I think you're confused or-"

"Don't do that! Don't you dare do that to me! Don't make me seem like I'm fucking crazy like all the other guys do! I SAW YOU! And you're- you were- are…" He can't finish his sentence as he walks towards the large windows of his apartment. 

He stares down at the Seoul traffic as you stammer on syllables. "I should-"

"Should go? No. Don't you do this to me, Y/N!" He yells as he presses his index finger to the spotless glass. 

"I'm coming over." You say before hanging up the phone. He looks down at his phone before putting his forehead to the window.

"Oh Christ." He whispers shakily before putting his hand over his mouth.

It takes you 30 minutes to get to his apartment. 30 minutes for Taehyung to go back and forth in his living room with Yeontan on his tail. 

One arm tucked under the other as his hand presses to his mouth. He's rehearsed what he is going to say to you. He's going to look you in the eye and tell you how fucked up you made him. How absolutely soulless he's been without you. A global star turned into a mere shell because of you. Nothing has been the same. Food doesn't taste the same. And yet…

The doorbell rings and he jumps out of his skin before jogging over to the mirror. He fixes his hair, brushes his thumb over some stray eyeliner before puffing out his cheeks. 

What was he going to say again? You ring the doorbell again as Yeontan scurries over to the door. 

"Okay. You can do this...Just… Tell her." He whispers, and with a shaking hand he grips the door handle. 

Swinging the door open, you collectively gasp at one another. Taehyung's mouth opens before blinking. 

"Hi." You whisper to him as he falters backwards.

"I knew it." He mumbles before turning away from you and walking towards the couch on shaky legs. You close the door behind you before folding your arms, almost as if it's a defense mechanism. 

Taehyung turns his head to you before giving an incredulous scoff. 

"I had s-so many things I wanted to say to you." He says before his body slams onto the couch. 

You follow after him, but not before picking up Yeontan as he jumps on your leg excited. He hasn't seen you in so long and he can't help but yap happily as you kiss the top of his head. Taehyung plants his elbows on his knees as he buries his face into his hands. 

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." He whispers before leaning back and letting his head loll onto the lip of the couch. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly before watching you trudge in front of him. He lets out a disbelieving laugh before looking back up at the ceiling.

"Y/N. What the fuck!" He yells before closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whisper as Yeontan shifts in your arms. He chuckles to himself before slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"You're sorry? Oh. Good. Sorry." He says before sitting up quickly. You jump slightly before clearing your throat. 

"I thought it would be best if I left so you didn't have to deal with-" He holds his hand up silencing you. 

"How dare you?" He whispers before his eyes meet yours. He wants to cry, to break something. But, he can't get over how beautiful you look. 

"Y/N. How dare you do this to me." He mumbles before watching Yeontan lick your cheek. 

You step closer to him and he spreads his legs like it was normal. Like you hadn't left six months ago. Stepping inside of them, he reaches out to you before leaning forward.

"How dare you hide this from me. Like I wouldn't fight tooth and nail for you and-" He presses his hand to your growing stomach before pulling away as if he has been burnt. 

You recoil from him before turning around. You put your hand over your mouth before shaking your head.

"This was a bad idea." You mumble before setting Yeontan down on the floor. Taehyung watches you press your hand to your back before slowly standing upright. He takes a sharp inhale through his nose before jumping over the couch. 

"Don't you take my child away from me." He says quickly as he presses his back against the front door.

You whimper before closing your eyes. "You left me, knowing you were pregnant with my child?" He asks quietly, his voice creeping through the large living room as he stares at your closed eyes.

"Yes." You whisper back and he feels as if he's been shot through the heart.

"Why? Y/N how could you fucking do this to me? I loved you...I love you." His hand cups your face and it's almost frightening how comfortable it is. How at peace you feel by his touch.

"Because you're busy and you don't have time for a child or...or love." You say as his hand snakes from your cheek to the back of your neck pulling you closer to him.

"Don't you dare say what I am and what I'm not. If you gave me the choice I would have stuck by your side through everything. Your morning sickness, your tiredness, your… whatever other things pregnant people do." He finishes off in a mumble that makes a giggle break free from you as you open your eyes.

"I was scared." You tell him and he can only scoff at your words.

"You were scared...I love you, Y/N. What's there to be scared of when we're together?" He asks as his thumb brushes over your collarbone.

"Oh I don't know, your billion managers, the boys, ARMY. I could go on." You tell him as he pulls you closer. Your stomach presses against his body and he shudders at the feeling. 

"Jesus Christ." He swallows thickly before looking down at the obstruction between the both of you.

"Do you love me? Still?" He asks and your eyes look up at his as his mocha irises gleam with uncertain emotion. 

"Yes. I still love you." You say before pointing at your stomach. He snorts gently, a breathy noise his nose before grabbing your hand. 

It's almost frightening how calming you are to him. He should be pissed- furious even. But you, here in front of him like this is like a dream.

He wants the comfort of holding you in his arms back. He wants to be able to lay in bed with you on off days for hours, playing with your fingers and singing mindlessly with you.

He just wants you back in his reality. 

He wants you back in his bed.

"Come lay down with me. It's late." He says and you stay rooted in the spot as he pulls you.

"This isn't the same Tae. We aren't the same." You tell him sternly. To which he rolls his eyes before tugging you harder. 

You whine his name gently and if you didn't have his child six months and growing in your stomach, it would be like nothing has changed. The whirlwind of emotions comes to a halt inside of him as he intertwines your fingers with yours as you walk down his long hallway. 

There are so many questions he has but he didn't know if he needed the answers, to be honest. Just thinking of all the things you'd been through alone because you were trying to save him in some fucked up way sets him in a weird sort of comfort. 

He lays down before rubbing the spot next to him. "You're on my side of the bed." You tell him and he smirks before rolling over.

"I thought you'd forgotten." He says before putting his hand under his cheek. You sit down gingerly and he moves instantaneously to help you lay back like an instinct. 

"I'm okay. Don't worry. I can even open jars by myself." You say giving a fake gasp.

Tae chuckles before looking at your stomach as he lays his head in the pillow. "Having my baby is giving you super strength? You can open a jar now? Color me impressed." You laugh rolling your eyes before putting your hand on your stomach.

He sits up before taking a deep breath. "You fucked up, you realize that don't you? You took away the chance of me watching my child grow all these months." 

You sigh, the guilt eating away at you as you hold up two fingers. He raises an eyebrow before kissing the back of your hand.

"Two? Two what?" He asks as he leans closer to you. His lips drift over the skin of your arm and his eyes flutter shut at the familiar softness.

"Twins." You mumble. 

His lips stop and his eyes snap open. It begins then. A voraciously nervous laugh bubbles forth from him. "I cannot believe this." He says through laughter before burying his face into the pillow. 

You swallow nervously as he sighs loudly. "You need to promise me you aren't going anywhere again. You'll stay. We'll get married like we always wanted to and...and we'll be a family."

You take a sharp breath through your teeth as he looks at you. You nod before intertwining your fingers, "I promise." You whisper as he leans in.

"Good. I've missed you so much that I felt my world was crashing down." Taehyung mutters out before pressing his forehead to yours.

"Can I touch?" He asks before looking down at your stomach. 

"Of course you can." You reply, almost breathlessly.

He takes a sharp breath before looking at your belly. 

"Oh Jesus." He whispers before flexing his hands and fingers. His hands gently lower themselves and you watch as his eyes become glassy. 

He presses his hands to your stomach before looking down. He gives a wry laugh as tears begin to stream down his cheeks. "Wow! I mean...Wow! That's my… These are my babies." He whispers before closing his eyes.

You giggle gently as you wipe at your eyes as tears trail out of the corners and down your cheeks. 

"I have to make up for so much lost time...I-" A kick comes from your stomach and you flinch gingerly with a chuckle as it twinges your rib. He gasps gently, putting a hand to your face to make sure you're alright before putting his cheek to your stomach.

"Hi. I'm your dad. Mommy's been taking care of you because she was afraid but there's no need to be frightened. I'm here now. Daddy's here." He whispers to your stomach before lifting up your shirt. 

"Fuck." He curses as he puts his forehead to your belly. You giggle before running your fingers through his hair. You feel the guilt setting into your bones, but it comes to a heady stop at his words.

"You're huge." His voice is muffled into your skin and you gasp loudly before slapping his shoulder.

"Rude! You can say it nicer!" You chide him, making him laugh.

"You're beautiful. As always." He whispers before kissing your stomach. His lips, so warm and soft it has your eyebrows furrowing together as he crawls up the bed to lay beside you.

"I really missed you. My heart ached for you. I felt so hopeless without you." He kisses your forehead before sighing. You run your hand over his cheek before turning on your side.

"Easy. Do you need like, a pillow or like...a warm water bottle?" You nod gently and he takes the pillow from underneath his head before propping it underneath your side.

"Also this isn't England back when King Henry was alive. Who needs warm water bottles?" You quip back with a laugh.

"I need to learn what pregnant women need and want. And I have to buy all different stuff for our babies and-" You smile widely as you put your finger on his lips. 

"Do you want to know their gender?" You ask him as you run your fingers through his hair. 

"Yes! Please!" He begs as he runs his hand over your engorged skin.

"Twin girls." He chuckles to himself before sniffling. Squeezing his eyes tightly he pulls your head to his chest, letting your belly rest on his body. 

"Wow. Three to one, huh?" 

"Eh. Well more like three to seven." You tell him and he laughs loudly before nodding. "The guys are going to get so excited. Especially Jimin." 

Laying in bed with you is something Taehyung had only dreamed about the past six months. And now, here he was. 

His thumb caresses your bottom lip as you speak and exhaustion isn't a word in his vocabulary as you talk about the past six months.

"Have you been with anyone else?" Taehyung asks you and you give him an incredulous look before pointing at your stomach.

"I haven't even been with myself." You murmur out making him chuckle. His big box smile graces his face before kissing your lips gently.

"You? Have you?" You ask him as you run your fingers down his bare chest. He shivers at the contact before nodding slightly.

"Yes. The company paid a woman to...to try to get rid of my terrible thoughts. Tried to get rid of my loneliness but it couldn't be helped… I moaned your name and only yours. She felt...disgusting. Not like you at all." He whispers as his eyes look past you as if he's reliving a disturbing memory. You hum to him before kissing the birth mark on his nose.

"At least you didn't forget about me." 

"Never. I'd never forget." He tells you as he runs his hands up your stomach. With a groan you lay on your back before smiling gently at him. His eyes glance over your body before licking his lips.

You were simply glowing with his children within you. And, he wouldn't have had any sexual intentions if your nipples weren't going stiff and peaking out beneath your lacy bra and thin tank top.

"You haven't even touched yourself, you say?" He asks gently as he sits up. You hum to him and he runs his finger over your bare stomach. 

"You look beautiful. I told you, you would be divine with my children inside of you. Didn't I?" You give a snort as he runs his hands over your clothed thighs.

"Can I help you? Y'know cum?" He asks, tongue sliding over his bottom lip before smirking at you. It's the way his big eyes drink you in that you find your thighs unconsciously pressing together. 

You hadn't thought about the need for relief in all these months, if you're being honest. You were too busy being nervous and riddled with grief.

But here now. As Taehyung's hands run over your clothed thighs, you feel comfortable. You feel at ease. And, the need for relief is coming back in waves so large they could capsize a boat.

Crawling over you, he minds your stomach before bending down and kissing your lips. The kiss is filled with heated passion, the both of you pouring out your worries and the way you've missed each other for six months.

Your fingers intertwined into his soft locks as he holds himself up from your body. 

The tip of his tongue glides over your bottom lip and like an instinct your mouth opens for him. 

He groans into your mouth, a needy carnal noise of please, as his smooth wet muscle glides over yours. Tugging on his hair harder, he whines before pulling away from you.

His arms get weak and his stomach presses into yours before pulling away. The sound of his gentle laugh gets your stomach doing somersaults inside of you.

"Like trying to fuck during an obstacle course." He mumbles, earning a laugh from you. 

He taps your arms as he licks his lips and you sit up long enough for your tank top to be discarded to the floor.

"Fuck." He lowly curses as his thighs straddle yours.

He takes his time kissing over your peony scented skin, the scent taking him back years and he can't help the ball that begins to form in his throat. He could cry out, screaming seven ways to hell as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. But instead, he will enjoy this moment. He has to. You're his again.

His lips pluck at the delicate skin of your neck, leaving small patches of pink and reds in his wake. 

His hands find your breasts, squeezing them gently. He adores lace on you and now, with the added cup sizes he could quite literally say that he's in heaven. 

His hand snakes around your back before unclipping your bra with the snap of his index finger and his thumb. You hum pleased at the skill you taught him and he chuckles before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"Look at you." He murmurs reverently as you lay back down before him.

"Be gentle." You whisper to him and he nods understanding. 

His head bows down, his black hair falling into his eyes as his lips wrap around your dark areola.

Small keens and mewls leave your lips as his hands press harder against your thighs, kneading the flesh with the tips of his fingers.

"Tae." You whine out as he locks your legs in place, squeezing his knees to keep them shut beneath him.

It's a dizzying kind of elated emotion you feel. Your hands drift over his clothed shoulders and you give an almost childish whine as you tug at the cloth. 

His mocha irises meet yours before pulling away and taking off his shirt. His lips are back onto your breast in a matter of seconds. 

Your fingernails leave small red lines over his back as he flicks at your nipple with the tip of his tongue. 

One of his hands presses to the distended side of your belly, almost as if to make sure how big you are so he doesn't hurt you.

"I fucking missed you." He mumbles as he switches his attention to your free breast. 

You can feel your arousal soaking your panties. It's been so long since you've been given this beautiful attention.

With a whimper, you tug at his hair. 

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth before narrowing his eyes at you.

"Have you forgotten how to behave, baby girl? You've forgotten who you belong to?" Taehyung asks.

The authority in his voice makes you shiver. Biting your bottom lip, you shake your head releasing his hair from your grasp.

"I wanted to be gentle with you, seeing as how you've been keeping my little girls so safe inside of you but I think you want to be punished." His voice is filled with this natural cockiness that has your chest constricting with elation.

His hands hook into the sides of your sweatpants and you meet his eyes as he presses open mouthed kisses to your stomach. 

Your gentle gasps and whimpers have his hard cock twitching and pressing into the fabric of his loose grey pants.

"I-I haven't shaved or gotten waxed…" Your voice becomes weak towards the end of your sentence and he clicks his teeth in reply.

"When have I ever cared about that? Ever?" He asks seriously. His lips peck yours before tugging down your pants.

He finds himself smirking at the sight. Small strands of arousal break and cling to your sodden lips as he throws your clothes behind him.

He hums to himself as he spreads your legs. This was akin to home for him. He was so sincerely excited to have you back but, being between your legs it's like you never left.

"You can't blow on it." You tell him quickly as his body bows down.

He picks his head up above your belly before winking at you and nodding.

His hands wrap around your thighs, keeping them locked in their open place. His thumbs drift over the bottom of your belly as he watches your cunt clutch around nothingness.

You were so desperately horny now, just the hot ragged breaths you feel from him have your clit aching with need.

You couldn't see him above your stomach, which added this mysterious intrigue to what he was going to do next.

“Shit.” He whispers and you find your heart skipping a beat before his lips encircle your clit. 

He devours you as if he’s been starved of you- because he has.

He adores your moans as they crescendo in the quiet room. 

You taste sweeter than before but it’s something so familiar that it drives him insane. He finds himself moaning against you, clutching harder onto your thighs as you writhe beneath him at the sheer pleasure.

His finger prods at your entrance as he continues to lavish upon you. You can feel this invisible band inside of you tightening so quickly, it’s been so long since you’ve felt him adore you in this way. 

Entering his finger inside of you, he pulls away just to watch your eyebrows furrow from the amazing feeling.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” He whispers as he kisses the skin of your stomach. 

His long finger curls inside of you, expertly knowing where the soft patch of nerves is that will help you become undone beneath him. 

“Tae!” You whine as your hips lift off of the bed. 

He loves that. The way you moan his name in your heated ecstasy. He wants more of it, to hear you blubber and call his name out to the heavens. 

Sliding another finger in, his lips leave your stomach before encircling your clit once more. 

Your hands grip at the sheets beside you, white knuckling them completely. 

Your heartbeat is in your ears as you grind your needy cunt to his face. 

“Good girl.” He praises you as your eyes flutter closed.

You can feel the pleasure coming to a head as he rears back before spitting on your soaked lips. 

Shivering at the feeling, your head lolls back as you lose yourself.

He can feel your pussy throbbing and pulsing around his fingers. He goads you on with quick licks with the tip of his tongue. 

His name falls like a prayer from your lips before gasping. White spots begin to dot the inside of your eyelids and you can barely hold on to your sanity.

“Cum for me, baby girl.” He whispers against you.

Curling his fingers fast inside of you, the breath is pulled from your lungs as you let out a low whine.

You orgasm with a muddled mind, moaning his name so loudly he can practically feel it reverberating through his body. Your cum squirts onto his hand as your back bows off of the bed.

Ears ringing with white noise, you can barely hear his praises as his hand roams over your stomach. 

“God, you’re so perfect.” He says as he pulls out of you slowly. 

He waits patiently as you come down from your high, kissing at your hardened nipples. 

You feel almost drunk and sluggish off of his pleasure.

Opening your eyes, you’re met with the handsome man's smirk. 

“It’s been too long since you’ve squirted on me.” He whispers earning a laugh from you as he pulls down his grey pants. 

For you, it’s been too long since you’ve seen his impressive length. It’s award worthy, seriously. You can feel your mouth watering as you take his hardened length into your sights. The soft rose veins that pepper it in its entirety and the mushroom tip that’s reddened with need, call out to you as you sit up.

He hums nervously as he sits up on his knees. 

“I don’t know, baby. Can you?” He asks as you spread your legs to accommodate your stomach. 

You wrinkle your nose at his sweetness as he runs his hand over your cheek.

“I’ll be fine.” You say as you inch your way closer to him.

“I don’t know. I mean, you might be uncomf-” His concern is cut off with a sharp groan as your hand wraps around the long length of his cock. 

He whimpers as his bottom lip tucks between his teeth. Your free hand finds its way beneath your stomach as your head bows down. 

His hand scrambles to grab the headboard of his bed as you kiss over his shaft. 

“Agh, fuck.” He mutters as his eyes close.

Your lips are so warm and soft against him, precum begins to pool at his slit before lazily traipsing down. You lick up the precum, moaning at the distant yet familiar taste. 

He takes a sharp breath through his teeth as your tongue swirls over the tip. 

“Fuck, just like that baby girl.” He curses as his free hand combs through your hair. 

He can remember all the times you’ve become sloppy on his cock. He adored seeing your spit and his precum streaming down your chin and neck, his cock twitches and throbs in your mouth at the memory. 

He grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail before lolling his head back as your mouth sheathes his cock.

Whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth, you stroke as you fuck his cock into your mouth.

“Yeah, fuck. You like that, don’t you? Like my cock in your slut mouth.” He groans out.

Your eyes stare at his small abs as they contort and press to his taut skin. His golden skin shines in the moonlight as a sheen of sweat envelops him. 

Working your mouth faster on him, you can’t help but feel a new wave of arousal sweep through you as he moans your name. 

His hips thrust toward your mouth as he lets your hair go. His hand clutches to the back of your head as he looks down at you.

“Open up, baby girl. Swallow my cock.” He commands and you whimper in reply.

Swallowing around him, he moans loudly as your nose nestles to his pubic bone.

“Jesus.” He whines as he pulls your head down faster on him.

Your gag reflex springs into action as he begins to fuck your throat. Tears make your eyes glassy before rolling down your cheeks. 

Spit and precum stream down your chin as his eyes stay locked on yours.

“You’re so fucking messy. Look at you, shit.” He moans through clenched teeth as he holds you down on his cock.

You moan at his words, your clit rubbing against his bedsheets at his brutal actions. 

Letting go of the headboard of his bed, his hand lands on your stomach as he holds you close to him.

His long, thick cock begins to thicken and throb as you run your tongue over his length with every thrust.

“Fuck! Y/N! Such a little slut! Your mouth feels so good on my cock. Taking it so well.” He whines out as you grip on to his thighs.

You can tell he’s close by the way he whimpers and drives the head of his cock deeper into your throat.

“Swallow my cum and show me how fucking sorry you are that you took my girls away from me.” He seathes out through his teeth as his eyes squeeze shut.

His face painted in pure bliss is something you could never get out of your head and seeing it above you now is just heaven on Earth.

He whimpers your name over and over, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he presses your head down deeper on his cock. 

“Yes! Fuck!” He whines as his ropes of cum meet your throat.

You swallow around him, relishing in the warm, salty taste. His body shakes through the pleasure, thighs twitching rapidly. 

He lets out a long groan, the sound going straight to your core as he pulls out of your mouth slowly.

Tapping his index finger to your cheek, you open your mouth for him as he angles your chin up to see inside your mouth, “Good girl, baby.” He praises you before kissing your forehead. 

He stands off of the bed with shaky legs before sighing happily. 

You lay back down as his hands hook behind your knees. You giggle as he pulls your body down to the edge of the bed. He kisses over your stomach as your feet find their place on the floor. 

He stands up tall before you as he spreads your legs.

“You see how horny I am for you?” He asks playfully as his cock still stands to attention. 

His hands palm at your breasts, squeezing and rolling them gently. He runs his cock through your sodden lips, coating the underside of his cock in your arousal.

“Your pussy feels so warm.” He murmurs out in wonder before prodding at your entrance.

You bite your bottom lip in anticipation. Running his hands over your sides, he enters his cock into you slowly. 

Both of your mouths drop open in tandem at the amazing feeling. 

“Fuck.” You whine as his head lolls back. 

He buries himself to the hilt before stilling inside of you, letting you get adjusted to his large length. 

“You look so beautiful underneath me.” He says. Your heart flutters at his words, cunt clutching around his length. 

He smiles down at you. The smile holding all these elated emotions he could never put into words. He was so amazed to even be here with you again.

Your body was soaked in the white moonlight as it shines through the large bay windows of his bedroom. He has never seen anything more beautiful. 

“You’re never leaving again. Do you understand me?” He asks seriously as he pulls out of you slowly.

“Yes.” You reply earnestly.

He snaps his hips back into you, the bulbous head of his cock dragging against your plush walls. Your hands grip at the edge of the bed as you moan his name loudly. 

He sets a relentless pace as his hands caress your stomach. 

“Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good. So tight and wet for me.” He groans. 

“Tae!” You whimper as your fingers pinch and roll your nipples between your fingertips.

All of his thrusts held a deeper meaning and he could practically cry out of happiness to be here with you in this very minute. 

Tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, his hands grip harder at your stomach as he snaps his hips harder against you.

“You are mine, forever.” Each word is punctuated with a harsh thrust that has your head swimming in white-hot pleasure.

His hand reaches the apex of your thighs, he rubs furious circles on your clit as your back bows off of the bed.

Your legs spread wider for him as he moans your name. 

You were like putty in his hands, becoming boneless and sinking into his large bed as he fucks you so well. 

He could feel your pussy begin to throb and pulse around him, begging for release around him.

He moans pleased at how easy it is to please you, “Cum on my cock, baby. I feel it. Shit.” He moans.

With just a few more thrusts, you were cumming on his cock. You were blubbering and moaning for him with gentle whines as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

“Christ! You got so tight!” He says before pulling out of you. 

Whimpering at the loss, your eyes find his as he gives a breathless smile. 

He twirls his finger and you understand what he wants immediately. He helps you turn over, grabbing a pillow for you and putting it underneath your stomach. 

“You okay?” He asks as he positions himself at your entrance once more. 

“Yeah.” You whisper.

His lips kiss over your back as he thrusts himself back inside you. 

Your voice was hoarse and dry from the moans and pleasure you’ve been receiving but you can’t help but want more as his hands grip at your hips. 

He pulls you back fervently on his cock as he kisses over your shoulder. 

It’s the familiar scent of peony that makes him feel home. It drives him closer to the edge as he holds you so close to him.

Standing back up, he feels his throat tightening as the globes of your ass jiggle with each thrust. 

“Goddamn.” He moans before spanking you hard. 

You gasp loudly, burying your face into the sheets as your skin smarts from his slap. 

He groans at the noise you make before slapping your ass again.

“You look so fucking good with a red ass.” He moans out before slapping your other cheek. 

You can feel your arousal dripping down his balls and onto your thighs below. It’s almost animalistic how he drives himself inside of you.

“Cum for me one more time.” He says as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck. 

Your moans and loud whimpers earn praise from him as he snakes his arm around your stomach and to the apex of your thighs. 

“Your clit is so fucking swollen.” He mumbles as he begins to rub circles.

“Taehy-ung!” You cry out as your body begins to shake from the over-stimulation.

“Take it like the good girl you are. C’mon.” He mumbles as he presses his chest to your back. 

“I-I can’t!” You whine but your body betrays you as your legs spread wider for him, bucking back against him with the little strength you have left.

“Yes, you can. Your pregnant cunt is wetting my cock so nicely, baby girl. You’re dying to cum again on my big cock.” He mumbles in your ear. 

His index finger and thumb pinch your clit gently and you can feel tears welling up in your eyes as he grips at your hip harder.

You can hear his ragged breaths in your ear, setting your nerve ending aflame.

“You’re going to cum on my cock again like a good girl. Show me how much your slut cunt missed me.” He murmurs before kissing the shell of your ear. 

The invisible band begins to tighten within you again for the third time and your eyes squeeze shut at the feeling. 

“Your pregnant pussy is dripping all over my cock, begging to put another load into your needy cunt. You love my cock, don’t you?” He seethes as he fucks you quicker.

“Y-Yes!” You whine as he pinches your clit again. 

“That’s right. You missed my cock inside your pretty little pussy.” He lifts himself off of your back and the sound of skin slapping skin resounds through the stagnant air. 

“God!” He groans out and you can feel his cock thickening inside of you.

“Tae! Fuck, I’m-I’m cumming!” 

“That’s a good girl. Cum for me.” He moans.

Your thighs quake and your face buries into the sheets as you orgasm for the third time. With muffled ears you can hear him cursing behind you, bucking into you with all of his strength as he drives himself to his release.

“I love you so fucking much. Tell me who this pregnant pussy belongs to.” He says as he grips onto your hips.

“You, only you.” You whimper out, voice riddled with exhaustion. 

“That’s right.” 

He groans loudly as he reaches his end, “God, I’m cumming baby! Fuck!” 

Ropes of cum lather the walls of your pussy as his head lolls back. Weakly you look behind you as you watch him bask in the glory. He was so handsome and so perfect. How could you ever have left him?

You can see a few tears fall from his eyes as he lifts his head back up and he wipes them away quickly before pulling out of you. He hums to himself as your pussy begins to cream with his cum. 

He helps you lay back down and you find your eyes becoming heavy with exhaustion. 

“I love you.” He whispers as he fixes the pillow beneath your head.

“I love you too.” You whisper as your eyes become lidded.

Wiping his cock with his briefs, he looks you over before sighing loudly. 

“Don’t...Don’t leave me again. Please.” He begs your sleeping form before laying down beside you. 

He lays his head on your stomach before looking out the window as the moon shines brightly into the room. Pressing his lips to your distended skin, his eyes squeeze shut. 

His forehead presses to your stomach as he sighs. Now that he has you back, you can’t leave again. You make him feel whole, you make him complete.

He isn’t Kim Taehyung without you, and he hopes you know that.

It took him a long time to fall asleep last night. 

He stayed up just looking at you, putting his hand on his children. He cried a few times too. He was so happy, so confused, so completely in love with you.

Waking up this morning, he groans as his hand reaches for your belly only to be met with cold sheets. 

His eyebrows furrow before he’s jumping up in bed.

“Babe?! Y/N?!” He calls loudly as his neck cranes to look into the en suite bathroom. 

It was dark and he found this overwhelming darkness creeping into his heart. 

“Babe!” He yells as he jumps out of bed. 

His throat constricts and he feels lightheaded as he throws on his pajama pants. 

“Y/N!” He screams at the top of his lungs as he rushes out of the bedroom and down the hallway. 

His eyes fill with tears and his hand clutches at his heart.

“No!” He yells as he skids into the empty living room. 

“Fuck!” He bawls before leaning against the kitchen island. He buries his face into his hands as he sobs loudly.

“No.” He cries feebly. His legs feel weak and he has to will himself to stand up.

The front door opens with laughs and Taehyung’s head springs up as you enter with Jimin and Jeongguk behind you.

The room falls silent as he shoves off of the island counter and barrels towards you.

He disregards his closest friends as he pulls you into a hug. You hug him back, as his body shakes in your arms.

“Hey.” You whisper concerned as he buries his face into your hair.

“Where’d you go? I was…” He trails off as he sobs quietly.

“I went to get breakfast. You didn’t have anything in the apartment because you went on tour. I ran into Chim and Gukkie in the lobby.” You say as you pull away.

His hand caresses your cheek as you wipe his tears from his face.

“I thought you left...left me.” He hiccups before pulling you back to his chest. You close your eyes as you hold him as tightly as you can.

“I’m not going anywhere Tae.” You whisper as he looks over wearily at his two friends. 

Their eyes show sorrow for him and he closes his eyes tightly before relishing in your hug. 

You stayed like this for a few minutes until his heart had calmed down. Pulling away, his hand lands on your belly before kissing your temple.

“I’m sorry. I should have left a note.” You say as he brushes some hair behind your ear. 

He swallows nervously before nodding. 

“She remembers what you like to eat too!” Guk says holding up the take away bag, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Taehyung gives him a small smile before pulling you over to the dining room table. 

Sitting down, you put the food out onto the table before kissing your boyfriend's cheek. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” You tell him as he intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand. 

He nods before looking at you. It would take time to get back to normal again, but there was no place he’d rather be than to be here with you. 

“That’s the price of love though, isn’t it?” Jimin asks as he opens up his rice.

The both of you look at him as he begins to smile.

“The price of love?” Your boyfriend asks as he wraps his arm around your waist.

Chim nods with a hum, “You need to lose someone to remind you how much you missed them. That’s the price of love.” 

Tae thinks on it for a second before rubbing your belly. 

“I guess you’re right, just don’t make me pay the price again.” He tells you sternly, earning a smile from you as you cuddle into his side. 

He smirks gently before kissing your forehead. 

“I’ve paid my price time and time again.” He mumbles before grabbing his breakfast.

#taehyung #exes to lovers #ficswithluv #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #btscreatorscorner #bts taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #the price of love

[highfaelucien]

for elucien: maybe some soft content of lucien and elain cooking together

send me ship fic prompts!

Elain looked up as she heard a small tap at the door of the kitchen. She glanced towards Nuala and Cerridwen, both of whom remained relaxed, though she couldn't think who would be knocking.

Anyone who typically stayed here, Feyre and Rhys and their Inner Circle, none of them would have knocked. They would just have barged in, on a varying spectrum of politeness.

Azriel was at one end, and Cassian was on the other, which felt an appropriate way of measuring the two brothers' personalities.

"Come in!" she called, looking up from her flour dusted work table.

A golden glimmer caught her eye as one mechanical eye and one of glimmering red peered owlishly around the doorway.

"Lady Elain," he said with that courtly grace, giving her as refined a bow as any she'd ever seen, "Your sister told me that I could find you here. May I approach?"

"Oh," Elain said, a little flustered, feeling her cheeks go warm for reasons entirely unrelated to the heating oven behind her, "Oh, yes, of course, my lord-" she catches herself, remembering that he's not a lord, she corrects, "Lucien."

He inclined his head slightly and approached, carrying a small wicker basket in front of him, which he set gently on the worktop in front of her.

"Your sister told me that you liked to bake down her most days," he said, watching her almost warily, as though he expected her to snap at him for merely being here, "So I brought you a gift."

"A gift?" she repeated, blinking down at the basket.

"It won't bite," he said, with a small smile, "You can open it."

Tentatively, she slid the lid open and peered inside. At once, a tart, wonderful smell of fresh, crisp apples, unlike any she'd ever experienced, emerged from the basket.

She gave a little squeal of delight and took one from the basket, holding it in her hand. It was larger than any she'd ever seen, gleaming as brightly red as a forge. And the smell, even unpeeled, she had never smelled anything so mouthwatering or delicious.

Lucien smiled a little at her reaction to them and answered the question that had been dancing on the tip of her tongue, "They're from the Autumn Court."

There was a flicker in his eyes he couldn't quite read, a sadness, deep and haunted. And she felt it. She felt it, a deep pang in her own chest, twin and echo to what she saw in him. She wasn't sure if he was aware of that, as he kept talking, hands clasped behind his back, bouncing slightly on his toes.

"My mother sent it to me," he told her, and there was a tightness to his voice. She knew little of the other courts, but she had heard Lucien's mother lived a sad existence trapped with his father. "She told me, she told me to offer it to you, so that you would know that Autumn has more to it than the violence and brutality seen from outside."

He laid a gentle hand on the basket's lid, one slim finger tracing another of the apples. They had a meaning to him. A connection to his old court, his old home, the mother he had not seen in so long.

"I thought, perhaps, you could use them in your baking," he said, straightening up and taking a breath, composing himself, "They are best enjoyed when they are cooked."

"They smell even better than this?" Elain blurted, eyes widening.

Lucien huffed a soft laugh, and it felt, oddly, like a victory, "They do indeed. They are made for roasting, for bonfires, and mead. I think they will be an excellent treat for those upstairs. And for you."

She smiled at him, "Thank you," she said, giving him a polite little curtsy, "This is very thoughtful," she gestured towards Nuala and Cerridwen, the two wraiths watching silently but, she knew, listening to every word, "We were actually about to make a pie. I think now it shall be an apple pie."

He smiled at that, then gave her another bow and made to leave. Something about the way he turned, the way his touch had lingered upon the apples, the smell of him, of Autumn, that lingered, the sadness in his eyes, the sadness in her chest, has her calling out to him.

"Perhaps you could stay?"

Nuala and Cerridwen glanced up, but kept their thoughts to themselves, as always.

Lucien turned slowly, seeming a little startled, and looked at her with raised eyebrows, "That's not necessary," he said carefully, "Please, don't feel obliged."

"I don't," she told him firmly, trying to be more assertive, "I think it would be nice to have a practiced hand to show me precisely how to, to slice and spice these apples. So that they taste their best."

He hesitated just a moment, then he gave her a smile and tied his long red hair up into a loose bun on top of his head, securing it with a leather band around his wrist.

"I can certainly do that," he told her, with a soft smile, "I've roasted more of these in my lifetime than I'd care to count."

She gave him a little smile, then turned to Nuala and Cerridwen and said, trying, and failing, to control her blush, "The kitchen may be a little crowded with four of us. I think I can manage, with Lucien's help. Perhaps you could attend to your other duties? I know you're both very busy."

It was painfully transparent, but neither of her friends made any mention of that. They just gave her and Lucien little bows, then vanished through the wall.

Lucien gave an exaggerated shiver at the sight, "Does that ever get unnerving?" he asked Elain, squinting down at her.

She giggled, "I suppose it was at first," she admitted, "I've gotten used to them. Mostly. But I still get a fright if I turn around and they're standing inside the table. I thought perhaps it was just a holdover from my being human."

"No," Lucien said wryly, "That's definitely not a human thing. Standing in tables is downright unsettling."

Elain smiled again, then added, "They've been good friends to me, despite their blatant abuse of furniture. And they're very good bakers."

"That I can attest to as well," Lucien said, washing his hands at the sink, "Their pastries are deliciously light."

She couldn't help noting, out of the corner of her eye, as he rolled up his sleeves, that his arms were corded with muscle, and well toned.

He didn't have the bulk of Cassian, or even Azriel, who was less of a 'beefcake', to use Mor's word, than his brother, but still broad-chested and muscular. He was more delicately crafted, and she bit her lip as her brain very firmly did not object to that one bit.

Lucien didn't seem to notice her ogling. Or if he did, he was polite enough to pretend that he didn't, for which she was grateful.

"Why don't we prepare the apples together?" she suggested, "The pie crust is nearly ready, after all, and there are quite a few of them. I can peel if you don't mind chopping?"

"I am at your service, my lady," Lucien replied, giving her another sweeping bow, "Your kitchen, your authority."

"I don't think anyone has ever given me authority before," she mumbled, before she could stop herself, picking up one of the apples and starting to peel it with a sharp knife.

Lucien took out a cutting board and set it down beside her, fishing a knife from the nearby block.

He smiled as he waited for her to finish with her apple. As she handed it to him, he said, "If you were given authority, over a whole court, let's say, what would it be? A court of pastries and cream? Or perhaps roses and violets?"

She considered, humming, then said bluntly, "Well, it would certainly have a lot more sunlight than there is here."

Lucien laughed, even as she blushed.

"Oh dear," she said, feeling even the newly pointed tips of her ears growing hot, "That sounded rather rude and ungrateful, didn't it?"

"Actually," Lucien said, leaning in conspiratorially, so she once again caught his scent, and trembled with it, "It was quite refreshing. I know that Rhys has an aesthetic to maintain, the dark and broody git, and there's a definite beauty to all of this," he waved his knife around airily, "But it does get a bit depressing day after day."

Elain gave a little squeaky at the mention of Rhys being a 'dark and broody git' but otherwise smiled at Lucien's assessment.

"No-one else seems to have a problem with it," she said, watching as Lucien efficiently cored and sliced the apples she passed him.

He was clearly practiced in the kitchen, which surprised her. She'd been told he was a High Lord's son, a prince - she wasn't sure why they were called princes when their father's were lords, but hadn't questioned it - she hadn't expected culinary training to be in his skillset.

"In fact they all seem to like it, even," she said, with a little sigh, "I miss summers in the mortal lands. Everyone keeps telling me I should stop thinking about it. That my life is here now, but..."

"But it was your home for most of your life," Lucien said quietly, "And that is difficult to forget, or fully escape from, no matter how long you're gone from it."

She nodded, and watched him examine the apple in his hand, that sad longing back on his face.

"Do you miss your home, too?" she asked quietly.

He glanced at her, weighing her, apparently judging how to answer, sincere, or sarcastic. To her surprise, he chose sincerity.

"I do," he said quietly, "Both of them." He sighed very deeply, "I have bad memories connected to both Spring and Autumn. Terrible memories, if truth be told, but..."

"But there are good memories, too," Elain said quietly, finishing the thought, "And other people seem to forget those. Maybe that's why it's been so easy for them to move on with their new lives."

Lucien peered down at her, holding her gaze for a long time, then he nodded.

"When I was given quarters in Tamlin's manor," he said, turning that burning gaze away from her to confront the apples again, "I chose to decorate the space as my rooms had looked at Autumn. Dark wood pannelling, oranges, and reds, and yellows, the colours of the bonfires and falling leaves. Tamlin and the others couldn't understand it. They had thought I would want to erase every memory of that court, after what had happened to me there."

Elain didn't press him to go into details about what precisely that had been. She had overheard snippets and gossip, but she had never gotten the full story. Now did not feel like the time for it.

"They didn't understand," he said, shaking his head, "I left Autumn, left it gladly. But a part of my heart still belonged there. A part of my heart will always belong there. Just as another part will always belong to Spring. My mother was of Autumn. There was a fire in my blood that called to that court. the festivals, and bonfires. The plants, and the people. The scents, and the food, and the beauty of it.

"I still remembered those things fondly. I didn't want to let myself forget. I didn't want to become the kind of person who consisted only of scars, and sadness, defined only by the terrible things that have happened to them."

He huffed a soft laugh and had to stop himself dragging his long fingers through his hair while he was around food.

"I apologise, lady," I came here to deliver you some apples, not wax lyrical on my philosophy of life," he said, inclining his head towards her.

But she laid a gentle hand on his arm and said, "No, I like to hear it. It...It's good to hear, honestly. I don't like to forget the good times, either. Nesta and Feyre, they fit in so well here, and have taken so well to being fae, on the whole. I know that whenever anyone mentions our past in the human world, they think of that cottage. They think of freezing winters, and near starvation. Of abandonment, and rejection, and sadness. So I don't blame them for finding that easy to leave behind."

"What about you, Elain?" Lucien asked, very quietly, "What do you think of?"

Elain closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, feeling a soft smile touch her lips, "I think of the cottage too," she admitted, "But I remember the way we all clustered around the fire under a big blanket, all of us.

"I remember my little windowbox, and the wild flowers I grew. I tried vegetables, but the seeds were too expensive, and the soil quality was too poor and shallow in my little box. But the flowers made me smile. They brought some colour to our dull, cold world when we needed it most.

"I remember Feyre's painting. And father's carvings. And the stories Nesta wrote and hid from us, but I still found them.

"I remember riding horses with mother when I was little. And pretty dresses that made me feel like a princess.

"I remember singing, and laughing, and living with my family. And sometimes, sometimes I feel mad for focusing on those little things, when everything else was so awful. I feel silly, and childish, and like I should think of things how they were."

"You are," Lucien said quietly, and she opened her eyes, finding him watching her with something close to awe on his face, "All of those things were real. They happened. They are true memories. I, I don't think it is childish to focus on the small things that brought you joy when the world was bleak and full of misery and pain. I think that makes you strong, and wonderful. In a world of harsh, jagged stones, and concrete walls, you find the beauty of the wildflowers growing up between the cracks. That, that is a very special, and noble way to live, I think."

"You see them too, don't you?" she said softly, "The flowers in the windowbox, and fighting to grow between the cracked stones. It's how you've survived after everything that's happened."

Lucien swallowed tightly, but nodded, "I try to," he replied, a little hoasely, "It's not always easy but...I try."

Elain nodded, "Me too," she murmured.

There was a long, intense silence, like a string being pulled taut between them. She felt herself leaning into it, both excited and afraid. Then Lucien cleared his throat and looked away.

She felt the relief, as the tension broke, but also a little disappointment, unable to discover where it might have pulled her to.

Taking a deep breath, Lucien said, too loudly, "Look at all these apples."

"Oh!" Elain exclaimed, only just taking note of the small mountain of slices between them, "Oh, yes."

"Come on," Lucien said, giving her a grin, clearly trying to put her at ease after that charged moment they had shared, "This is the best part."

It took him a moment, opening several cupboards, cursing under his breath when he caused a small avalanche of poorly stacked pots to come tumbling out of one, but he finally straightened up with a large mixing bowl held triumphantly in his hands.

He scooped all of the apple slices into it, then began raiding the spice rack. She lost track of all of the different things he tossed into the bowl. He gave it a final sniff, then nodded, satisfied.

"Alright, get stuck in," he said, nodding to her with a glint in his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow and he stuck his hands into the bowl with almost indecent enthusiasm, mixing the spices with the fruit slices.

Smiling, she stepped up shyly and put her hands into the bowl with him.

They stayed quiet as they mixed, but occasionally their eyes met, and, even more intensely, their hands.

Finally, Lucien deemed it ready, and they began lining the apple slices at the bottom of the pie tin. He showed her how to weave a traditional Autumn lattice on the top, and even how to make some leaf patterns from the leftover pastry.

While it baked, Elain soaked in the scents of it cooking. Lucien was right, it was so much better than it was originally. As it went on, she noted Lucien was starting to shift a little uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"What is it?" Elain asked, biting her lip, "Is my pastry not good enough to contain your magnificent Autumn apples?"

He glanced to her, mechanical eye whirring softly, and did not bite at her attempt at humour. He swallowed and said, "I don't think I should partake in this particular pie, Elain."

She frowned slightly, "Why not?" she asked, confused.

"It's, it's mainly a symbolic gesture, but I wouldn't want to take any chances. When, when a woman," she noted his use of the word 'woman' instead of 'female' with a jolt of pleased surprise, "Offers her mate food, and they accept, it generally seals their bond."

"Oh," Elain said, flushing as darkly as his hair.

"I'm not saying that if I eat this it will bind us togeher forever, with no choice, and no backing out but- To be honest with you, I have no idea what it will do, and I wouldn't want to take that risk."

"No," Elain said, perhaps a little too quickly, given the flash of quickly smothered pain in Lucien's face. "I mean, I'd like to take a little more time with things, if we could."

"We're immortal," Lucien said, with a small smile, "We can take all the time there is," he glanced at the large clock on the wall and added, "And speaking of time, I realise I'm almost late for my meeting with Azriel. He gets very grumpy when his guests aren't as punctual as he is."

"Azriel is always very punctual," Elain said, a little lamely, not quite sure what else to say.

"So I shall take my leave, lady," Lucien said, with another bow.

The formality felt...A little strange between them now, and she wasn't sure what she thought about that. She still didn't really know this man at all, and yet, what they had shared...

"Please tell me if you like the apples," he said, with a small smile.

"I will," she said, giving him a little curtsy in turn, "And please, give your mother my thanks."

"I will," he said, but there was a sadness in his eyes that told her he wasn't sure when he'd next get the chance to do that. If he ever did.

He turned to go, and she again found herself starting forwards, halting him once more, "Lucien," she said, and he glanced back towards her, "If, if you ever find yourself with any more fruits for baking. Or, or just the next time you're here, if you wanted to help me bake again I, I think I'd like that."

The smile Lucien gave her in answer was nothing short of a beam, something she had never seen from him before. It made him look younger, his eyes brighter, and softer.

He inclined his head to her in gratitude, then winnowed into nothing, leaving behind the faint scent of cinnamon and campfires, the perfect complement to their baking pie.

***

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you enjoyed!! (I got carried away and I'm SORRY).

#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #lucien #acotar series #acotar fic #my fic #elucien fic #SHIT THIS GOT LONG #I TRIED OKAY I REALLY TRIED TO MAKE IT SHORT #but also maybe i didn't try that hard #also if y'all are wondering if mama lucien is attempting to wingman her son from 3 courts away #you are 100% correct that is ABSOLUTELY what she's doing #HERE SON GIVE HER THESE SEXY APPLES SHE WON'T BE ABLE TO RESIST YOU #oh my god mom please stop #(but also thank you i love you okay byeeee ELAIN LOOK AT THESE SEXY APPLES) #anon: can i pls have them cooking together #me: HAVE A LONG PHILOSOPHICAL RAMBLE ON THE MEANING OF LIFE #also pie #i tried okay #i really did #they just GET ME #this is so soft it's what they deserve #ship: gentle hearts #otp: salvation #mine #answer post tag #taryn answers #anonymous #taryn fills fic prompts

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 8: Forgiven

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7

---

Peter wasn't quite sure how long he lay in the warm sand, his and Mr. Stark's hands lazily entwined while the vulture lay a few feet away, webbed to a crate, but he didn't really care. For the first time in days--months, really--he felt okay. He felt calm and safe, never mind the pain in his ribs and licking at his burnt skin, they didn't matter to the teenager. He'd heal. He always did.

After a few more minutes, there was the sound of sirens. Peter propped himself up, staring at the approaching red and blue lights, his heart dropping slightly. He guessed this was it. Mr. Stark would have to deal with the plane and Peter would have to deal with Mr. Fowler. He wasn't quite sure how mad the man was going to be at him being gone for two days, but glancing down at his soulmate, he didn't particularly care. He'd get to see Mr. Stark again soon, and that was all he really needed to push himself to his feet.

Mr. Stark glanced at him, picking himself up as well and placing a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder before turning to stare at where every emergency vehicle ever was arriving.

"Guess it's time for clean up," Mr. Stark said, whistling lowly. "Happy is not gonna be too please with me."

"I'm sure you'll be able to handle him, Mr. Stark," Peter responded, fishing his mask out of the sand and shaking it out.

"Eh. I'm not super up to it. However, if I tell him I'm taking care of a sick and injured child, I might get away with it for the night."

Peter laughed. "Better find an injured child first."

"I found one." Mr. Stark wrapped a loose arm over Peter's shoulder, corralling him forward. "Don't think you're getting out of this that easily. The Medbay at the compound is waiting for your burnt behind. C'mon, let's go."

"Mr. Stark, I gotta--"

"Get to medical, correct."

"No. Mr. Fowler--"

"Has already counted you as missing for two days. Your curfew is long broken," Mr. Stark countered, moving to say something else when a shiny black car slid to a halt in front of him. More cars and vehicles followed suit. Mr. Stark gave him a smirked glance. "Might want to put that mask on if your secret identity still matters to you."

Peter slipped the mask over his face, following the man as people poured out of the vehicles. Mr. Stark stepped up to a tall man with a surly face and a tightly wound posture, practically storming over to the billionaire. His first instinct was to step in front of Mr. Stark, but the mechanic didn't tense at all, instead slipping into a slightly strained smile.

"What the hell happened here, Tony?" the man asked, glancing over at Peter in confusion.

"Criminal mastermind. He's webbed up back there," Mr. Stark said. After a tired moment, the man shook his head.

"You look half-dead. Go see an ambulance. Call Pepper. I'll take care of this."

"No can do, Happy," Mr. Stark responded, gesturing to where Peter was standing uneasily. "We're gonna head to the Medbay. I'll see you at the compound."

Happy looked ready to argue, but with one last glance at Peter, he just shook his head again. He looked like he was about to burst from the stress. "Do you need my car?"

"Mine's still running."

"Good. Call me when you get there."

"Definitely, Mama Bear. Come on, kid."

Nervously, Peter circled around Happy, following Mr. Stark quickly to where the sleek car was waiting. The engine was still running, and he guessed that Mr. Stark had left the keys in in his mad dash to get onto the beach and help him out. He blinked in slightly dazed confusion, unused to being important. To being cared for.

The sound of the car door opening distracted Peter from his thoughts, drawing his attention to where Mr. Stark had opened the back door of the vehicle. The man gestured between it and Peter.

"Well? You getting in or not?"

"Am I being demoted from shotgun?" Peter snipped, but he got in nonetheless. Surprisingly, Mr. Stark slipped in after him.

"No. We're gonna make sure you're not dying," Mr. Stark said. "Friday. To the compound."

"Of course, sir," the cool robot voice responded, and the car started off, riding easily back onto the street. Peter finally took his sandy mask back off, grimacing at the grit that had slipped into the cuts on his face and watching with a sharp eye as Mr. Stark pulled out a first aid kit from underneath the seat. It was ridiculously big and, when he opened it, ridiculously well stocked.

"Okay. Suit off, Petey-Pie, let's see what we're working with."

"Hey! I just got you back on the nicknames!" he protested. Mr. Stark fixed him with a smile.

"Your AI came up with Peter-butter. My turn. Now: Suit please."

With a tired grumble, the teenager pressed the spider on his chest and peeled the suit from his skin coated in a thin layer of blood and dried sweat. He grimaced, blushing at the sight of his thin ribs. To his credit, Mr. Stark didn't say anything, didn't even stare at how gaunt he was, just poured some rubbing alcohol on a cloth and went for the nearest wound on Peter's chest.

He held back a pained hiss at the sting.

"Hold that in place," Mr. Stark ordered. Peter placed his own hand over where the cloth was, and Mr. Stark returned to grabbing more materials for more wounds. "Rate your pain. One to ten."

"Six."

"An eight, then."

"No one asked you, Doctor Stark." Mr. Stark glanced up at him from where he was wiping at a bloody slash on his shoulder, his eyes flashing. The teenager didn't notice that it was in humor and not in anger. Peter lowered his eyes, stomach churning and swallowing nervously. He had to force in a breath, remembering that the hand on his shoulder was gentle and friendly. Not Mr. Fowler. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Pete. You saved a lot of lives tonight. Saved my ass, too. Make fun of me as much as you want."

"Really?"

"This deal is limited. You have an hour."

"That's unfair!" Peter protested.

"Tough luck."

"But--" He was cut off by a hiss of pain as the car hit a bump in the road, jostling his bruised body. His ribs felt like shit now that the adrenaline was rubbing off. He couldn't remember being in this much pain, and it was all the teenager could do to blink back tears as his entire body burned.

"Drive carefully please, Friday," Mr. Stark called. "Are your ribs okay?"

Peter shrugged. "They'll heal. They always do."

"See, that's not really good enough for me. Friday'll scan you when we get to the compound and make sure all your organs weren't squished. We're not going to deal with internal bleeding."

Peter nodded dumbly, the world feeling like it was coming to a crashing halt around him. He so desperately want to lay down, to sleep and forget about Mr. Fowler or the group home and how badly he didn't want for Mr. Stark to go. But he didn't voice any of it, instead staying ramrod straight as Mr. Stark wrapped bandages around his shoulder and chest, the man mumbling about pain medicine that probably wouldn't work while Peter stared out the window with a tired blink.

After a few minutes, he mumbled, "How are we going to explain this to Mr. Fowler?"

Mr. Stark paused, glancing up at him before turning back to wrapping a thick layer of bandages around his chest. They were already turning a little red, but Peter wasn't worried, sure that they would stop soon. After a moment, the man patted the bandages into place and sat back in his seat with a tired sigh.

"See, I'm not really thinking we should."

Peter's neck cricked with how fast his head turned to look at the man from where he'd been shrugging on the tattered MIT hoodie, his eyes widening. "What? No--Mr. Stark I have to tell him something. I can't just--"

"You can't just go back to him, Peter."

His heart felt like it skipped a beat, his eyes narrowing defensively.

"...What? Mr. Stark, what the hell are you talking about?"

The man's finger thrummed against his thigh, brows furrowing as he clearly thought about what to say next. After nearly a minute, he turned back to Peter. "Kid...Fowler didn't file a missing person's report."

"...And?"

"And?" Mr. Stark repeated incredulously, "Pete, you've been missing for two days. With no reports to the police. No sort of search party or notifications that you're not okay. Nothing to keep you safe. And foster parents especially are expected to be on top of this kind of thing."

Peter stared at the man in confusion, stuffing his hands in the torn hoodie nervously. He shrugged nonchalantly, fumbling desperately for an excuse that didn't sound like shit. "Mr. Fowler's just--he probably didn't want to freak all the other kids out and--"

"Peter."

His jaw clamped shut with an audible click. Mr. Stark sighed, rubbing at his forehead.

"Look... My dad--my dad wasn't the best. He was mean and constantly disapproving, and he hit me when he was mad. I thought it was pretty normal growing up--not that I liked it in the slightest--but I was used to it. It was just what I expected." Mr. Stark paused, holding Peter's teary stare. "But that didn't mean it wasn't wrong. Adults should never hit a kid. Ever."

Peter tore his gaze away from Mr. Stark, staring at the seat back in front of him. He stuttered, "Mr. Fowler--he doesn't--he's never--"

"He took your card," Mr. Stark cut off gently. "He bought alcohol. A lot of it. I'm sure the following nights weren't very pleasant--believe me, I would know. And, I hate to tell you this, but you're thinner than a twig and jumpier than a grasshopper. And don't tell me that it's your superpowers, I know it's more than that. Kid, he's a bad foster parent, and you deserve better."

The teenager was silent for a solid minute, avoiding Mr. Stark's gaze as a feeling of frustrated helplessness bubbled up under his skin, threatening to spill from his eyes. He swallowed, wishing desperately he could curl his knees up to his stomach and hide himself in a ball underneath the red and torn hoodie.

"I don't, really. It's my fault I'm in foster care in the first place, and I was in a nicer home before I got sent to Mr. Fowler. They caught me sneaking out to patrol and I got sent away, so. Really it's just karma or whatever."

"Karma shmarma," Mr. Stark snapped. "You. Deserve. Better."

Those words didn't make sense, not to Peter. Why should he deserve better? Why should he be allowed to go on living comfortably and happily while May and Ben were in a place so dark their shadows no longer existed? It'd been his fault, and no one else's. If he'd just paid better attention. If he hadn't been so selfish. If he hadn't been so mad.

No. He didn't deserve better. Mr. Fowler had become exactly what Peter deserved. This guilt was exactly what Peter deserved. It bubbled underneath his skin, angry and hot and painful. Peter grit his teeth as regret reared its ugly head.

"It doesn't matter!" the teenager shouted. Mr. Stark stared at him in surprise, eyes dark. There was a silence following his outburst, stiflingly uncomfortable. The anger left him immediately, leaving him slumped against the sleep with a stressed sigh. "It doesn't matter... He can put whatever he wants in my file, he already has. He has everything he needs to ship me out of the state the next time I fuck up. Which might be now, to be honest."

The thought appeared the moment he said it. Peter didn't want to go to Jersey. He didn't want to leave New York, full of memories, both good and bad. Memories of dark nights and memories of comforting shadows. It was enough for a single tear to slip through his defense.

There was silence. Tiring and stifling and awkward.

There was a hand through his hair. Soft and gentle and soothing.

Peter leaned in unconsciously, turning the look at Mr. Stark through his flopped curls. The man had shifted to sit closer to him, brown eyes sad and tired and horribly heavy.

"You deserve better, Peter," he repeated, not an ounce of hesitation about him. "Whatever happened that made you think you deserve to live with a man who hurts you, it wasn't bad enough. Nothing ever could be. Because you're a good person, and good people make mistakes. They always do."

Peter shrugged. "Mr. Fowler can still do whatever he wants. He's my guardian."

Mr. Stark pressed his chin into Peter's messy hair. He could practically feel the mechanic thinking, solving a puzzle. A bit of his snappiness returned, the Tony Stark persona flaring up.

"I'll fix it."

"But--"

"I'll fix it. Just let me help, Pete."

"...Okay," he said after a moment, just desperate to let his eyes slip close. Desperate to forget. Mr. Stark tapped his cheek as his eyelashes fluttered close.

"Thank you for trusting me, but no sleeping. Just in case you have a concussion."

Peter groaned in annoyance, but he continued to slump against his soulmate's shoulder, lazily tracing the way their shadows flickered. He liked it better when they were normal, when he had Mr. Stark's shadow, but Mr. Stark's arm against his own was good enough that he could live with it until they got to the compound.

 ---

Tony kept a steadying hand on Peter's shoulder as they stumbled out of the Medbay together. The kid looked dead on his feet, ready to pass out on the nearest soft surface, but Tony needed to set just a few more things in motion.

Friday's scans in the Medbay hadn't revealed anything new or horribly life threatening, just a few cracked ribs and broken bones healing rapidly. The mechanic had splinted what he could and given the kid more wraps before declaring him fit to head over to the Avengers common hall. Tony himself was resisting a heavy limp, grimacing with every painful step, but he hadn't broken any bones and there were about a million things to do before he could get some bedrest.

The door to the Avengers hall slid open for the two as they approached, revealing the shiny and empty living room and kitchen. Always empty. He pushed the thought down with a tired swallow, giving Peter's shoulder a pat and leading him forward with a forced excitement.

"You're going to love it here," he started, rambling. "It's really nice. Watch out for Vision though when you meet him, he has a problem with walls. Here, sit down on the couch right here, I'll be right back."

Peter plopped down on the leather cushions, doe eyes following Tony in complete exhaustion as he walked away. Tony stepped over to the fridge, opening it and roaming over the food inside. He frowned. It was fresh, but most of it was basic ingredients and produce for bigger meals. Spinach, peppers, raw meat, hunks of cheese. Overall, nothing that would help the teen right now, save for a large carton of juice that he grabbed.

He closed the fridge, opening the pantry instead and pulling out bags of cookies, pretzels, and a random bag of obnoxiously healthy vegetable chips. His arms full, he tapped the door closed with his foot and headed back over to Peter on the couch, setting all the snacks next to him. Peter stared at it for a second, eyes heavy.

"Eat up. I know you're falling asleep on your feet, but you need calories to heal. So eat, sleep, hang out, and when I get back everything will be fine. Okay?"

There was that doubt again, lingering in Peter’s dark brown eyes. A tired reluctance that Tony remembered in his own eyes when he’d finally escaped home.

But then Peter’s eyes brightened when they clicked with Tony’s own. A sliver of trust.

There was a ghost of a smile on the kid’s face.

"Okay, Mr. Stark."

Tony smiled, ruffling Peter's hair. "Friday will lead you to a room when you're done eating. I'll see you later, kiddo."

As Tony walked away and towards his unused room in the compound, the corners of his mouth tugged, able to faintly make out the opening music to Star Wars.

  ---

Tony arrived at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys while it was still dark, his torn and dirty suit replaced with a sharp blazer and a matching pair of slacks thrown over a random graphic tee he'd grabbed. Once he'd popped a few painkillers and made a few calls with Pepper and his lawyers, the man had grabbed a pair of car keys and left, but not before checking on Peter once more to find the kid already fast asleep. He'd draped a blanket over him as softly as possible and walked out the door.

Peter's tired face has stuck in his mind as he'd driven over. The sharpness of the cuts healing on his thin cheeks, the faint smattering of freckles and the curly hair dripping onto his forehead. The thought of anyone being okay with hurting that kid was dangerous in his mind. The Vulture, or, Adrian Toomes, as Happy had sent him, was already being dealt with, but Andrew Fowler had yet to face the consequences of his actions. And Tony didn't want to leave the other kids in his care for one more second.

Not even bothering the lock the door, Tony stepped out of the car and up the steps of the building. He rapped on the door furiously, his anger kneading into the wood. The number on the front trembled.

Tony knocked two more times before there was finally an answer. The door swung open, revealing the stale stench of beer and a grumbled man. His pale eyes widened only slightly at the sight of the billionaire in front of him before resetting to their original uncaring position. The man took a swig of the beer in his hand.

"What are you doing here? The brat hasn't been here in a couple of days."

Tony narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw and resisting the urge to smack the bottle out of the man's hand. "You know I'm here for Peter?"

"Kid receives a mysterious letter with the initials 'TS' on it and the best excuse he can come up with is a school sponsored pen pal named Tony Smart? I'm not an idiot."

"I would beg to differ on that, but a let's agree to disagree and all that, shall we? I've got bigger fish to fry."

"Look, as long as I get a cut of the kid's pay, you can keep him as long as you want."

Tony paused from where he was pulling a folded up piece of paper out of his blazer, his eyes flashing and his stomaching sinking with an icy hatred. "Pay?"

"That shiny card must be part of his pay, right? Though I thought a sugar baby of yours would get more than three hundred dollars."

This time, Tony couldn't help himself from knocking the beer out of Fowler's hand. It smashed against the doorway into a thousand pieces, like the mechanic wished he could do to the man. Fowler opened his mouth to shout a protest, but Tony beat him to it. With an angry step forward and a dramatic flash of the papers hiding in his jacket, he cornered the man.

"You're disgusting. That is a child, that you were just willing to, what--pimp out?"

"Jeez, fine. Don't get your panties in a twist," Fowler said, but there was a drunken and fearful wobble in his voice. Still, he demanded, "You owe me a new beer."

"No. I owe you these."

Tony shoved the papers into the man's hands. Fowler spluttered in protest, but took them anyway with fumbling hands, squinting down at the paper. There was a hungry interest slowly replaced by confusion and then destroyed by horror.

"What the hell is this?" Fowler demanded. Tony managed a vengeful smile.

"A warrant and a signed court order," Tony said icily. "All of the children here will be placed in new homes and you will be placed in custody."

"You can't do that!"

"I think you'll find that I can. And I did. You did commit credit card theft after all. And being me did help. Just a little."

"I can--I have rights!"

"Oh, yes. I am arresting you. I guess I should read you your Miranda Rights, huh?" He cleared his throat. "You have the right to remain silent--and I would prefer if you did--anything you say may be used against you in a court of--"

"Shut up!" the man panted, clearly panicked. Tony let out a low whistle, not ashamed in the slightest to say that he was enjoying the way this man squirmed and sweat and fumbled.

"Well, now I have to start over. Legally, I do have to tell you this. Then again, I don't have any cuffs on me so I guess an NYPD officer could read them to you if you'd prefer."

"I can--this is fabricated! Whatever that kid told you, he's lying!" When Tony glared, a no nonsense stare of harsh anger lining his face, Fowler stumbled for a different approach. "I'll sue!! I can accuse you of shit too, Stark."

"I'm sure you can try," Tony said softly. "In fact, I invite you to try. Have fun with it. But know this--you messed with my shadow, and I don't take too lightly to people who do that."

"Your--"

Fowler was interrupted by the wailing of sirens. Tony straightened, pulling on his blazer. "Ah, that must be the police. I hope you have a good lawyer, though I'm sure they won't be better than any of mine. And--oh! Rot in hell if you would, please."

Tony patted the man on the shoulder just a little too harshly.

The billionaire left as soon as he could, but not before collected the belongings of Peter's left behind and doing his best to assure the frightened kids at the house that everything was going to be okay for them. That it was going to be better.

Everything was going to get better. Tony was sure of it.

  ---

  When Peter woke up, it was to quiet murmuring and the rifling of papers. He tensed immediately, his brain autopiloting to Mr. Fowler rifling through the morning mail, realizing horribly that he must have fallen asleep downstairs and--

"--all the paperwork's been filed," a low voice said, interrupting the teenager's panicked thoughts. "It's just waiting for the kid's signature."

Kid? Oh. Him. Peter was the kid, and Mr. Stark was the voice, the one mumbling about papers nearby. Peter kept his eyes closed, evening out his breaths as he tried dimly to remember what was happening.

It struck him without much effort that he was at the Avengers Compound, healing after having been kidnapped and then fighting the Vulture. He must have fallen asleep on the couch Mr. Stark had led him to, and judging by the soft warmth wrapped around him, someone had draped a blanket around the wounded boy. There was a dull pain that throbbed throughout his body, but it was easy to tell that most of his injuries were well on their way to being healed. The teenager guessed that all the bandages could be removed by midday. He wondered if he'd be removing them at the compound or if he'd already be back at the group home.

"Tones," came another mumbled voice, clearly doubtful and stressed. "Are you sure you're ready for this? I mean, I know he's your soulmate, but this is more than hanging out with or mentoring a kid. This is raising one."

Peter couldn't help the shock that made him tense and forced his eyes open. Thankfully, the two people talking were away from the couch and in the kitchen, unable to witness his small freak out. Raising? What the fuck???

Mr. Stark sighed, short and hot.

"I know, Rhodey, I know. The thing is, I could let him be placed back into the system, make sure he has a good home and let that be it, but I just... I mean, just looking at him is enough to tell me that that's the wrong move. I don't know what it is, but I see his face and I just--I just want to make sure he's okay. I want to keep him safe. It's--I don't know--it's like..."

"Like you were meant to be there?"

"Like I was made to protect him."

Peter flushed, fingers clenching around the blanket as he stared at his shadow, fixated on the tall shoulders and fluffy hair. He felt like he was choking on his own tongue, trying desperately to not say anything as he chewed on his cheek nervously.

"Maybe I was," Mr. Stark mused. "We still don't know why soulmates are soulmates anyway."

"Maybe," Colonel Rhodes responded. "If you believe in a higher purpose and whatnot."

"I don't. Usually. But for this, I think I do."

"I guess that all that's left is making sure Peter thinks you were made for it too."

"Yeah," Mr. Stark said. "Is it weird to be nervous? Like, this nervous? I've already sweat through my shirt."

Colonel Rhodes laughed. "I'll see you later, Tony. Good luck."

"Where are you going?"

"To put out fires for everything that happened last night. It happened right on Coney Island, Tones, every reporter in the city was there within ten minutes."

"Yikes. Hope you have fun, honey bear."

"You're an asshole."

"Love you too," Mr. Stark cooed. There was the sound of an elevator closing, and then it was just him and Mr. Stark. Peter wasn't sure whether to continue to pretend sleeping or not, not that he was sure he'd be able to properly fake it if Mr. Stark came over and looked up at him. He was practically frozen, stiff as a stick and staring ahead of him at his shadow with a fixed gaze.

Peter bit at his lip as he listened to Mr. Stark as he began to move around the kitchen, willing himself to sink into the cushions, relaxing with the clattering sounds of movement. He tuned into the notes of activity, listening intently as the billionaire softly clanged a pan on the stove, eggs cracked and cheese grated. There was the sizzle of cooking and the perfume of comfort. The teenager's mouth watered unwillingly at the smell of a hot breakfast.

So, of course, it was the grumble of his stomach that gave him away.

Peter winced at the loud noise, only worsened by the stifling of movement in the room for a long moment before it finally returned. He thought that maybe he'd gotten away with being awake when Mr. Stark called, "You up, kiddie?"

Seeing no point in lying, Peter pushed the blanket off of himself and peeked his head up over the back of the couch. Mr. Stark caught his eye immediately, overlooking the room from the stove in the kitchen area. The man smiled at him, and Peter tried for a small one back. It was weak, and he knew it. Mr. Stark probably knew it too.

"How're you feeling, Pete?" Mr. Stark asked.

"Ah, fine, fine," Peter said, getting off of the couch and stumbling over sleepily. After a moment of hesitation, he sat on a stool beside the kitchen counter, peeking over the polished marble to catch a glimpse of what Mr. Stark was cooking, pointedly ignoring the stack of papers on the other countertop. He was pretty sure that he was making an omelet. Just to double check, he asked, "Whatcha making?"

"Breakfast," Mr. Stark answered. So, not that helpful, but Peter didn't push. Instead, the teenager tried to sit back and make his shoulders relax. "We should check your bandages after we eat, okay?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, sure. That's good. Real good."

"And...I have something I want to talk to you about."

Peter couldn't help the way he froze, tensing so tightly he could probably make diamonds. Terrorizing anxiety coursed through the teenager in a way that he hated with every fiber of his being. He didn't know why he was freaking out so bad, why he felt like his soul was about to leave his body and take every rational thought with it.

"Yeah. Sure, sure. Okay," he managed to say. Mr. Stark gave him a look, but thankfully didn't pry, instead grabbing a spatula and tediously flipping the bright yellow omelet. Once that was finished cooking, Mr. Stark placed it on a plate a little messily and handed it to Peter along with a tall glass of orange juice. He thanked the mechanic quietly, quickly moving to eat the food.

Mr. Stark grabbed a piece of toast with jam on it and sat on a stool next to Peter. The two sat in tired silence while they ate, nothing breaking the lull save for the slight chewing of food and scraping of utensils. Mr. Stark finished his piece of toast before Peter finished his omelet, but only barely as the teenager polished it off ravenously. He could tell that Mr. Stark was anxious to get to that talk, but the man allowed for him to finish his glass of orange juice before beginning to talk again.

"So," Mr. Stark started, tapping on the counter nervously. Peter watched him anxiously as the man stepped off the stool, continuing to talk as he walked into the kitchen. "How much of our conversation do you remember while you were concussed last night?"

"Ah, most of it. I think," Peter said.

"Do you remember when I told you you couldn't go back to Fowler? And that I'd fix it?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah..."

"Well, I've got a solution." Mr. Stark stopped, his back to Peter, in front of where the stack of papers had been sitting. There was a moment of silent hesitation before the man picked it up, turning back around to face the teenager. "It's--if you don't like it, I can figure something else out, it's all up to you. But I'm completely willing to become your legal guardian."

Peter just stared, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Shock overtook his bruised body, leaving him a restless shell that was reduced to do nothing but stare. Mr. Stark hurried on in a slight panic.

"Of course, nothing's been finalized. My topnotch lawyers and the pulling of a couple of strings got me these" he gestured to the papers, "pretty quickly. They've all been notarized and signed, but nothing's official until you agree. It's your choice, kid."

Swallowing felt like the hardest thing he'd ever done as the teenager tried desperately to reset his glitching brain.

"My... You're going to be my guardian?" was all that he could say. It came out as a squeak, barely audible even to his ears.

Mr. Stark nodded. "Only if you're okay with it."

Peter could only gape at him for a moment before sputtering, "Wha--I don't-I don't---are you okay with it??"

Mr. Stark's face, contorted into confusion and slight apprehension, relaxed as the teenager finally managed to spit out his confusedly stuttered question. The smile that appeared was a little tired, a little exasperated, but no less warm.

"I'm five thousand percent okay with it," the man said. "I've never been more okay with anything in my life."

Peter stared up at him, swallowing forcefully. He wanted to say yes, to agree and finally be safe and okay, but hope was something hard to hold onto. This kind of trusting optimism, it was horribly unfamiliar to the teenager. It had been months since a hand on his shoulder had meant the friendly guidance of a caring parent rather than the controlling demand of Mr. Fowler. Since hugs had been constant and loving and Peter hadn't had to wonder about his place or his next meal. All those months had festered up so easily, and even the thought of trusting that everything would be okay with Mr. Stark was daring.

"Are you sure? Like, really sure? Because, I know-I know I can cause a lot of trouble and I still want to stay at my school in Queens and--"

"Then we'll stay in Queens," Mr. Stark interrupted. "And I'll keep up with you and your 'trouble.' I want to. I want to take care of you." When Peter was silent, Mr. Stark chewed at his cheek and then started, "You know what they say about soulmates? And their purpose?"

"That depends on who you ask, Mr. Stark," Peter managed to mutter. Mr. Stark huffed a laugh.

"Fine. What's the oldest, craziest, old wive-i-est tale about soulmates and destiny you can think of?"

Peter thought for a moment, searching in his mind desperately for what his Aunt and Uncle had used to tell him whenever he'd asked about soulmates. About when he'd meet his shadow and what it would be like.

"That souls were attached to each other for a reason?" he suggested with a shrug. "I don't know. Aunt May used to say that we were part of the same soul, but Uncle Ben wouldn't hear a word against soulmates being different souls that were, like, perfectly matched to support each other. He believed more in the destiny part."

Mr. Stark smiled.

"They sound like they knew what they were talking about."

Peter nodded, rubbing at his nose and sniffing tearfully, "Yeah. Yeah, they were pretty great."

"Well, I've never been one for the whole destiny thing, but I can't deny what it feels like to be around my soulmate. Like a purpose just dropped on my doorstep. Which is how I know that I'm more sure than sure that I want to take care of you."

"You think that that's your purpose?"

It sounded ludicrous to the teenager's ears. This was Tony Stark. Iron Man. He saved lives and the world and he'd fought aliens. He provided affordable and clean energy for the world. He ended wars and funded charities and he was important. And Peter...Peter was just himself.

"I know it is."

Peter let that sit, eyes glancing for a moment. Something finally clicked. After what felt like years and no time at all he choked out a teary, "Yeah. Yeah, I wanna stay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Suddenly Mr. Stark was by his side, a hand draped over his shoulder and his chin pressed into the boy's hair. Peter couldn't help the tears then, silent and staining his cheeks a flushed red. He sniffled with the relieved tears, his nose beginning to run. Mr. Stark only wrapped him in a tighter hug, soothing circles rubbed into the teen's bony back.

"It's okay, Peter. I've got you."

  ---

  After Peter signed the papers, Tony had broken out two specially ordered cupcakes, his heart practically cracking in two at the way the teenager's eyes had lit up with unbelievable excitement. The mechanic had expected for the kid to gobble up the dessert in less than a second flat, but instead, Peter savored it slowly, as if afraid that it would disappear if he took his eyes off of it.

Peter later admitted the truth about mealtimes at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys. The same meals every day (cereal for breakfast, PB&J's for lunch and dinner). One snack. No sweets.

No wonder the kid was nothing but skin and bones.

Tony kept Peter in the compound for another few days after the Vulture incident, putting out fires and making sure the kid, and himself, had both fully healed. As well as narrowing down some apartments in Queens. He and Pepper had already been picking between them for days beforehand anyway, so he'd taken the last options to Peter, not that the kid had really voiced an opinion.

Tony ended up going with the most expensive one. They moved in after three days in the compound. A small suitcase filled with Peter's meager belongings that Happy had recovered from the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys was the only thing the kid ended up bringing with him. If Tony had to guess, he would say that the teenager had maybe three pairs of clothes.

The kid kept huddled next to him, painfully close the entire time as Tony swiped the card to the building, as they walked through the lobby and into the elevator, and when they finally walked through the door. Not that he minded in the slightest, enjoying the bewildered look on Peter's face as they stepped into the apartment. There was still plenty of unboxing to do and furniture to move around, with Pepper's supervision of course, but the teenager was clearly losing his mind with the high-rise.

"Whoa..." Peter muttered under his breath. Tony hummed in agreement.

"Pretty nice, right? Of course, Friday hasn't been installed yet, and there's a few changes to be made, but I think this is good."

"Changes?"

"This building didn't come pre-stocked with a state of the art lab, y'know. I was thinking about transforming the floor below."

"This apartment has three floors?" Peter asked, his eyes widening as he turned away from the glass stairs leading up to where Tony was pretty sure a couple of bedrooms were.

"No, just two. I bought the building."

"You... What?"

"I bought the building," Tony repeated offhandedly, moving to explore the new kitchen. "We still have neighbors downstairs, of course, but I wasn't about to have a landlord tell me what to do. Besides, better for insurance."

"I don't like that that's what you're concerned about," entered a new voice. Tony turned and smiled brightly at the sight of his girlfriend stepping into the apartment. She was clearly tired from all the fallout from the plane crashing, but she held a genuine smile on her face nonetheless.

"Pep!" Tony called. "You're just in time to unpack."

Pepper rolled her eyes at him, instead turning to greet Peter, who was staring at the woman like she was God herself. When she held out a hand, it took Peter a few moments to fumble out a response and shake her hand.

"Hi--hello, Ms. Potts," the kid stuttered. "I'm--I'm Peter."

"Hi, Peter. You can call me Pepper."

"Okay. Pepper."

Tony made a buzzer noise. "Excuse me? I'm still Mr. Stark? Who's your soulmate here?"

"That's your name, Mr. Stark," Peter smiled. Tony ruffled his hair as embarrassingly as possible.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Peter-butter."

If looks could kill, he would say that Peter was trying to kill him. However, the flushed cheeks and baby doe eyes did nothing but make Tony's heart wiggle in amusement and Pepper stifle an coo.

"Stop terrorizing the kid," Pepper reprimanded. "Especially when we've got work to do. Once Peter's stuff gets here we can begin moving that into you room, but for now we'll work on the main area."

"Oh, uh, my stuff is here, Ms. Potts," Peter mumbled. Eyes strayed to the beaten up bag. Tony and Pepper exchanged a glance.

"New plan," Tony announced. "Online shopping. C'mon."

"But--"

"Nope," Pepper cut across. "You're a part of the family now, Peter. We get to splurge on gifts."

Together, the two grabbed Peter's arms, leading him over to the steadiest pile of boxes and sitting down. Tony pulled out his phone and placed it in front of Peter, who didn't even touch the phone now balanced on his leg, just stared at it in confusion.

"I--what?"

Making a face, the mechanic tapped Peter's head. "C'mon, Petey-Pie. You know how to work a phone. Whadda ya want first?"

"I don't--I don't know? I don't really care."

Tony glanced over at Pepper once more, a little bit at a loss. He would be lying if he said he knew exactly how to connect with Peter. He felt like he'd been doing a good job thus far, but not everything made sense to him about their relationship, and a teenager given basically an infinite amount of resources to get whatever he wanted and wanting nothing was confusing him more than anything ever had.

With a look that clearly said, 'Let me take the lead,' Pepper picked up the phone, drawing Peter's attention.

"How about we just start simple? We'll start on your room now, and then go shopping later for clothes, okay?"

"O-okay," Peter mumbled. Tony gave him a comforting pat on the back.

"Great," Pepper said. "What kind of bed do you want? Queen? King? Bunk bed?"

"Bunk bed," Peter said after a moment.

"Great. What sheets?" Tony asked. Peter shrugged, but Tony shook him playfully. "C'mon, my little shadow. I know you're a nerd deep down, and on the surface too. What sheets do your geeky little teenager heart desire?"

"Star Wars?"

"Star Wars it is," Pepper declared.

Peter smiled, his cheeks cherry red. Tony grinned. Now they were getting somewhere.

    Ten Months Later

    "Boss, Mr. Parker is back."

Tony glanced up from where he was working in the lab, looking away from his newest project to smile brightly at the ceiling. He stood up, wiping his oily hands off on his equally oily pants, finally conceding to grab a cloth and rub the slick grease from his fingers. The mechanic gave the new project one last glance before throwing the cloth down on the nearest table and stepping toward the elevator.

"Great. Tell him I'm on my--"

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Tony turned, a confused expression turning into a small smile as he caught sight of the red and blue figure stuck on the window, waving at the mechanic in excitement. He rolled his eyes, walking over and undoing the latch on the window to let the teenager finally at a healthy weight roll into the room.

"I'm gonna start putting bug spray around the apartment until you learn to use a door," Tony warned. Peter pulled his mask off, revealing hair pulled down by sweat and a bright smile. They grew brighter and brighter every day. The teenager rammed a shoulder into Tony's playfully.

"Why can't a window be a door?"

"Because it's a window."

"Old houses in the south used to be able to transform between windows and doors to evade taxes."

Tony considered him. "How do you know this?"

"Decathlon."

Tony rolled his eyes, unsure of how he hadn't guessed that. He was going to the kid's competition next week for heaven's sake!

"Well, this is not the old south. We use doors here."

"That's less fun."

"Yeah, yeah. Go wash up for dinner."

"But it's barely five! I was going to go out again."

"Should've thought about that earlier," Tony teased. "It's family dinner night. And don't you have an essay due?"

Peter mumbled, but listened nonetheless, beginning to pad away towards the elevator to go up to their apartment suite, when there was the ringing of an oncoming call. Both of their heads turned as a screen popped up, displaying an unknown number, untraceable too. Tony and Peter exchanged raised eyebrows as the kid walked back over.

"What is this, Fri?"

"It is an incoming call from the phone Captain Rogers sent you."

Peter glanced between him and the screen warily. "That means there's a problem, doesn't it?"

"Probably," Tony admitted.

He turned to the kid, patting the kid's back and fixing him with a steady stare. Peter's doe eyes attached to his, trusting in a way that had been growing exponentially recently. Tony hadn't known it was possible to look at someone with that much trust. That much love. Especially from a kid whose first interaction with Tony had ended up in him running away, but life had become steadily calm, steadily trusting, as the days had gone by. As the months had. A few bumps in the road and a couple of mishaps, some bigger than others along the way, but good nonetheless. Yeah, life was good.

Tony liked to think he was right most of the time, but even he knew he was pretty hit or miss on how to remain any kind of relationship. But this--Tony knew he'd been right. His purpose was to protect Peter. And he loved every second of it.

"But if it is, I'll keep you safe. We'll fix it together."

Peter's lips tugged in a trusting smile. He held out a fist. "Together. MacaTony--"

Tony returned the fist bump lightly with a roll of his eyes, grinning as he caught sight of their shadows switching, "--And Peter-butter."

Whatever Steve was calling for, neither would be going in alone. They were never alone.

Their shadows made sure of it.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7

@annabanannabeth​

#friendly neighborhood exchange #peter parker #tony stark #Iron Man #spiderman #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #ironman fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #not st*rker #thank you so much everybody for sticking around and reading my story!!! #:)))

[pyreo]

deltarune megapost

I wanted to make a Deltarune post about the lore and the things that aren’t  obvious. And once I do that I wanna focus on why Mettaton is incredibly important to this setting

And also why he poses a problem

Why did Toriel and Asgore get divorced?

Without the setting of Undertale, Asgore and Toriel’s marriage still broke up after they had Asriel. There needs to be a reason though. In UT it was Asgore’s ‘worst of both worlds’ decision regarding killing anybody that fell from the human world, including children. We saw how close they were before this happened. Only something deep and serious caused that rift. In Deltarune, what on earth did Asgore do?

What happened to Dess?

Mentioned a handful of times by Noelle, Dess was her older sister and is mentioned In Undertale.... in that Xbox exclusing casino thing. The way Noelle talks about her, the conspicuous way Noelle gets locked out of her big house - it implies Dess is gone or deceased. Berdly recalls a spelling bee when he and Noelle were younger where she, despite being smarter than him, misspelled ‘December’, allowing him to win.

In the two-player spelling puzzle, it also spells out ‘December’ as Noelle recalls the past and her silhouette regresses to a child while she does so. Being distracted by her sister’s disappearance, rather than pure shyness, could account for her misspelling her name on stage, and it clearly left a big psychological mark for her to have this visual regression in the Dark World.

However, there’s a graveyard in Hometown with no Dess. I heard another theory that she has been missing for years, because where each character’s personal room is made by Queen to reflect their tastes via their search results, Noelle has a calendar where every day is December 25th. This could imply that Noelle continually searches the internet for ‘December Holiday’, her sister’s name, to see if there are clues to her disappearance, but of course the only result you would get is the date of Christmas.

Who is the Knight?

It’s now implied to be Kris, who has been forcibly removing the player’s influence to act on their own. By all accounts the Knight is the game’s main antagonist. Spade King and Queen both mention the Knight as someone who influenced their position - they brought Spade King to absolute power, and showed Queen that creation of new worlds was possible.

We’re led to believe that Kris was doing this, because they’ve been acting outside of the player’s control. Eating the entire pie between chapter 1 and 2 might have been a red herring to cover that they also went to the library and used that knife to slash open a dark fountain there.

However. This has issues. How would they even manage to shuffle slowly all the way to the library and get in the computer lab? The Knight is also the one creating the hidden bosses. They talked to Jevil until he realised he was in a game and he lost his mind; they ruined Spamton’s life by elevating him to success and then crushing him. Whatever the Knight is doing seems to be deliberately planned with key players in mind.

Kris opening the fountain at home at the end of ch.2 can be explained in that you just figured out in Cyber World that anyone determined enough can do this, and so, Kris decided to. So a better question might even be...

What does Kris want?

We have no idea. They are capable of removing the SOUL, ‘us’, temporarily, and putting things in motion we cannot influence. But they also keep putting us back in control afterward. This is hinted at right when ch.2 starts, where if you inspect the cage in Kris’s bedroom they threw us into, the description says it’s inescapable. Meaning Kris came back and took us out, willingly.

They allow us to pilot them through the game. Why? Because they cannot live without the SOUL for long for some reason? Because they’re bad at bullet hell? Why did they slash Toriel’s tyres before opening the fountain, making sure nobody could drive away?? Why did they specifically open the door?

You can find out details about Kris through the creepy way you interact with the townsfolk, who think you are Kris. They play the piano at the hospital waiting room - better than you. They used to go to church just to get the special church juice. It’s all normal, relatable things, not like someone who’s trying to plunge the world into darkness. Judging by their search history portrayed in their Queen’s castle room, they really want to see their brother again. However the castle has a room based on Asriel’s search history too, and Kris (not you) closes their eyes and won’t look at it.

What is Ralsei?

His name is an anagram of Asriel. Is he an extension of Asriel? The slightly flirtier dialogue in ch.2 would point to no. Is he an extension of Kris themselves, given the link between Kris’s childhood habit of wearing a headband with red horns on it, to pretend to be a monster like their family?

Ralsei knows exactly where the Dark World in the school is located, and unlike regular Darkners, knows the world is folded up inside the ‘real world’. There’s a certain whiplash to Ralsei telling you to hop out of his reality into yours and go down the hallway to retrieve all the board game items.

How does he jump from one Dark World to another, without assistance? How does he not get petrified like Lancer and Rouxls? Is this a power level thing because he’s a prince or something else? We definitely do not know enough about Ralsei.

He also says this incredibly suspicious thing after you spare Spamton NEO. Susie was also curious but accepts that maybe it ‘didn’t mean anything’, which is a sure tell that these optional bosses do mean something.

Someone is orchestrating what’s happening, opening fountains, manipulating the rulers, and influencing NPCs to become the optional bosses. Why? I suspect Ralsei for both knowing too much, and pretending something doesn’t matter when it clearly does. Until Asriel actually comes home from college I’m going to suspect he’s involved in this too.

How much does Seam know?

Seam on the other hand knows a lot about what’s going on but is openly withholding information while helping you. He’s nihilistic. He says things like:

One day soon... You too, will begin to realize the futility of your actions. Ha ha ha... At that time, feel free to come back here. I'll make you tea... And we can toast... to the end of the world!

Either this ‘end of the world’ is a reference to The Roaring, where opening too many dark fountains dooms the Dark World and the real one... or, I can’t get out of my head the idea that Deltarune takes place in a fake, or weird reconstruction of Undertale where things don’t match up, and eventually it will have to disappear. After all, powers of determination and creating and manipulating universes are Undertale’s basic bread and butter. How can we look at an Alternate Universe containing the characters we already know and not suspect that? Seam also uses Gaster’s key words, ‘darker, yet darker’, seemingly to clue us in that he’s not off track here.

Why haven’t we seen Papyrus?

This is a bright neon flashing ‘something’s not right’ sign. It’s not like Papyrus’s voice actor was too busy or anything. His absence is noticable and for a reason. Nice of Sans to promise we could meet him despite being aware we’re piloting a child’s body around, though, even if he didn’t follow through.

What locations in town could be used for dark fountains in the next 4 chapters?

If the sequence continues, we have chapter 1 in the school games room, chapter 2 in a computer lab, and chapter 3 in front of Kris’s television, where the aesthetic of each setting influences the world, characters, and enemies in the Dark World created there. Future possibilities include the church, the hospital, sans’s grocery store, Noelle’s house, and the closed bunker.

What the hell’s in the closed bunker

This one’s too obvious, honestly. I think it’ll open for no reason in chapter 7 and a little white dog will bounce out and steal one of your key items and nothing else happens.

Why does Asgore have these

Unlike the bunker feeling like a joke teaser, I gotta believe this is foreshadowing something weird. For example, what does opening a dark fountain in here with the seven flowers do? Does it just take you into Undertale?

Each chapter will have a hidden boss with a ‘soul mode’ from Undertale

Chapter 1 let you stay red, but I think each subsequent chapter is going to change your soul mode to one of the seven colours and design the encounter around that. Purple, yellow, green and blue were used in Undertale, leaving the light blue and orange modes yet to be revealed.

How does Spamton emulate Mettaton Neo’s name, body, and incorporate his battle theme, and the ‘Dummy!’ theme, with no actual connection between them ingame?

This is a really fun one that’s explained over in this post here. Swatch is the Dark World creation from the paint program on the library computers, so he’s able to explain that a Lightner made the robot body decaying in the castle basement that way.

Mettaton went to the library and drew his ideal form, Mettaton NEO, in MS Paint, and the Dark World formed that into a puppet body which Spamton was able to hijack temporarily. So by doing that Spamton was able to channel Mettaton’s appearance, attacks, music, and SOUL mode for the fight.

This might mean that the future hidden bosses, each with their own SOUL mode, might be based on the associated character for that mode (Muffet, Undyne, and Sans or Papyrus), and the boss will take on some aspect of them from their world to leech their fight mechanics.

The Problem With Mettaton

We don’t exactly know what Deltarune is about. It’s an alternate universe where the characters from Undertale already live on the surface, have completely normal lives, but diverge from the storyline of Undertale and, crucially, have not lived through the changes Frisk brought to their lives.

Remember how Undertale had a dozen different ending routes depending on who you befriended? The constant reinforcement in Undertale was that your choices mattered. Through Frisk, you chose to bring Alphys closure about her mistakes, you chose to befriend papyrus instead of attacking him, you chose to help Alphys and Undyne realise their feelings for each other and it’s only doing that that leads to the golden ending and escape to the surface.

Deltarune is the opposite, your choices do not matter. The only thing you can do to force the route of the game to change is to force Noelle into a No Mercy run, which is indirect, and also, a total desperation to mess with an otherwise set course. This version of the characters have not been helped by Frisk - Undyne and Alphys are not together, Papyrus has no friends, Asgore cannot get over himself, and they’re clearly the worse for it, but potentially, you COULD still do these things. In fact it’s hinted that you already are.

But there’s Mettaton.

He’s still a ghost and does not leave his house. In Frisk’s world, Gaster deleted himself, promoting Alphys to royal scientist by bluffing with Mettaton, and she then build him his ideal body. In Kris’s world... Alphys is a school teacher. There’s no barrier to break, no reason to experiment on souls, no Flowey mistake, and no body for Mettaton.

It was sad in Ch.1, but now with the Spamton NEO fight in ch.2, it’s unmissable. Mettaton wants that body and he cannot get it. Alphys in this universe is not going to leave her teaching job and suddenly be able to build a robot. Mettaton is just... screwed out of his happy ending and cannot get it.

So what resolution could this have? If it wasn’t for Mettaton I might believe in the vaildity of Deltarune and Hometown. But. How can you doom this character? If Undertale was the only way Mettaton could be befriended, then Undertale is Primary Universe A and Seam is right - the world of Deltarune is doomed as some kind of aberration. It all relies on how this gets explained in the future, but the core mystery of Deltarune is how exactly this universe intersects with Undertale and whether one is an offshoot of the other. How the Dark World links into that is another complication. But even as we get more fun characters and neat stuff in the Dark Worlds, let’s not forget we have absolutely no idea why Undertale’s characters are living here with no mention of underground or why there are no other humans beside Kris.

#undertale #deltarune #welcome to my giant essay post

[guacameowle]

Jumin Han’s Bad End 2 DLC - Notes / Opinion

Y’all know me. I have to take notes for everything I play or read or watch. I can’t help it. Here we have Jumin Han’s Bad End 2 DLC. The infamous bad end. The red shoes bad end. The “kinky” bad end, to some. Not my favorite bad end, but a memorable one. With that said, let’s dive in! Spoilers ahead!

Episode 1

This DLC has multiple endings! Interesting. Depending on how I answer will determine which end I get. This has me thinking there may be a way to get Jumin back onto a healthier relationship track? I will eventually aim to achieve both endings, though.

Jumin’s hand is fucking HUGE. MASSIVE. WHAT ARE THEY FEEDING HIM? Please hold while I scream at Kristan (jalaqueeno) about this. Holy shit.

It’s been one month since Jumin went to work. One whole month! Mr. Jumin Workaholic Han hasn’t gone to work in ONE MONTH! This man has made it his sole mission to keep you locked up & stay with you. Dude, like… why are you so obsessed with me~?

MANSION? They’re not in the penthouse anymore? I mean… there are worse cages to be kept in.

I am absolutely playing the answers that subtly suggest I am not ok with this new forced live-in situation.

HE’S TRACKING HOW MANY STEPS I’VE TAKEN. Wait until this man finds out I hate walking the mile…

Jumin continues to call this a game. Says he has a therapist on standby. Does he know that HE can use the therapist? In fact, I highly recommend it.

He says you can leave at any time. Color me suspicious. I don’t believe him for one second. How far is this “game” going?

MY PRECIOUS BABY DARLING SWEETIE PIE TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD WHOLESOME BEAUTY PERFECT CUPCAKE ELIZABETH 3RD HAS ARRIVED!

According to Jaehee, MC has been with Jumin for two months now.

Interesting how Jaehee makes a point to mention the mansion being untouched as this is where Jumin keeps his childhood toys. He brought you where he keeps his toys. Does he really see all of this as a game & you’re a toy? Can he snap out of it if you call for the game to end, or will there be backlash?

Some of these answer choices feel tricky. I’m trying to gently weasel my way out of this “game” without hurting anyone.

“Don’t say that to my master.” Listen, Jumin is my favorite man in this game, but that answer option physically made me cringe. Me? Call a man master? I could never. Not me. Not this bitch.

Wow. Ok. All this stuff with Jumin’s mom is moving fast. I can already see if he actually does lose her, it may make him hold onto MC that much more/harder. Maybe. 

Woah woah woah. I know Jumin is acting a little suspicious & out of sorts, BUT AIN’T NO ONE MARRYING HIM EXCEPT ME. ALL RIGHT? I’ll fight. I know where to get a bomb…

Excuse me? A fitness trainer? Yeah........ about that. I’m going to have to leave. Sorry this situation didn’t work out between us Juju. Best of luck, though!

Episode 2

My room is kind of cute! Wait, why the fuck aren’t Jumin & I sharing a room? If I’m locked up & tracked, you better believe I’m sleeping next to that dick.

Send a message to space? The fuck?

Oh. Duh.

“I heard that obsession comes from anxiety.” DING DING DING DING.

Omg Seven. You can’t just ask me to open my box. I’m seeing another man...

LONG HAIRED JUMIN?????

Jumin really didn’t have one woman in his life who wasn’t cold or weird to him. I know we already knew from his route he had a difficult upbringing. But I hadn’t expected them to dive into that aspect for this DLC but I can see how there’s the connection.

I told him I wanted to be alone to see if he’d respect boundaries.

OH SHIT THAT CHAPTER ENDED SO QUICK. DID I FUCK UP?!

Episode 3

So are we meant to see this adult Jumin, playing this “game” with MC, as him regressing within himself & falling back to enjoying fantasy? Avoiding reality? Something he didn’t allow himself to do as an actual child? He didn’t understand why people indulge in magic, fantasy, make-believe as a kid. Now he’s vastly overshot the mark to the point that this fantasy life with MC has become his “reality.”

DO NOT GIVE THIS BABY BOY WINE, I SWEAR TO GOD.

Omg. Little Jumin is so cute. I will fight everyone to protect him.

This woman done fucked up. Look at this child, you’ve given him anxiety. He doesn’t know if you want him to be mechanical or a normal kid. Jesus. All this Work Work Work No Emotion Work Only No Feelings bullshit is her fault. Jumin’s only doing what he was taught. He was told this is all he’s good for, all he was meant for.

“I feel like I am a tool. Sometimes I want to be treated like a son.” STOP. IF THIS GAME MAKES ME CRY. I’M GONNA FIGHT SOMEONE.

IF Y’ALL DON’T GIVE THIS LITTLE BOY THE LOVE & AFFECTION & CARE HE DESERVES

Jumin is obsessed with grape juice. Grows up to be obsessed with wine. Y’all made him an alcoholic.

“I am not like her. I will not be cold. I will be warm to my family…” JUMIIIIIN. THIS LITTLE BOY IS TRYING SO HARD! IT IS POSSIBLE JUMIN! AIM FOR YOUR GOOD & NORMAL ENDINGS!

SLEEPY JUMIN HAN CG

OH FUCK

OH FUCK ME

OH HELLO HUSBAND GODDAMN YOU LOOKIN’ CUTE AS FUCK

LET ME HOLD YOU JUMIN. YOU DESERVE TO BE LOVED & HELD & CARED FOR!

I think you have to choose the answers that gently pry you away from Jumin? He can’t force this relationship. It can’t be controlled by him. It isn’t a game. He needs to come to that realization, but he’s really not making that connection...

“I have never been involved in a deal outside a form of give-and-take.” Oh, that hurt. He doesn’t trust you to stay with him unless he can offer you something? His money/extravagance/keeping you in this “game” you started with him & him playing into it is what he has to do to keep you with him.

“Please show me that you love me. I want to know what love is.” Insert Explicit MC x Jumin Fanfic Here. I’ll show you, Jumin. I’ll show you all night long.

*Jumin snuggled closer* In my own personal canon, that means we FUCKED. SLOWLY. GENTLY. ROMANTICALLY.

Episode 4

The creepy lullaby music started up. Shit is about to go down.

Omg is this butler going to lock me in the basement?

Lmao did I fuck up with the “what’s a cage doing here?” reply? How was I supposed to know there wasn’t actually a cage there? No Jumin, I don’t want a cage. …. at least not for me, but we can discuss that later.

SHE WOULD LOCK HIM IN THE BASEMENT? That’s it. I’m fighting everyone. Stay behind me Jumin, I’ll protect you.

“Let me talk to her! I’d like a word with her!” LET ME AT HER, JUMIN. I HAVE SOME SHIT TO SAY. SHE’S DYING. I HAVE A SHORT WINDOW. LET ME AT HER.

Not little boy Jumin Shawshank Redemptioning his way out of the basement omggggg

JUMIN YOU WANNA FUCK? NOW? This man is sending me through whirlwind of emotions.

OH SHIT. I’m torn between the “whisper in his ear” option or the “let’s change our roles for just today” because as y’all may know, I enjoy being in charge.

Me: “Let’s change our roles…” Jumin: “Uhhh maybe we should leave.” Darling, you know you’re a submissive. It’s ok. No judgement.

FADE TO BLAAAAACK. THEY FUCKIN’.

I’M HOOTIN’ & HOLLERING. After the fade the black I said I would stay in my own clothes & Jumin says, “They’re dirtier than you would think.” DID THIS MAN JUST CUM EVERYWHERE? LMAAAOOOO

Happy End!

Ayyy we did it, lads! Unlocked the happy ending first. Even though we already gave Jumin a happy ending in that basement, you know what I’m sayin’~

LMFAOOOOO JUMIN STILL CAN’T DRIVE LMFAOOOO

Wait, turned our backs on everything? How the fuck is this the happy end? Happy for who? Jumin?

So… what the fuck was that?

The good ending just reenforces this “only us” narrative? The good ending is that this “game” Jumin & MC are playing doesn’t end? Nothing resolves. He doesn’t mend any relationships. There’s no healing or moving on. He exerts more of his control on MC & takes more drastic measures to ensure they’re together.

WAIT. DID WE JUST FUCKING ABANDON ELIZABETH 3RD TOO? ABSOLUTELY NOT. THIS ENDING SUCKS. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FUCK THAT. PISS OFF, JUMIN HAN. I WON’T HAVE THAT BULLSHIT. YOU DID NOT JUST TURN INTO A PET ABANDONER RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING FACE. I HATE IT. NO. I’M OUT.

The CG was hot, though. Jumin in black on black on black? AND GLOVES?! Hell yeah. That’s a whole meal right there. Delicious. 

Episode 1 (Attempt 2)

Well, time to try to get the bad end (????) now I guess. Maybe the bad end is that this game of their’s actually does break. That’s what I’m hoping for at least.

Jumin already making jokes about switching roles. Jumin, my love. I am more than happy - extremely willing & eager actually - to be in charge here.

Pretending to want all of this ‘being a possession’ nonsense is making me uncomfyyyy.

Episode 2 (Attempt 2)

“Do something Jumin wouldn’t like” Lmaooo it calls Zen. HAHAHAHAHA

I think Zen’s voice acting is some of the most expressive, in this whole game.

Ah, so then I guess turning on the computer let’s you talk to Yoosung.

Not Jumin deliberately cutting my call. The audacity.

Jumin, possessiveness can sometimes be cute. But in this case, I’m not having it. Not interested.

All the toys in the world didn’t keep Jumin entertained. BUT THIS PUSSY DOES.

Episode 3 (Attempt 2)

Flew through that one just choosing the options I didn’t choose before. Didn’t seem to glean any new information except the fact that Jumin no longer has a desire to form a family, says it entirely depends on how badly MC wants a family. Continues that narrative of, if MC wants it, he will provide it... to keep her.

Episode 4 (Attempt 2)

So we’re just going to leave gold bars in that safe?

Happy End Again????

It says I got Happy End again, even though I chose entirely different answers & went along with being Jumin’s possession...

OH WAIT, IT IS DIFFERENT!

I can’t believe my first meeting with Jumin’s mother is after he rawed me in the basement & had me put on a fantasy fairy tale princess dress to make our escape. Omfg. Ma’am, your son’s cum is still dripping out of me, please give me a few minutes to freshen up first. Goddamn.

Jumin’s mom is named Carolyn!

I can’t believe I’m in the middle of a family argument while Jumin’s cum glues my thighs together.

She ain’t sick. She’s lying. I’m calling it.

“Simple - make him soft” Jumin: “Like mashed potato?” LIKE MASHED POTATO? FIRST OF ALL, JUMIN SAYING ‘MASHED POTATO’ IS SO FUCKING CUTE I WANNA SCREAM. Secondly I meant, make him soft as in help him let down some barriers & let people in.

“I heard sons are psychologically bound to be attracted to women reminiscent of their mothers.” Ok yes, that may be true but you don’t have to remind me. Bleh. Stop.

“If my consort is to leave me one day, I will be scarred for the rest of my life.” I am sad for him. So sad.

ONE BILLION, TO BREAK UP WITH JUMIN? WOMAN, YOU ARE SOMETHING ELSE.

The “mind if I touch it” option fucking sent me. I’m laughing so hard. It is 1am. I might wake up my neighbor! I chose the “…..” option though. I’m sticking with Jumin through this. Let’s see what happens.

… I’ll loop back & choose the money if I can though to see what chaos occurs.

“This is exactly what people mean when they say, ‘So not cool.’” JUMIN. NOW IS NOT THE TIME LMFAOOOO

Jumin went back to work. All right, that’s progress. He renovated the basement on a happier note. Ok ok, small progress. 

“Now I wish to paint this entire place with our love.” TIME TO CHRISTEN EVERY ROOM WITH SEEEEX

THAT CG!!!!! AAAHHHHHHH!!!! WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW!!!!!!

Looping back to choose more options for this episode...

CALLED JUMIN’S MOM AN OLD HAG & JUMIN LIKED WHEN I DID THAT LMAOOOO. I would like to call her a lot of things.

Final thoughts:

Long story short (too late), this DLC reenforces that this is a Bad Ending path, in which you won’t find a fix for Jumin, won’t find a way to get him back on track to his true good end. And that’s ok! This is a bad end after all! Though both endings are listed as “good” or “happy” endings, they’re still set in this twisted relationship, this weak form of love, Jumin believes is real. He calls it a game, says a therapist is on standby, says MC can leave any time she wants, yet when she chooses options that distances herself, suggests Jumin pay more attention to something other than her, or shows she’d like more freedom, he immediately blocks that path in some way. Even when choosing all the options that don’t give in to the plaything/being controlled role, the conclusion is Jumin reenforcing his control harder - you both escape together to be alone, neglecting everyone & everything in your life, & Jumin insists all he has to do is take care of you in various ways - to give you everything - to keep you with him. Even following the confrontation with Jumin’s mother & turning down the option to leave Jumin for money, it shows how far Jumin will go to keep MC. He truly believes he has to provide everything (money, security, possessions, etc.) in exchange for her love, her company, her willingness to be with him. This man has slowly been broken over & over again over the course of his life & he’s finally given in to these poor teachings & selfish encouragements, & has convinced himself what he’s found is full love where he provides anything & everything to keep MC’s interest in him. A clear give & take relationship. A contract. A game. And he’s not about to let that go.

Personally, while this path isn’t my favorite for Jumin, I was still absolutely impressed with the two different ways they had this particular Bad End play out. An emotional read from start to finish & back again.

#I flew through that so quick whew #Jumin Han #mm #mysme #mystic messenger #Jumin Han Bad End 2 #Bad End 2 #DLC #Bad End 2 DLC #spoilers #spoiler #mysme spoiler #mysme spoilers #After End #Jumin Han DLC #Route Notes #text post #long post #Meowle Mumbles

[pepperpills]

The Harvest - RE8 fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader

Notes: hi guys, I'm changing a little my posting method. at first, I was afraid the chapters were too big and decided to divide them in parts and post a new part everyday (as long as there was a part to post), but it kind of affects the reading, so I will be uploading a new complete chapter every tuesday, hope it is better for you!

Warning: NSFW content

Part I - Destiny (1) Part I - Destiny (2)

Part II – The Lord

The day after The Harvest, when you were designated to work for Lord Heisenberg, was a long one. Not really exhausting as you spent most part of it turning from one leg to the other waiting for someone to activate the bridge to the factory.

You were deadened by a miscellaneous of emotions battling to gain domain over your brain. You couldn’t stop thinking about waving your mother goodbye as the sun conquered the sky, shortly before being surrendered by the stormy clouds.

After the speech at the Chapel, you wanted to wander around a little bit, maybe hunt, thinking that it probably was your last walk on those landscapes, yet, you didn’t want to get late on your first day, so your feet lead the way past Heisenberg’s gate, close to the church. It wasn’t even lunch time when you reached the end of the road, facing the factory chimneys and the hell lot of metal discarded in its front yard.

You had completely no idea how to call someone or if you should, as far as you knew, the lord lived there alone and you didn’t think it would be a great first impression if you simply started yelling his name, so he could do that bridge thing.

Thus, you waited. Placing your bag on the ground, you stood there for what seemed to be two entire hours. Then you got tired and sat, your corselet holding your oxygen levels. After a while even being sat was annoying, your legs tingled and your stomach hurt, once you completely forgot to bring any food with you.

That would be a great time for the Duke to make an entrance. As one of his most loyal clients – maybe you sneak once in a while, claiming possessions of one or two crystals –, sometimes you two shared a meal and Gods, he was a good cook. But it wasn’t his week at the Village and that wasn’t his store’s place anyway.

When the day light began to fade and the clouds grew heavier, you started worrying about getting wet. To divert your mind from that thought, you left all your belongings at the end of the road, not too close to the border, so hopefully they wouldn’t fall in the water below, and explored the ruins, studying the bricks that build those structures, absolutely bored, not even anxious anymore. At that point you could think about a thing or two to say to that idiot Heisenberg.

What would happen if he didn’t open the gate? Could you just walk away and live your life? Well, that didn’t sound like a bad plan, if just you could reach the forest first… The first water drop popped in your hair, the rain it announced didn’t take long to join it and a few moments later you were soaking wet, cold to the bone, contracting every muscle.

Suddenly, as you were about to curse Heisenberg’s name, a gear sound rose, it sounded old, but well-oiled and was really loud, louder than the rain and thunders and made you and the crows jump, they flew, you stayed as there was nowhere to go. Approaching your dank belongings, you saw a firm, modular, sand-coloured bridge forming in front of your eyes. Its movement was smooth comparing to something that big. You were genuinely impressed and would like to ask a few questions about how that works.

This surreal vision absorbed you for a few minutes after it was done, you didn’t feel the rain chastening your skin anymore. To be honest, at that point you realized where you were at and what you had to do, after an entire day in standby.

Your own brain didn’t really wake you up from that hypnosis. Oh, no. What made your heart rate rise again was a sudden, strong and frisky voice coming out of nowhere. You looked around, moving your head way too quick, making a spray of water with your hair and saw no one, but his words were most certainly there, echoing in your mind, making your entire body feel warm.

“C’mon, honey pie, we ain’t got all day.” He said, demanding, and then laughed.

Great, a madman, you thought. You weren’t sure, though, if you blushed intensely due to what he just called you or because every cell of your body felt enraged with that joke, it was you who had been waiting for him, you who would be forever wet, because he left you in the rain. You wanted to walk to that factory and tell it straight to that son of a…

Shortly, you understood. It was a test. You took a deep breath, grabbed your stuff, which made a humid sound, and walked resiliently to the factory’s gate. He wanted to see if you were a spitfire and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“She walks.” He giggled, the voice of the wind, and then opened the gate.

Was he doing it with his mind? You knew that Lady Beneviento had some sort of effect on people’s brains, hallucinations they said, Lord Moreau could turn into a giant fish, Lady Dimitrescu had impressive long and strong nails that could tear anyone apart. What could Lord Heisenberg do, really? The villagers talked about he being one of the strongest lords, if not the strongest of them all. He had some power over metal, but you didn’t know exactly how it worked.

Anyway, you stepped in his front yard, facing the absurd, yet fascinating sea made of his discarded toys. For Gods’ sake, you even saw a war tank half buried in the dusty soil, you couldn’t even imagine how he had that and why he would so easily neglect it. There were ripped off motorcycles, destroyed cars, metal pieces with a huge variation of sizes and shapes and a ton of mechanical parts just lying there as a good old scrap heap.

Home, you thought sarcastically and smiled. So, when the last factory doors finally spread open to you, you faced the interior with a smile on your face even though you were miserable due to the storm. Carefully, you came inside just to be greeted by a puff of heat and sweet smoke, really welcoming at your state. The warmth certainly came from all the machinery working there somewhere, making a metal orchestra that never shut off. The smoke, well, it was coming from Heisenberg’s lite cigar.

He came from above, as a god like being, building stairs with metal parts right in the mid-air and climbed them down. You had never seem such thing and it was breath-taking; you were hypnotised for a moment there, silently dripping on the grimy ground, actually cleaning it a little.

He had some sort of waddle on his walk, nothing tawdry, though. Karl Heisenberg looked like an authoritative, impulsive and humorous man and he was, above all, having fun with you being there as if you were his new pup and you sure were.

“Oh, look who finally made it!” He greeted, on the ground, standing three steps away from you, the smoke so dense it made your eyes water, yet reassuringly hot with a tobacco scent.

Heisenberg took off his spectacles, just then you realized he was wearing them inside the factory. Besides that, he was dressed exactly the same as the day before, it didn’t seem he’d showered or so. Nonetheless, now you could see his eyes, his multi-coloured greyish blue abysms staring straight at you for sure this time.

All you felt able to do was stare back, almost not blinking, taken by those soft colours on a rough man like him. You thought you would be scared, although, you were honestly intrigued. You noticed another scar crossing his cheeks and nose and wondered how it ended up there, feeling all of a sudden tempted to reach it with your index finger, gently sensing the cicatrized skin.

“Good evening, sir.” You found yourself saying to be polite, breaking the motionless aura that sunk you in contemplation.

It was bizarre, but you weren’t cold anymore nor angry, you had the grip over your own posture again, your corselet helping you to keep your back straight. You were confident.

“Good evening, Y/N.” This you weren’t expecting, almost broke you. Why would he bother to memorise your name?

You remembered what Miranda said about being solicited by one of the lords, that made you shiver, exactly like the one you had before, only this time you could also smell the iron all over, not only taste it. The scent in the closed atmosphere of the factory had a light, almost undistinguished, aroma of the night, the fresh breeze and dry grass, maybe brought by you, however, most of it was rusted metal, motor oil and tobacco. It wasn’t unpleasant, just uncommon to what you were used to.

“Guess you found less transparent clothes.” He said next, circling you, studying you and your reactions.

You noticed he also smelled like the factory as if he was part of it, or it was, indeed, himself. You closed your eyes and the iron taste emphasized, it felt like you were licking a ring, you head spined.

“It is tradition to wear them at The Harvest.” You defended yourself – and your pure intentions.

You don’t know why, but you felt your cheeks burning, actually, parts of your body that would usually pass unnoticed had lite with the tension in the air and you just hoped you could be alone, devouring some food to calm your nerves.

“Horseshit!” Heisenberg raised his voice, coming through his pressed teeth. “They just make you wear those slutty clothes so my sisterAlcina can see all of her new pups’ assets.” Heisenberg mocked, laughing madly.

“Oh.” You couldn’t think of anything better to say, you never thought of that.

At that point, you were thinking about yourself, your dress and how you felt pretty wearing it. Did it count on the selection? You felt slightly ashamed, Heisenberg’s breathing was too close to your left ear, but you wouldn’t dare to move or your noses could collide.

“Surprised?” He questioned, maliciously. You didn’t answer immediately, you were too aware of how your boobs were trying to escape the corselet’s dictatorship. “I asked you…” He bellowed “are you surprised?” he finished in a lower tone.

“Y-yes.” You finally said. “Never thought of it.” You looked at the ground, discovering a puddle where you were standing.

“You sound like an outsider.” He ruminated, more to himself than to you.

“I kind of am.” You confessed, thinking about the cabins. “I am from the cabin people.”

“Hm… Interesting.” He glanced at you, head to toe, you couldn’t help feeling heated as you never felt before. “Sorry about the rain.” Heisenberg shrugged. “I am a busy man.” He justified, mischievously, remembering you of the anger you felt back at the bridge.

The lord left you alone for a second, walking past through a curtain. You followed him into a small improvised office area with photos all over a wall, it pictured the Village, the lords’ lots and Mother Miranda, a big poster of her right in the middle. It had a knife scratch on it. Maybe Heisenberg wasn’t a family’s man after all.

You were regaining your confidence as he was distracted with the pictures – or you thought he was, unable to really see what he was picturing –, you were seeking for a good ambiguous thing to say about waiting so long for that sort of reception, however, he was quicker and made you gasp, almost choke.

“Take ‘em off.” It was an order said firmly. The way he looked at you, as if he was some kind of authority, gave you the chills.

“Them?” You innocently asked, placing a hand on your belly, trying to breathe.

“Your wet clothes.” He explained, pointing to your entire body.

“All my clothes are wet.” You insisted, flushing heavily.

He took his very own overcoat off and handed it to you. You hesitantly accepted it, not knowing exactly what to do with his eyes on you.

“For fuck’s sake.” He turned away, chuckling.

You waited half a second to be sure he wasn’t secretly looking, you didn’t know if there were cameras in the room, so you started undressing. It wasn’t a very easy dress to take off, you couldn’t reach the laces on your back, because of that, you had to ask for his help.

“Can’t even take off your own clothes, kitten.” Heisenberg mocked, as his adept hands slowly, playfully, untied the laces.

His touch was warm, he slipped his hand and you felt his calloused fingers on your skin, your body hair immediately responded husking and an electrical current flowed through you, lightening your eyes, reverberating to your core. He also felt that and some other things that made him put away his hips, but once you were facing the entrance, you couldn’t see his reaction and only heard a small movement of boots.

Lastly your dress fell to your feet and you covered yourself with his bulky overcoat, feeling better as you inhaled his aroma so intensely you almost fainted with those mechanic flavours petting your skin and his body warmth heating you.

“Now, enough chit-chat. Your duties.” He broke the silence as you finished tying the fabric belt around your waist.

“Yes, sir.” This time it was him who took a deep breath, seeming a little bothered somehow like he could use some time alone.

He had been a lonely man. You didn’t hear other people, well, living people, in the factory the next days and realised it was only you and him. It must have felt weird having someone around after years of living like an eremite. Even with all the jokes and that cheap charms, the view of him tilted to the investigative board gave you the impression that it was a bit too much having you there all at once and decided to put your rain resentments aside ang give him a chance and some space.

“I need some cleaning. I am expanding some experiments and I need to use a new wing for it, but it’s really messy.” You couldn’t see his face, but you were sure he had a grin adorning his scarred lips.

“I will do it.” You said, a little disappointed that this was your choir and surprised you were expecting something more… Dangerous? Exciting maybe?

“Of course you will.” He was leaned on the office desk, not even looking at you anymore, suddenly sold out. “One more thing.”

“Yes? What is it, sir?” Heisenberg shook his head making his grizzly hair dance as if getting rid of a thought. It wasn’t clear if he was still having fun or being disturbed by something.

“There is only one bed in this factory.” You turned stone cold with that announcement, abruptly conscious of all the blood running through your veins.

A secluded part of your mind, a usually quiet one, whispered a thought: It would be good to see where his blood is running to.

“Unless you want to sleep in a stretcher.” He added, laughing vigorously, giving you the chills again.

“Oh no, I will take the bed.” The answer came easily as if it was always there.

You took your wet clothes and belongings after he told you how to access the bedroom and you left him alone to it, whatever it was.

#resident evil #re8 #karl heisenberg #re village #karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil 8 village #heisenberg #heisendaddy #heisenberg resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 fanfic #original post #resident evil village #re8 karl heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #fanfic #re fanfic #the harvest

[inawickedlittletown]

Baked With Love (Destiel fic) - 1/5

Summary: Dean never met Lisa's neighbor, but he knew one thing: whoever it was, they could bake. After breaking up with Lisa, the one thing Dean misses is her neighbor's pie. After finally meeting him, Cas' pie is not the only thing Dean likes.

On Ao3 

------

The weird thing about the end of a relationship was all the little things that suddenly just came to an end. Things like Sunday brunch and dinner dates at restaurants that Dean would have never stepped foot in before. The best things to end were the arguments when Lisa would get mad every single week about Dean’s standing bar night with Sam. Or how often Lisa had expected Dean to get her flowers. In some ways, it was strange to re-calibrate to having free time again, but in the best way. 

Dean found himself at The Roadhouse on a Wednesday night — something that would have never occurred while he was dating Lisa. Wednesday was not his and Sam’s usual night, but his brother met him there anyway. 

“How are you holding up?” Sam asked after they were already a few beers in. 

“What do you mean?” 

“The break up, dude,” Sam said. “It’s been what? Two weeks?” 

The thing that really cemented for him that he’d done the right thing breaking up with Lisa was that he didn’t even miss her. Dean had expected to, but the loss of the relationship didn’t really hurt. It was nothing like his last serious relationship with Cassie and maybe that was why Sam was so concerned. Cassie had broken him. It had been a long time after Cassie before Dean felt like he could do more than a one night stand. It was why Lisa had felt different, Dean had wanted more from her and yet somehow things just hadn’t worked. If he really had to think about it, he couldn’t even say that he missed the sex and considering how bendy Lisa was, that was saying something. 

“I’m alright, Sammy,” Dean said. “I don’t think I actually let myself get attached, if I’m honest.” 

Sam nodded. 

“But, I do miss one thing,” Dean said. He took a gulp of his beer. 

Sam made a face. “Ew, Dean!”

“What? No….I mean, she did yoga. But, no, I miss the pie.” 

“Lisa baked?” Sam asked, his eyebrow raised.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “No. Definitely not. But she had this neighbor. I never met them, but every Friday they brought Lisa some sort of baked good. Sam, it was the best pie that I have ever tasted. Better than mom’s even. And now, no more pie.”

“Wow,” Sam said. 

The crust had been flaky and sweet. The apples had had a crunch to them and there had been so much care put to the spices and the flavor. Dean had never believed in a higher power and yet eating that pie had felt like a religious experience. 

—

A month after the break up, Dean ran into Lisa. He really should have known better than to stop at the cafe near the yoga studio, but Dean had been desperate for caffeine and it was a better option than Starbucks. While he was there, he couldn’t help but notice the pies on display and so he indulged in a slice of cherry pie. It left Dean on his own at a round table waiting for the coffee to kick in and savoring his pie. It wasn’t an amazing pie, but it was still pie. He was so single-focused on the pie that he almost didn’t see her at first, but then he looked up and spotted her. 

She wore yoga leggings and a sports bra. Her hair was tied back into a neat ponytail and she was laughing with a gaggle of her yoga friends. Dean had met a few of them and he wasn’t ever going to be able to tell them apart. 

As she turned to get into the line, her eyes swept right over Dean and then came back to him. Dean lifted his hand in an awkward wave. He didn’t expect Lisa to do more than similarly acknowledge him, but instead she headed his way. 

“Dean,” she said. 

“Hi,” Dean said back. “How, um, how have you been?”

Lisa actually smiled at him. “I’m alright. We had fun there for a while. And I just wanted to say, no hard feelings.” 

“Good. Yeah. Uh, you too.” 

Lisa pointed at the last few bites of Dean’s pie. “My neighbor came by last night and left me a loaf of banana bread. I had to bring it into yoga class because you weren’t around to eat it all.” 

Dean chuckled. “Your neighbor should open up their own bakery. I would be their number one customer.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Lisa said. 

“And, uh, you know, since no hard feelings and all, if your neighbor bakes a pie any time soon I am definitely available to take it off your hands. If that isn’t, you know, weird.” 

Lisa actually threw her head back and laughed. “Do you want my neighbor’s number? Get you right to the source?” 

He should have felt weird about it, especially because in the entire time that Dean had dated Lisa, he’d never actually seen Lisa’s neighbor. He’d always pictured the neighbor as a nice older woman who lived alone and didn’t have anyone to share her baking with. 

“Look, Cas is a sweetheart and it won’t be weird or anything.” 

Maybe, it would be less weird than using Lisa as some sort of go between. No matter how amicable their break up had been, Dean figured they probably shouldn’t see much of each other. 

“Alright, then,” Dean said.

Lisa nodded. She grabbed her phone out and a moment later Dean had a text with Cas’ phone number.

—

It was almost a month later when Dean saw Lisa again. This time, it was because she was having car trouble and didn’t know where else to go but to the only mechanic that Lisa knew: Dean. 

Dean co-owned Singer Auto. It had once belonged to his uncle, Bobby Singer. Bobby wasn’t even really his uncle by blood, but he’d been a family friend for so long that everyone considered Bobby family. When Bobby decided to retire a few years earlier, he’d offered Dean the shop. It was Dean that insisted on buying it from him. Bobby had eventually been worn down to selling half the business to Dean. 

Dean ran the day to day, but Bobby stopped in every once in a while — when he got bored mostly — and did a bit here and there. Business was going well. 

Lisa’s car had been in good shape when Dean was dating her, but when she called him up, it was because her car wasn’t starting. Dean talked her through tightening up the battery terminals but the car still didn’t start. 

“You might need a new battery,” Dean said. 

Before Dean could offer to head to her place to jump the battery and get the car over to the shop, Lisa told her her neighbor had just come out and offered to do it. 

“And I’ll just drive it straight over to you.” 

Lisa arrived not long after and with her came a tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies. 

“From my neighbor,” Lisa said. “I asked and Cas said you never called.” 

It wasn’t that Dean had forgotten as much as that he’d felt awkward calling someone he didn’t really know just to ask them if he could buy some pie from them. He was sort of rethinking Cas being an older grandma type, though, what with the whole giving Lisa’s car a jump thing. Maybe Cas was younger than Dean expected, or a woman that knew how to bake and their way around a car. 

“Call Cas, Dean,” Lisa said. “It would be rude not to. Cas is expecting a call.” 

Replacing her battery didn’t take long and Lisa reminded him to call her neighbor again before she left. The taste of Cas’ cookies after they were all gone later that day made him decide that he would call Lisa’s neighbor. 

—

He sent a text instead of calling. He did it early, right between breakfast and leaving for work. A kind of rip the band-aid off type of thing. 

Hi. This is Dean.

And then because that felt like not enough at all. He sent a second: 

Lisa gave me your number because of how much I gush about your pie. 

Hope this isn’t weird. 

And when that didn’t seem like enough either.

Feel free to ignore me if this is too strange to you, but I am very willing to pay you to bake me a pie. 

He read them all over a couple of times before sending one last text. 

Thank you. And promise, I’m just very enthusiastic about pie. 

After that, he just dropped his phone on the couch next to him and groaned. He wanted to take back all the texts. Lisa’s neighbor was going to think he was crazy.

By the time Dean set off to work, he had no response which was probably for the better. 

Work was busy that day. It was a constant. They had a bunch of appointments lined up. Some easy jobs like doing an oil change, but others were more complicated — the type of thing that would take days to finish. Then, there were the people that just stopped by on the chance that Dean or one of his mechanics were free. So, Dean didn’t get to glance at his phone once the whole morning. And because Sam showed up during his lunch, he didn’t look at it then either. 

It wasn’t until he got home, after a long shower to get rid of all the grime and the smell of motor oil that clung to him, that Dean even glanced at his phone. 

Hello, Dean. 

Lisa mentioned I might get a call from you. Your texts were a humorous way to start my morning. It is not weird to be complimented on something I love to do. Baking is a passion of mine. I would love to bake you a pie. Lisa mentioned my apple double crust was your favorite. 

Payment is not necessary. Friday is the earliest I will have time, if that works for you. I’ll have it ready for you to pick up by six. 

-Cas

Cas sounded formal. It was hard to infer age or gender, but Dean supposed none of that mattered when it came to it, not when this Cas person could bake a pie that was rivaled by no other. 

I would feel weird not paying you for all that hard work. Friday is great. Thanks again. 

Dean was going to make sure he gave Cas something for the pie. The whole thing already felt a little strange, but for Dean it would feel even stranger to take the pie for free. 

When he and Sam met up that night, Dean didn’t bring up the whole weirdness with Lisa’s neighbor, but when Sam asked if Dean wanted to do something on Friday night he turned him down. 

“What, you have a date or something?” Sam asked. 

Dean denied it, but his brother didn’t seem to actually believe him. 

—

On Friday, it was Cas that texted Dean first, with an address to the house on the right of Lisa’s, as well as confirmation for pick up any time after six. Dean read the text over his lunch and he texted an affirmative before he got back to work. 

The shop closed at five. Dean went home and got showered and cleaned up. And because it felt like he’d come off as too eager to show up at six on the dot, he busied himself cleaning his kitchen and getting his laundry sorted so he could put it in the wash later. After that, he went through the pile of mail that he hadn’t looked at all week. It was almost seven when he texted Cas to let him know he was on his way. 

Cas’ house looked almost identical to Lisa’s and all the other houses on that street. A neat lawn in the front, a Victorian style with a large porch, a detached garage in front of which sat an electric blue Jeep. Not the type of car that should have belonged to the middle aged woman that Dean had been expecting. He parked his car on the street, feeling just a little strange that he wasn’t pulling into Lisa’s driveway. A glance over there told Dean that Lisa wasn’t home. 

As he walked up, the first thing that Dean noticed was that Cas’ mailbox was shaped like a bee. It was really well made and adorable to boot. 

He gave the doorbell a ring and didn’t wait long for someone to come to the door. As the door pulled open, Dean was startled by a car screeching by. He turned away, looking out as a Honda Civic narrowly missed Dean’s Impala as it drove off. For a moment, Dean had almost stopped breathing. 

“I don’t know how that kid managed to get his license,” a voice from behind him said. A deep, masculine voice. 

Dean turned, slowly. Cas had stepped out and Dean’s breath caught. 

Cas was a man that stood almost at Dean’s height. His dark hair was tousled, his eyes were the bluest eyes that Dean had ever seen, and over a lean and muscular frame, he wore an apron that in cursive letters said “Save The Bees”. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said and his chapped lips broke into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I’m actually a little behind, so your pie just made it into the oven. But, come on in.”

“Uh,” Dean couldn’t find words. How had Lisa not told him that her neighbor was a guy. A very attractive guy. 

-

Part Two

#destiel #destiel fic #deancas fic #supernatural fic #deancas #supernatural #fanfic #my fic #this fic is all fluff

[stusbunker]

AGA: Spit It Out

A Supernatural Denny AU

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny Lafitte

Other Characters: John and Mary, Jody, Garth, Anna, Castiel, Sam, (mentioned) Benny, Jo, Jack

Word Count: 4222

Summary: Dean has the toughest conversation of his life. Cas asks questions. Sam is a little shit.

Warnings: Homophobic language, internalized biphobia, coming out

Series Masterlist

Shout out to the amazing @cracksinthewalls​ for all her help on this series.

       Dean hadn’t realized how terrified he was of facing his father until he broke down at Jo’s. It hadn’t felt like something he would ever have to do until then. Now, it felt as inevitable as a death sentence.

John had always been a huge force in Dean’s life, but since he had gotten hurt to the point of disability, he was less of a presence and more of an imprint. Letting down his folks was the ultimate sin, one Dean had fought his whole life to resist. He knew they loved him, but would it be enough for them to see beyond the idea of Dean they had in their heads. Could they love a pansy?

His mother would be easier to bring on board; he was her favorite whether she’d admit it or not. On the other hand, John was a Marine, he was a mechanic; he didn’t deal with feelings or things he thought were reckless, selfish choices. Dean had never been selfish a day in his life, but this was something that seemed worth it. Benny was worth it. Dean couldn’t give up on family, and he needed them in his corner if it was going to work at all.

First, Dean just needed to get the words out.

The wind whipped through the neighborhood he grew up in like a child unleashed upon the playground. Direction and speed split its focus until it stilled long enough to move on to the next distraction. Dean parked on the street, letting the familiar siding and newer front door center him as he approached, trying to ignore the uneasiness that was unfurling in his gut. Sam was having lunch with some guys from high school who were in town early for Thanksgiving, granting Dean this window of privacy.

Not that Dean told Sam anything. He had done enough talking at Jo’s, even Benny didn’t know everything that he’d been processing the last few days. He hadn’t wanted to make any promises. Dean walked into the house, calling out his greeting, never one to knock at home. John was parked in front of the television in the living room while Mary sent her welcome from somewhere in the basement. 

“Hey! Talk about timing, lunch is just about done,” John teased. “What brings you ‘round? Sammy’s out for the day.”

“Yeah, Dad, I know. Kinda why I came,” Dean shoved his hands in the pockets of jeans, still standing.

“Jayhawks are playing at two if you wanna stay,” John offered. Dean hummed in uncertainty. John dragged his feet from the ottoman to sit up and face Dean better. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, nothing we can’t talk about over lunch. I’m gonna go see if Mom needs anything,” Dean nodded towards the basement steps and left John to his football.

Dean bowed his head as he reached the bottom of the steps, clearing the duct work to find Mary folding laundry at the long narrow table they used for everything from school projects to writing out Christmas cards. 

“I thought that was you,” Mary said pleasantly. “Did your dad tell you lunch was almost ready?”

She dropped the shirt she had finished atop an awkward pile and opened her arms for a hug. Dean scooped her up, probably a little too enthusiastically, but he didn’t care and she didn’t mind. A simple gasp told him she noticed though.

“So--- what’s the occasion?” Mary asked, turning back to the basket.

“Nothing really, just wanted to catch up,” Dean downplayed, grabbing a pair of jeans to help. Neither of them pointed out that they’d see each other the next day for Sunday dinner. Mary welcomed the visit as much as Dean was dreading it.

“Your father had physical therapy yesterday. I don’t think they get paid enough,” Mary conspired with a heavy side eye.

Dean chuckled, “I’m guessing not his at least.”

“And supposedly I’m the stubborn one,” Mary muttered. “If you want to make some sandwiches, I’m almost done down here. I don’t want to spread the soup too thin.”

Dean nodded and handed her the sweater he had folded last. “Sounds good, anything in particular?”

“Just don’t let him trick you into letting him have the salami, his doctor says he needs to watch the fats,” Mary warned.

Dean perched against the edge of the steps, listening. He slapped the banister and headed back upstairs. “On it.”

The kitchen’s layout hadn’t changed in thirty years and Dean quickly set up an assembly line with poultry, condiments, lettuce and tomatoes. He tucked the cheese with the processed deli meat back in the drawer, hiding the temptation from John. But not before stealing a slice for his and Mary’s sandwiches. He set the table, like hundreds of times before. John’s spot was the head of the table, Mary to his left. Dean set his own plate on John’s right, a seat he fought Sam for more often than not.

Dean stirred the pot, which was much more a vat, of chicken noodle soup. John’s approach was announced by the steady clink of his cane on the hardwood floor of the hallway. Dean pulled out John’s chair before settling down to his heaping sandwich and extra large bowl of soup.

John lifted the top tier of his sandwich, judging the contents. “She got to you, didn’t she?”

Dean just chewed purposely and gave John innocent eyes.

“Figures,” John muttered before bellowing through the house. “Mary! Soup’s ready.”

They ate comfortably, fighting the cold outside with the warmth of the familiarity of a shared meal. The grease from the chicken made bubbles in the broth and Dean blew across the surface mixing them back in. Meanwhile Mary made small talk and John teased her about her part time job. 

“Well, I need to get out of the house, or we’d kill each other, you know that,” Mary flicked John’s ear as she cleared their bowls. 

“How’s that going?” Dean asked, eyes fixed on his mother’s face. Panic clogged his ears at the thought of never seeing her again.

“‘S fine. People are picky, but it isn’t bad for what it is. Better than being behind a desk or answering the phone,” Mary explained of her work at the local sporting goods store. “Friday will be nuts, lots of sales, but it’s not like we would have been doing anything anyway.”

“So, Bobby and Ellen’s on Thursday?” Dean verified.

“Yup, dinner’s at 1. He says you’re on pie duty?” John asked, surprised.

“That I am. Sam’s stuck with sides, so please remind him. I don’t want to show up and only have rolls and turkey,” Dean asked Mary.

“Can do. We’re bringing the---,” Mary started.

“Cranberry sauce,” Dean and John said in unison.

“And the wine!” Mary said in dismay at their laughter. “Jerks.”

John and Dean grinned as Mary rolled her eyes. 

“So, was that everything? It seemed like you had something to hash out with us,” John asked Dean, picking up the last of his sandwich.

“Yeah, mostly. I gotta check with Ellen first, but I might be bringing somebody along,” Dean rushed out. He tipped his bowl back, finishing the final dregs.

“A special someone?” Mary asked delicately, looking at John in hope.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Dean grunted, standing to grab another sandwich.

“Well, is it somebody we know?” Mary prodded, not trying to be too pushy, but obviously curious. “Dean, why are we just now hearing about this?”

Mary’s tone had shifted to apprehension, Dean felt their silent conversation behind his back as he slapped the ingredients together. He shrugged in response, unable to find a proper jumping off point.

He tried to remain casual, but the dred had clawed back up. Without enough wherewithal to speak, Dean sat back down and ate, drawing out his confession to the point of confusion. 

John chuckled at Mary’s suspicion. “He’s nervous. Let the boy get it out.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the phrase. “I’m thirty six, Dad,” he said through a mouthful.

“Is that right? Coulda fooled me.” John tisked his tongue. Mary ignored his teasing tone.

“Dean, what’s the matter? What’s this girl’s problem that’s making you act so--- cagey all the sudden?” Mary asked anxiously. John slipped Mary’s hand into his, silently soothing her as they waited for Dean’s answer.

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Dean started, sitting back, and shooting for blase. “Turns out I actually like guys, too. So, uh, there’s no problem with a girl. I just wanted to bring, um, this guy I’ve been seeing, Benny, to Bobby and Ellen’s.”

Mary inhaled and clenched John’s hand. John stopped stroking Mary’s arm and twisted in his seat. Dean exhaled slowly, like a pin prick in a deflating balloon, he couldn’t take any of it back. Dean took a chance and looked out through his lashes, face tilted towards his plate. First to Mary’s blue worry and then a flicker to John’s almost black disbelief.

John swallowed and ducked low enough to force Dean’s eyes onto his. "You tellin' me you take it up the ass, is that what you're sayin?"

"Jesus. John!" Mary reproached. But neither man's glare faltered. The dark challenge in John's eyes caused Dean's lips to turn up in a silent snarl.

Dean finally broke the silence. "You really want me to answer that?" 

"I think I have a right to know exactly the kind of man my son is," John countered.

Mary stood abruptly. “He's your son! What's the matter with you?! You asking Sam his jerkin' habits now that he's single, while you're at it?!" She went to the sink, bowing over it as if it would cleanse the images the conversation had conjured.

“Oh, hell, that’s not the point,” John muttered.

Dean had been arrested in high school for drag racing. The whole ride home from the police station he was worried what his dad was gonna do to him once they got home, it was the same quiet rage that had terrified Dean as a child. But it was Mary’s disappointment when they walked in the door that tore into Dean to the point of scarring. He could live with his father’s anger, Sam had taught Dean how to slowly stand up to John over the years.

But Dean didn’t know if he could live in the shadow of Mary’s disappointment. He needed somebody to see him as himself, not just a screw up or a queer. 

Dean sighed. "I am your son. But if you can't handle this, Dad. I don't think you have any right to know me anymore." He looked from Mary to John as the last sentence left his mouth. Maybe he was asking too much after all.

Everyone in the room froze. But not even an ultimatum like that could stop John Winchester from digging himself deeper. "Christ, son, Jo really did a number on you, didn't she? Made you turn tail to the other team all together."

"Leave Jo out of this,” Dean spit out as he stood up. “This is about me and who I'm with now." He stalked the long way around the table, shoving chairs in as he went. He approached Mary alone, carefully, one terrified animal to another. "You'd love him, Mom. He cooks, runs his own business, even got an old Harley in the garage."

Mary couldn't hide her tears, but she tried to smile through them for Dean's sake. "Sounds like a catch, sweetie. But what matters is if you love him. You don't need our say so."

"Don't I?" Dean replied sadly before glancing over Mary’s shoulder to John. "You know Jo told me to give you the finger if you couldn’t see how happy I am. How important Benny is to me. And maybe she's right. But I wanted this to work. I wanted to keep the family together. That's why I'm here. The rest is up to you, Old Man."

Dean kissed his mother on the cheek, between murmured reassurances and left without another word to John. He teetered on the brink, somewhere between busting his knuckles against the cold glass of the impala’s window and losing his lunch on the frostbitten ground. Somehow, Dean made it into the solitude of the driver’s seat before he broke down and sobbed. The only saving grace he got was when his mother's voice roared from inside the house.

Dean dragged the salt and snot from his face with a heavy palm and started the engine. He couldn't stay there, but he didn't know where to go either. He just drove.

    Dean pulled into the parking lot at The Pearly Gates on autopilot. He’d spent the afternoon equally suppressing and dissecting his conversation with his parents as he kept it even between the lines of two lane country roads. Now, Dean was ready to be somebody else, to make drinks and flirt and just forget everything that had happened.

    The college football crowd was winding down, which allowed Dean some time to catch up with the day shift bartenders Garth and Jody. Back before Cas got blindsided with the responsibility of business ownership, Cas, Dean, Ash and Artie would claim a booth near the pool tables and blow their grocery money every weekend. When Sam moved back after law school he and Mick joined the crowd that were regularly praised for paying for Jody’s son’s braces.

    Garth had been the first dragged from the friend pool to fill the schedule when Cas’s brother dropped off the face of the earth. Though Garth volunteered, Dean knew it was just out of the goodness of his heart, not a need for extra cash. 

    “Here he is!” Garth announced Dean’s arrival. Luckily for Dean, Garth was pouring a beer otherwise he would have been wrapped in one of Garth’s spider monkey-like hugs. A few regulars in the corner raised their glasses to Dean in greeting as he passed by with his company smile. Jody whipped by him, fresh out of the stock room with her arms full of their dollar bags of chips they sold to keep from having to run a full kitchen.

    “Look who’s early,” Jody exclaimed before dropping the load onto the back counter. “You trying to cut into my time there, Winchester?”

    “You know if you ever want more hours, you just gotta ask,” Dean offered suggestively, strolling behind the bar.

    Jody sputtered dramatically, “And work nights? No, thank you.”

    “It was worth a shot,” Dean replied, shrugging at Garth who knew better.

    Jody sighed and cocked her head. “You’re cute, but you’re not that cute.”

    Dean ducked his head against the compliment as she patted his arm apologetically. 

    “Want me to split your tips before you go?” Dean asked, bending out of his jacket.

    “That’d be lovely,” Jody answered, sorting the chips by kind. “Garth get’s an extra twenty because Bess and Donna were ‘round.”

    “Look at you, Mr. Slick,” Dean teased as he grabbed the old milk bottle filled with mostly singles. Garth blushed.

    “You know what they say Dean-o, flattery is everything,” Garth explained. Dean, who routinely had the most tips out of any of the staff, including Bela, just nodded at the quirky dude. Dean doled out their shares and washed up before officially punching in. 

    Jody was gone as soon as Anna arrived, but Garth waited for Jack to show before leaving her and Dean on their own. It was seven o’clock before Cas arrived instead of his unreliable nephew.

    “Everything alright?” Dean asked knowingly as Cas hung his trench coat on a broken notch on the rail beside the server’s station.

    “Jack is under the weather,” Cas explained blandly. Dean eyed the windows, taking in the light flurries that danced in the streetlight. “I guess I’ll have to do tonight.”

    It was a surprisingly unremarkable shift, the weather kept traffic bearable even after Anna’s shift ended at midnight. Dean walked her out the back to her car, like he always did as the plow eased out of the parking lot. 

    “You gonna be alright with him for the rest of the night?” Anna whispered before they breached the cold. Her big brown eyes held more mischief than worry. 

    “Goodnight, Anna,” Dean drew out as he held the door sternly. 

    “Night, Dean,” Anna chuckled. Dean watched her tiptoe around the icy patches and make it to her old Tahoe. He made sure it started before heading back behind the bar, and three more hours with Castiel. 

    The speakers were set lower than usual to balance their minimal customers. On his shifts, Dean had always insisted on having control over the musical selection. So when he walked into a pop singer’s version of mopey folk he did a double take before bee lining for the stereo. 

    “Please, don’t,” Cas’s simply requested from somewhere to Dean’s right. “I kind of like this song, but more importantly one of the customer’s requested a change of station.”

    Dean eyed the patrons like suspects in a line up, uncertain who would blaspheme in such a way. No one seemed particularly guilty and he had to let it go. Between drinks, Dean washed glasses in the small sink behind the bar until Cas was finally able to start his nightly paperwork. The last couple paid their tab just after 1:30, leaving them holding their breaths in hope as they started to put up the chairs. 

    “Is it often this quiet?” Cas wondered aloud, “I don’t recall Saturday’s business to dwindle so.”

    Dean smiled to himself; leave it to Cas to look a gift horse of a slow night in the mouth. “No, man, this is not the usual. But, it worked out. And thanks for filling in for the kid, I know you don’t like getting your hands dirty.”

    Cas quietly beamed at Dean’s gratitude before pausing at the not so subtle jab at the end. They went through the remaining end of day routine in silence. Dean turned off the faux neon signs in the windows to signal the early close as Cas handled the money. Dean would usually even out the till and split tips with Jack, leaving the deposit for Cas to handle the next day. Instead he was left with cleaning detail as the boss man did the accounting.

    Before long Dean was rolling the dirty mop bucket back to the office/store room/ kitchen/ employee area. Exhaustion had eaten at Dean’s internal walls, leaving him on the slippery edge between slap-happy and zombie. He hummed to keep his eyes open, waiting on Cas to finally call it a night and let Dean clock out.

    “We don’t talk anymore,” Cas said abruptly, without looking up from the cash machine. Dean’s head shot up, concern furrowing his features. “In fact, I’m prone to think you don’t like me at all, Dean.”

    “What do you mean, we’re talking right now,” Dean downplayed defensively. Cas glanced up over his desk, mild surprise evident. Cas always seemed such a mystery to Dean, from his social awkwardness to his blunt observations. Dean had come to envy Cas’s almost innocent lack of need to perform for others, to be anyone but himself. He had forgotten that Cas would read into his demeanor in the uncanniest of ways.

    “True, we are. But are we?” Cas typed the code into the safe and waited for the time delayed entry. “We used to hang out, watch football, play pool, or cards even.”

    “We’ve got bowling every week, man,” Dean wrung out the mophead and latched it onto the rack on the wall. He was trying to remember the last time he and Cas had fun, just the two of them and couldn’t recall a single occurrence over the past year.

    “I miss you. I miss my friend,” Cas replied sadly. “And I don’t know what I did to ruin it, but I want you to know that I didn’t mean to.”

    Dean closed his eyes and grimaced. “Hey, no, it’s not like that,” Dean started. He walked over and leaned against the edge of the desk, assertive reassurance written all over his face. “Look, I’m tired. Working all week and then coming here is kicking my ass. So I don’t have a lot of free time or brain capacity to hang out like we used to. But I’m doing my best, man.”

    Cas looked like a confused puppy, eyes drooping and head tilted. “That isn’t it. There’s something else, something you’re not telling me?”

    Dean huffed and shook his head, hands raised in exasperation. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I like you, okay? We’re still--- you know--- buddies.”

    “Buddies,” Cas said it like it was a war crime.

    “Yeah, man, friends. Do you need me to pull up a dictionary on my phone?!” Dean was getting anxious. He didn’t know what exactly had set Cas down this path of questioning, but he was certain he needed it to end. So much for a quiet night.

    After a few weighted stares, Cas squinted and turned them down a different path. “Did me employing you negatively affect our relationship? Should I not have asked that of you?” 

    “Wait, that would have stopped you?” Dean asked, surprised by Cas’s sudden, if extremely late, realization.

    “I wouldn’t knowingly do anything to hurt our friendship, Dean. Has working here hindered you?” Cas asked apologetically.

    Dean’s mouth dropped open and his shoulders slumped. “Yeah, man. Working here--- everyone is great, don’t get me wrong--- but man I need a break. I wanted to help out here or there, but I’ve got no time for a life if I stay on.”

    “I see,” Cas sat back, poorly masking his own discomfort with Dean’s confession. “Look, I know I’m not the best at what I do. But I find it very hard to trust new people. Employees, especially, tend to let me down. I guess--- I guess I’ve relied on you for too long, Dean. I’m sorry if I’ve taken advantage.”

    Dean chuckled. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded if you had.”

    Missing the joke, Cas continued, “I am taking this conversation as your verbal resignation. I hope you will stay on for the customary two weeks time?”

    “You’re serious?” Dean asked, stunned.

    “You’re unhappy. I don’t want to cause you anymore grief,” Cas replied simply.

    “It wasn’t that bad, Cas.--- But, you gotta do something about Jack. Man up and light a fire under his ass, or just kick him to the curb until he’s ready to live up to the family business. You need to hire people who want to be here,” Dean offered. 

    Cas nodded dejectedly. “I know, I just have an awful gauge for people’s reliability from a simple interview. And past employers rarely ‘spill the tea’ as Bela would say.”

    Dean giggled, but stopped himself once he saw the worry in Cas’ eyes. “Hey, what if somebody does the interviews for you? I bet Jody would weed out the bad seeds before their asses ever hit the bar stool.”

    Cas was surprised by that option. “That could work. She is very intimidating.”

    “Right?!” Dean exclaimed, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. “So, we’re really doing this? Two weeks and I’m out?”

    “Yes, Dean. You’ve done more than I should have asked of you.” Cas stood and extended his hand.

    Dean grabbed it and pulled Cas in for a hug, their bound hands stuck between them. “Thanks, man. But, I’m glad it worked out. It will work out. This is gonna be good.”

    “And we’ll---,” Cas asked as they broke apart.

    “We’ll still be friends. Hell, if I’m free maybe we can reclaim our old table every once in a while,” Dean offered, patting Cas’s shoulder. A genuine smile crept across Dean’s face for the first time all day.

    “I’d like that,” Cas admitted as the safe alerted his time was up.

    The next morning, Sam held the door for Dean who was smirking as they walked in. Exhausted and needing the comfort of his favorite diner to fill his empty stomach, Dean agreed to Sunday breakfast with a seemingly none-the-wiser Sam, certain he'd be missing their weekly dinner with his parents for possibly the first time.

"Not that one. Let's see if there's a spot in the back," Sam muttered as Dean tried sitting in the first open booth he saw. 

"What? Why?" Dean groaned, but straightened up and followed Sam passed the bustling counter.

Sam lifted his chin and motioned Dean to the second to last spot. Slightly annoyed, Dean threw himself onto the bench seat, only to have Sam slide beside him, caging him in. 

"Glad you boys could make it," the all too familiar drawl of their father's voice greeted them from across the table.

Dean looked at Sam and cursed beneath his breath. Sam had the nerve to look guilty, but his puppy dog eyes didn't hold an ounce of potency now.

"Wow, Dad, I had no idea you'd be here. Funny coincidence, hey, Sammy?" Dean snarked.

"Shut up," Sam grumbled.

"I made him drag you here, Dean. So if you wanna be pissed, be pissed at me," John began. "I ordered your usuals, to give us some privacy. It seems we need to talk."

Tagging: @flamencodiva​​ @dolphincliffs​​ @dontshootmespence​​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​​ @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @wingedcatninja​​ @defenderrosetyler​​ @ericaprice2008  @crashdevlin​​  @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary​​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​​ @there-must-be-a-lock @tatted-trina6​ @cracksinthewalls​​ @atc74​​    

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Next Chapter: Giving Up

#A Gentlemen's Agreement #bi!dean #dean winchester fanficiton #dean/benny #dean x benny #coming out #john and mary #aga: spit it out #spn fanfic #spn au #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural au

[astridthevalkyrie]

Do you think AOT is better than FMAB?

sorry not sorry for the blunt answer but no, never, not in a million years, not even close, not for a number of reasons.

few reasons under the cut, because apparently I’m doing this instead of focusing in class. obviously there will be spoilers for both shows, and obviously some of this will be based on personal preference.

1. Genocide/Oppression

so both shows have some vivid imagery of nazi germany. bradley is addressed as the fuhrer in fmab, and the eldians wear stars on their sleeves in aot. and even if the aot writer wasn’t pretty much confirmed to be a nationalist and raging anti-semite, it’s rather painfully obvious which show handles it better.

in aot, the eldians are oppressed because they can turn into titans and were originally trying to take over the world or something, which is so blatantly anti-semitic that it’s terrible. shows are allowed to tackle these kinds of topics, but they should handle them well, not be a stand in for nazi propaganda. this is something so many fucking shows do wrong whenever they make an oppressed group of people - there’s always somehow a reason for having them be oppressed. take bbc merlin. wizards are oppressed because they can do magic and so they’re dangerous, just like how eldians can turn into titans and so they’re dangerous, and that’s a bad thing to imply, because it implies that jewish people somehow deserved what happened to them and that’s a fucking dangerous idea to put into an already anti-semitic world.

and that’s exactly why i was so relieved and appreciative of how fmab did the battle of ishval. it is clear who the bad guys are in that scenario, and it’s clear that it was never deserved and that the soldiers who carried it out are war criminals and deserve to be put into jail. riza says as much herself. while i think scar shouldn’t have been as guilted as he was (sure, he shouldn’t go after innocent people, but him killing winry’s parents is not comparable to what happened to him and doesn’t put all of them on equal footing), i was pleasantly surprised that he lived and wasn’t killed off in some stupid form of “redemption.” if roy deserved to live, so did scar, a hundred times over.

2. Characters

characters in fmab are done ridiculously better than in aot. let’s compare similar characters!

edward and eren - the protagonists

up until the third season onwards, eren is very one dimensional and uninteresting. he’s entertaining, but his one and only goal is killing the titans and it’s super frustrating because they lay down the groundwork for more, but it’s never really addressed. show more how he cares about his friends, show him dealing with his trauma through anger and how it’s unhealthy. (actually, a lot of problems could be fixed if they showed more of the cadets’ training days. i feel like i wasn’t feeling as betrayed by annie and reiner and bertholdt because i never really felt they were that close to eren.)

ed is a delightful main character. he too is angry and doesn’t mind talking with his fists, but at the same time, he’s starchly against killing anyone and has multiple goals. ofc his primary one is getting their bodies back, but when he finds himself in the conspiracy about amestris, he doesn’t hesitate before making that his problem as well. every relationship he has is wonderful. i could get bored with eren on the screen, i wasn’t bored with ed.

armin and alphonse - the deuteragonists

i’m sorry but armin is literally just “the smart one.” that’s it. he’s also the dreamer but it only comes up when they’re about to do something dangerous.

i feel like i don’t even need to go into how good of a character al is? he’s very obviously multifaceted and the epitome of sweet and badass at the same time.

winry and mikasa - the love intests-ish

i don’t like referring to either of them like that, but while mikasa is the tritagonist (or deuteragonist, her and armin can interchange there), winry is not. 

and surprise, surprise, this is actually where i’m not so sure winry comes out on top. mikasa is, in my opinion, the most interesting out of the trio. she also has a very single-minded goal, but seeing her interact with other characters (armin, jean, levi) who either fall in line or disagree with that goal is fun to watch. she’s also obviously super competent and i have a thing for competent characters.

winry is a good character and i love her, but it’s always bothered me how out of place her scenes feel in relation to the entire show. and as much as i know it doesn’t deter her agency, there’s just something off about ed telling her to have an apple pie waiting for them. it actually brings in one of my few problems with fmab. while its female are pretty good, they’re far from perfect, and that’s because nearly all of them exist because of their relation to the more important male character. winry is ed’s mechanic and the elrics’ family friend. riza is roy’s lieutenant. lan fan is ling’s bodyguard. izumi is the elrics’ teacher. i’m not saying that’s all they are, but this is a major part of their role in the story (olivier and mei stand out as female characters with goals relating to themselves and not a guy around them.)

so who’s the better character? mikasa is more fierce and winry has better lines that aren’t just calling out the protag’s name. i’m gonna give it to winry, but by a short shot.

roy and levi - the op fan favorites

this one’s much easier. roy is not just a badass who’s also the hero’s direct superior like levi is, he’s a person with clearcut goals and weaknesses and he has to make sacrifices and work for what he wants. levi has all the makings for a great character, a tragic backstory and a chill personality, but he doesn’t have a reason to stay in the scouts, he just...does. out of loyalty to erwin, i guess? it’s not clear and it’s even worse if you don’t watch the ova. roy’s reasons are clear and relatable. he also has a dorky and endearing side, plus the political side of things he brings to fmab is interesting and an equally important part of the story. his fight with envy is satisfying and thrilling. levi’s fight with the beast titan, while it is super well animated and cool, kiiiinda falls flat because there was no set-up for him being the one to take the beast titan down (should have been connie). it also ends a bit too fast, honestly.

but hey, you say, aren’t you the one writing 15k worth of fanfiction for levi within two weeks? didn’t see you writing that much for roy. yeah, well, unfortunately, my attraction doesn’t determine the better character and i never said i was proud of this, please leave me alone.

there’s more comparisons i could make - carla and trisha, hohenheim and grisha (ha, trisha and grisha rhyme), roy can also be compared to erwin, there’s multple side characters, but fmab wins, you guys get it.

3. The Story, Plot, Deaths

listen, i get it. aot is a bloody, brutal show and you’re not supposed to get attached to characters. i’m not gonna complain about pointless deaths, because that in itself is the point. it’s like twd or got, it’s gonna have lots of death. but the deaths don’t have to be so stupid. i’m specifically thnking of levi’s squad, because the way they die is so dumb. gunther should not be taken down by a cadet, petra shouldn’t be flying so close to the ground, oluo should know not to engage the female titan alone. these were elite titan killers, they knew not to be stupid. there were ways to kill them off without making them look so stupid. and if there’s not, consider not killing them off just for shock value.

fmab’s deaths mean something, especially since one of its central messages is that life is precious, no matter whose it is. everyone’s life means something and no one dies in vain.

.

there’s more i could go into, but i just spent my entire classtime doing this and now my second one for the day is about to start, sooo i think i’ll stop here. thanks for the ask!

#fmab #anti aot #anti fmab #at some parts #aot is anti-semitic please be careful when watching it and think about the media you're consuming

[janicho88]

Falling For You -Part 2

October

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female!Reader,  Dean x Lisa(past),  Female!Reader x OMC Justin(past)

Word Count-4008

Warning- Mentions of cheating, little angst, some swearing, fluff. This is going to be a bit of a slow burn. Haunted woods.  Talk of trying to fake a pregnancy, manipulation, trying to steal from significant other/ falsify documents,  Lisa is awful, Justin isn’t much better, talk of being pressured into doing things you don’t want to.  I think that is it

A/N- I had an idea for a one shot, and giving a backstory to Dean and the Reader meeting took on a life of its own. This story is AU, and un beta’d.

Summary- After being burned before you had sworn off finding love for now. Coming home from work one night there is a strange man pounding on your door.  Neither of you knew what this meeting would lead to.

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The next week kept you busy at work and not giving you much free time in the evening.  Coming or going you always kept an eye out for your new friend though, not seeing him again till the weekend.  Heading back to your apartment after your Saturday morning workout you ran into Dean coming out of his brother’s apartment. 

“Hi stranger, how is everything coming together for you?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s coming.  I found a job, starting a week from Monday.  Still looking for a place though, guess I’ll be crashing with Sam a little longer and putting my stuff in storage up here till I find something.  Work slow down for you yet?”

“Congrats on the new job!  No, not yet.  A family emergency came up, and our new person can’t start till next week.  At least there is a light at the end though.  I hate to run on you, but I’m supposed to be meeting Meg, and I really need a shower.  Talk to you later?”

“Sure, see ya around.”

With the wedding dress found it was time to find Bridesmaid dresses.  Hopefully this went a little better.  Her wedding colors were red, black and silver, you would be happier with a black dress, but Meg was thinking red.  The color of fire, this wedding was going to be hot she said. 

Thankfully you and the 2 bridesmaids Ruby and Sarah were on the same page about finding one and getting done.  None of you wanted to try on tons of dresses. Meg actually approving of the third one you found.  They were free to leave after that, you got to go help her set up a gift registry.  Your fingers were crossed these next six months until the April wedding went fairly quick. Done for the day, she suggested meeting up with Cas and his best man so you could finally meet him.

The guys were meeting you at a local pizza shop so you could grab dinner and talk.  Walking in with Meg you quickly saw Cas, and getting closer to the table, recognized the spiky sandy brown haired man across from him.  Sliding in next to Dean you mentioned how he never said anything about being the best man, when you said you were the maid of honor. 

“Sorry, I think my head was still on other topics then.” He answered you with a small smile

“Wait, you two already know each other?”  Cas questioned looking between you both.

“Yeah, I live across the hall from his brother, remember Cas?”

“I do now.”

“No one ever told me that you and Sam knew each other from Kansas though.”

“I guess we didn’t think about it.”

It was an enjoyable evening out with your friends.  You found out more about Dean’s new job, he found a small auto shop hiring a head mechanic.  The owner, Bobby, had done most of the work himself but was looking to cut back and possibly retire in a few years.  If Dean was still around then and interested he might sell the shop to him.  There was a part time mechanic working there also, Benny.  Dean seemed to think they would get along well.

Dean gave you a ride back so Meg could take Cas with her since they lived in the opposite direction as you two.  “I don’t think I told you last week, but I really like your car.”

“Thanks, Baby is my one true girl.”

“Baby?”

Patting the top of the dash Dean glanced over and smiled at you, “That’s her name.”

You just smiled back, “It’s very nice Dean, I hope the two of you will be very happy together. 

Closer to home Dean told you he was renting a car and leaving for Kansas tomorrow.  He would turn the car in there and drive a Uhaul back with Sam the following weekend.  Apparently his brother wasn’t the best driver and he didn’t trust him to drive that far with his car or the uhaul filled with his belongings.  Sam was flying home later in the week to meet up with him.  Giving him a quick hug outside your apartment door you wished him safe travels and good luck, telling him you would see him when he got back. 

Quickly entering your apartment and shutting the door, you were trying to figure out why you hugged him, and why you suddenly were overthinking it.  You were friends, friends hugged right?  No reason to give it a second thought.

Friday night there was a knock on your door, but you weren’t expecting anyone.  Opening it you were surprised to find Jess on the other side with a pizza box and a bottle of wine.

“Hey, I thought I’d see if you were up for some company.  Sam and Dean started the drive back this afternoon, so it’s just me over there.”

“Sure!  Come on in.”  The two of you spent the evening watching bad romance moves and talking about the brothers.  Jess had known Sam since they were in undergrad at Stanford, and had a few stories to tell you about both of them.  It was nice to learn a little more about Dean.  

When Jess had more wine in her she opened up about Dean’s breakup.  “I met the cheating bitch a few times and never cared for her.  She thought she was better than everyone, always pushing Dean to buy her things, jewelry and fancy clothes.  Apparently she started asking Dean some questions that he thought were weird but told himself she must have been taking an interest in things he liked for once.”

She paused to take a drink of wine. “When Dean was packing up after he kicked her out he discovered some stuff in his safe had been moved around, insurance papers, information on stocks he owns, and even his will was in a new place.  I guess he didn’t think much of it; he was too caught up in the cheating mess, till a lawyer's office called the house like a week later and left a message saying they needed to come in and sign the last paper.  Lisa had either made a copy of his signature or forged it and was trying to put things in her name and change his will for her to inherit even if they weren’t married.  He called Sam because he needed legal help to straighten the mess up and make sure she got nothing.  

Sam went down one weekend and helped him clean it up.  They were looking up something on Dean’s laptop and one of them typed in a wrong word or start of one and some crazy past searches came up.  They looked for more and found searches relating to Dean and what he owns, what his business was worth.  There was even a search on how to fake a pregnancy test.  Sam thinks she was going to try and trick Dean into marrying her if she couldn’t change the papers on her own.  She was stupid enough to use Dean’s computer.  His parents don’t know, he doesn’t want them too.”      

“The first night I met Dean I called him by his last name and he asked something about how I knew and if I looked him up.  I get why now.”

“Dean’s a lot more guarded now.”  She gave you a lot of information to take in, no wonder he wasn’t looking to date again.

The next afternoon a commotion in the hall drew your attention.  Opening the door you found Sam and Dean struggling with some boxes they were both carrying across the hall.  You asked if they needed help, but neither heard you over Sam complaining about Dean not knowing how to pack a box.  Dean was in turn instructing Sam to be careful with the valuables. Seeing you just before he turned inside Dean gave you a wink and said he would talk to you later.

A few hours later a knock at the door had you hoping for a green eyed man on the other side.  Opening it you had gotten your wish.  “Hey, I was heading out to grab some dinner.  Give Sam and Jess some time together, thought I’d see if you wanted to join me?”  

“I actually have lasagna in the oven, it should be done in 20.  Would you like to join me here?” 

Dean’s eyes lit up at the thought of a homemade meal and he readily accepted.  Entering your apartment he removed his coat and asked if he could help with anything.  Handing him the drink he asked for, you told him everything was all set.  Salad was made and the pasta and bread were in the oven.  You washed some dishes while waiting and Dean grabbed a towel to help dry.  The two of you working together easily and talking about Dean’s trip back to Kansas.  When dinner was ready you dished it up setting Dean’s infront of him.  You noticed he wasn’t a big fan of the salad though.

“This is great, my mom isn’t much of a cook so it’s simple meals or take out at their house.  Sam and Jess cook, but it’s not real food.  He gets these plant or veggie burgers, kale and some green shakes.  I need real meat and carbs.”

“Well, you are welcome to stop over here when it gets to be too much. I’m sure I could find something that would save you.”

“Thanks sweetheart, I may take you up on that.”

When you were both finished and everything was cleaned you invited Dean to stay and watch a movie.  It was to give Sam and Jess more time alone you told yourself.  Dean was just a friend, you were hanging out with. 

A short time later your oven timer went off again and you disappeared to pull out the desert you had made.  Grabbing some ice cream from the freezer and cutting into the hot treat you once again plated it up and took some to Dean warning him it was still hot.  You didn’t think Dean’s eyes could go any bigger than they did when you handed him the fresh baked apple pie.  Taking a giant bite his eyes almost rolled back in his head.

“This is incredible, one of the best I’ve ever had.  Trust me I’ve had a lot of pie.”

“I’m sure it’s not really that special, but thanks anyways.”  

“No, I’m serious. Love me some apple.”

“Fall is a good time for apples here.  I would love to go to the orchard some time and pick my own, or even just hang out there one day.  I’ve gone a few times as a kid, but I haven’t been in years.”

“You just want to go hang out with apple trees?”

“Not exactly, there is a lot to do this time of year. Apple picking, pumpkin patches, corn maze, hayrides and a store where they sell baked goods,  fresh produce and other things.  I just think it would be fun sometime.  Maybe next year, I’ll find someone to go with me.”

“Tell you what, you pick a weekend next year and I’ll go with you.  Speaking of weekends, do you have anything going on next Saturday?”

“Um, a baby shower for a friend in the early afternoon. Then catching up on some work around here, why?”

“One of Jess’ friends is having a big Halloween party, she invited me in hopes of getting Sam to lighten up about it.  He’s not a fan of Halloween.  Anyway she said I could bring a friend if you want to go.  It’s a costume party in some old barn.”

You thought about it for a minute.  Was he asking you out, neither of you were supposed to be looking to date right now. He did say bring a friend though.  “I think I can manage that, I’ll have to see if I have a costume.”

“Great! I think she said it starts at 8, there’s supposed to be some haunted woods too.  Not a corn maze, but it can still be fun.  I’ll let you know what time she wants to leave, you don’t care if we ride together right?”

“Nope, not at all.”  At least if you were with his brother and Jess it wasn’t a date.  Why were you so worried anyway?  Dean left a short time later and you cleaned up and got ready for bed. 

The new girl you were training, Anna was finally starting to catch on in her second week.  This meant you were able to get more of your work done, and not have to stay too late.  You needed to find a costume and a baby gift sometime before Saturday. Running into Jess in the hall one night, you asked if you needed to bring anything Saturday. There wasn’t anything, and she was  just happy that you were joining them. 

Since you had just over a week until Halloween many of the costumes were already picked over, you weren’t looking to meet up with anyone so you were also trying to avoid anything too revealing.  Plus it was outside in the evening, and temps were falling so you didn’t want to freeze either.  Finally finding something you deemed would work at the third store you tried.

Saturday came faster than you had hoped.  The shower went well, Kelly was so excited to meet her little boy in a few short months.  You couldn’t wait to spoil him!  Doing a quick grocery store run, you headed home to try and clean a little before you had to get ready.  When 7:30 rolled around you were ready for the knock on your door. 

Opening the door you bit back a laugh at the sight before you, “Howdy Sheriff.”

Dean shook his head sending you a fake smile, “This was one of the few adult costumes left.”

“That’s what you get for waiting till yesterday to get your outfit Dean,”  Sam rolled his eyes, also trying not to laugh at his brother’s attire. He and Jess were dressed as Sandy and Danny from Greece.  

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I had this awesome Batman costume, but it’s in one of the boxes in storage and couldn't find it.  Oh well, cowboys are awesome too.”

“Yeah, but Dean you're a toy cowboy,”  Sam wasn’t able to hide the smile that time.

He sent Sam a glare before turning back to you, “I’m still a cowboy and a sheriff, I can still protect the princess here.  All ready?”

“Yep, I’m good to go.”

You rode in the back with Jess, Dean pouting up front because Sam decided to take his own car instead of riding in Dean’s.  Jess was telling you Sam didn’t want to dress up at all, but she was able to talk him into Danny since it was his own clothes except for the leather jacket and just some hair dye and gel. 

Arriving at Jess’ friends you and Dean followed behind as they led the way to the barn.  They had definitely put a lot of work into the decorations.  There were pumpkins and jack-o’-lanterns everywhere.  Some real, some plastic and other scary Halloween creatures along with orange lights strung all around. 

 There was a dance floor with the DJ already playing and round tables and chairs set up around the floor and a buffet in the back.  

You had never been to a Halloween party this big before.  Jess introduced you and Dean to some of her friends who Sam already knew.  Dean grabbed the two of you drinks and you sat down at a table taking everything in.  This was a little more than you were expecting.  

Sam found you a short time later, Jess was ready to go through the haunted woods they had set up and wanted to know if you two wanted to join.

“I’m game.  How about you, Y/N? Sheriff Dean will protect you.”

“Who can turn that down?”  Scary things weren’t your favorite, but you had a feeling if you said no Dean wouldn’t have gone either and you didn’t want him to miss out.  Justin had hated how some things would scare you, and you wouldn’t want to do something.  According to him you would ruin his fun, you weren’t going to do that to Dean. If you were with the three of them it shouldn’t be too bad.  

Wrong, wrong, oh so wrong!  You were going to have nightmares for a month after that. Most of the actors scaring you had come from the front or side, so you had ended up in the back hiding behind Dean to avoid everyone.  Jess had turned around to say something to you when you noticed her eyes getting bigger.  Quickly turning around you were certain they could have heard your scream in Ohio.  There was a creepy looking person behind you wearing a mask with a white face, green teeth and red eyes holding a giant knife above your head.  You never heard him come up or had any idea he was following you. 

Hearing you scream Dean turned and pulled you close to his chest and then turned the two of you back around so you were no longer facing that character.  He kept you close until you were out of the woods.  When you went back to the barn he took you over to your seat before grabbing you some water.  Kneeling down in front of you, his green eyes carefully looking you over.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“You want to try that again?  Especially since you are still shaking?

“I’m really sorry.  I’m not the biggest fan of scary things.  That really caught me off guard.”  

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to ruin it for anyone else.  I’ll be fine, really.”  

“Sweetheart, we need to work on your communication skills.  First that bar, now this.  If something is going to affect you like this, you gotta say something.”

“I’m okay, really.  Sorry to ruin it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.  Sit here a minute I’ll be back.”  Dean walked off coming back a few minutes later with some food for both of you.  

Sitting next to Dean you stared at the plate he put in front of you before talking. 

 “Justin took me to Cedar Point one day with some friends of his, all other couples.  I’m terrified of heights and dropping too, he knew this beforehand.  I’m more of a spin me girl, as long as it’s not too far off the ground.  They were all excited about going on the biggest coaster there, I told them I would watch everyone’s stuff while they went.  This one takes your picture on the way down, one of the girls said if I wasn’t there some stranger would be in the picture with all of them.  Justin took me aside and said when I don’t participate in these things it makes him look bad and ruins his good time.  I should be a better girlfriend and do what he wants.”

“I would really like to introduce your ex to my fist.  If something is bothering you, I really want you to speak up, no matter what, okay.”

“Okay, thanks Dean.”

  When Sam and Jess caught back up to you, she pulled you out to the dance floor with her since her fiancé wasn’t interested.  The guys watched as the two of you enjoyed yourselves.

Arriving back at your apartment that night, Dean followed you in to make sure you were going to be alright.  You assured him you would be fine.  What you didn’t tell him was you were going to be sleeping with the lights on tonight.  He did a quick check of your apartment before going back across the hall.  

Halloween was the following Friday, Meg invited you over to her and Cas’ place to hang out while they handed out candy to the trick or treaters.  Cas had also invited Dean, Sam and Jess.  He must have told Dean you were coming because Dean offered to drive you over with them.

The phone in your pocket started going off snapping you out of your daydreams, “Hello.”

“Hey Y/N, are you still home?”

“Yeah, why what’s up Dean?”

“I’ve been knocking on your door for a few minutes now, everything okay?”

“Yeah,”  looking down you saw the time on your watch.  “I’m sorry I lost track of time. I was sitting on the patio and didn’t hear you.”  Rushing inside you locked the door behind you before quickly letting Dean in.  

“Sorry, let me grab these and I’m good to go.” Grabbing your Halloween sweatshirt and the two containers sitting on your counter you were headed back to the door.

“What’s in there?”

“Oh I got bored last night and made some Halloween sugar cookies and pumpkin cake bars with apple cider glaze for today.”

Dean just looked at you as you rode the elevator down to meet Sam and Jess, “What is that look for?”

“Well, are you going to give me one?”  You were a little lost and just stared back.  “Oh sorry, forgot the magic words, trick or treat.  May I have my treat now?” He asked, pointing to the containers.

“Oh sorry, sure, the bars are a little crumbly, but you can have a cookie now. 

He took a big bite of the orange pumpkin shaped cookie.  “It’s not your apple pie, but it’s very good, sweetheart.” 

The guys disappeared into the basement when you arrived, apparently there was some horror movie marathon on, you were just fine avoiding that.  You three ladies hung out in the living room so you would hear kids coming to the door, and watched the Halloweentown movies on TV.  Meg and Jess compared wedding notes and talked about their different frustrations.  Jess and Sam were getting married in July.

You were happy for your friends, but if you were being honest, also a little jealous.  They had found great guys, been with them for years, now they were getting ready to walk down the aisle to them.  You had thought by the time you were 27 you would be settling down too.  Instead you were swearing off dating right now.  Your Mr Right seems to have taken some wrong turns somewhere and wouldn’t ask for directions.  Apparently you zoned out from the conversation because both girls were looking at you.  “Sorry, what’s up?”

“I was saying I’m not sure I would be cut out for the matron of honor duties when you get married.  We all know I don’t have the patience.  You could have Jess, and we know Sam would be the best man, it would work out great.”

Yep, you definitely missed something. “Wait, when and who am I marrying, and why is Sam already the best man?”

“Really Y/N?”  Meg giving you her best bitch face, “when you and Dean get married.”

“You guys make such a great couple!  I’m so glad he found you!  Lisa was just awful to him from the start, and to cheat on him like that.”  

Lisa must be the reason he left Kansas, no one mentioned her name before.  “Guys we’re just friends, we aren’t a couple or even dating.  Neither one of us want to get back out there right now.”

“Y/N, you can’t let Justin ruin your chance at happiness, it’s been over four months now.  At some point you need to get back out there.  Deano is one of the good ones, you are going to regret it if you let him go.”

“Meg, Dean doesn’t want to date anyone either.  We really are just friends, just hanging out.”

When you walked away to hand out candy, Meg turned to Jess, “any idea how long those two are going to stay in denial about how they feel?”  Jess just shook her head as they both stared after you.

Part 3

Thank you for reading!

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