#want to punch him in the nuts a little less lately

[bensolosbluesaber]

Clueless (Steven Grant x f!reader)

Summary: You could have any man who walks into the bar, but the only one you want is completely clueless. Tonight you’ve had enough. Steven Grant fluff.

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader, squint for Jake Lockley and Marc Spector x f!reader

Warnings: DID

A/N: Based on this request. I’ve never done a fic with a song, but it was a fun challenge! Hope you like it!

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Steven’s back. The hot clueless one who sits at the bar drinking tonic water - without gin - and looks more out of place than an angel in hell. You have no idea why he comes here just to sit nervously in the corner, but you like to imagine it’s for you.

“She’s looking at you, Steven,” Marc is delighted by the whole situation; he’s the reason Steven comes here to sit nervously in the corner. 

“I don’t think so, mate,” Steven answers silently as he sips the water.

“For fuck’s sake. This is a bar. Drink some alcohol.”

“One battle at a time, Jake. Come on, Steven! She obviously has the hots for you dumbass. She’s fine as fuck. Do it for us three?”

“If you ever say ‘fine as fuck’ again, I’m going to punch us in the face,” Jake glowers.

The first beats of Ariana Grande’s ‘Nasty’ fill the bar. You’re up.

It’s your last song of the night, and as you roll your shoulders to prepare for the performance, a sudden burst of courage spreads through you. You’d been flirting with him for ages, calling him cute, telling him his accent is charming, but then maybe he thinks you’re just doing your job. Every time he’s here you make a point to chat with him, letting him talk and talk about Egyptian mythology and history until he gets all shy and assures you you can go. How can he be so fucking clueless? You don’t make time for just anyone while you’re at work.

Something inside you has just snapped, and you know exactly what you’re about to do. They hate when you switch songs at the last minute, but if it gets through to Steven you could care less.

“You got me all up in my feels in all kind of ways,” you sing as you move closer to Steven with a boldness that impresses even you. “I be tryna wait but lately I just wanna keep it real. No more playin’ safe…”

Everyone’s eyes are on you. So many options, men who ask you out with no hesitation, and yet the only one you’re interested in is stubbornly staring at his drink.

“Let’s take it all the way. I’m just sayin’…”

You run your hand across Steven’s shoulder lightly as you sing. His head jerks up to look at you, eyes wide and confused.

“She’s singing to you,” Jake’s New York accent invades Steven’s head. “Fuck, she’s hot.”

“She’s not! I mean she’s not singing to me. She is hot. She-”

“Idiot.”

“Tonight I wanna get nasty, What you waitin’ for…”

You’re sitting on the edge of the bar now, looking down at Steven’s cute little bewildered face. You’re already half way there, might as well go all in. You put a foot on his chair, sliding it back a little and turning him toward you. He’s looking at the floor when he could be looking up your skirt. This man was driving you nuts.

“Steven, look up!”

“Marc, no!”

“You’re like a whole constellation, swimming like you on vacation. Promise I’m still gonna love you when you wake up in the a.m…”

You sing the whole song to Steven and only to Steven, ignoring the dozens of other men  who are trying to catch your eye. Steven plays with his hands nervously, a red flush blossoming on his cheeks as the word ‘pussy’ slips out of your lips.

The song is almost over when he finally looks up at you, his eyes crashing into yours with a surprising intensity. He won’t even look down your shirt as you lean forward until your faces are scant inches from each other.

Nothing. God, you’re pissed as you slide off the bar and walk to the back, shooting smiles at a few others like you hadn’t just wasted a whole song on a clueless idiot.

“Don’t wanna wait on it. Tonight I wanna get nasty. Tonight I wanna get nasty.”

You smile at him when you finish, openly inviting him to just ask you out already, offer to buy you a drink, give you a compliment, something.

“She’s walking away,” Jake practically moans.

“She was doing her job,” Steven insists.

“I am trying so hard to get you laid,” Marc sighs. “I’m begging you, Steven. She adores you.”

“You know what, no,” you mutter to yourself and whirl back to Steven, dragging the chair beside him out with a loud scraping sound and crossing your arms. “Do you like me or not?”

“What?” Steven nearly drops his glass. “I mean… y-you’re quite lovely but, well, women don’t like me like that do they then?”

“Steven, you’re a catch,” Marc’s voice is surprisingly gentle.

“‘Jesus! I’ve been trying to get into your pants for weeks!” You could scream at him right now, as it is your voice is unnecessarily loud. “‘Women don’t like me like that.’ Who the fuck did you think I was singing Nasty to? That song, I chose it for you! You’re so oblivious. Fuck, Steven! I like you!”

He is just staring at you. Staring and staring with his mouth half open.

“You like me?” He finally breathes. “But there are better guys. Guys who are hitting on you and… and not a loser.”

To Steven, the entire thing makes no sense. Yes, Marc and Jake have been dragging him here for weeks, trying to hype him up in their own strange way, telling him you like him over and over. But he never believed them. Every guy here wanted you. You’re so far out of his league, it’s unfathomable that you would pay any attention to him. And yet you had.

“Fuck the other guys, Steven,” you say firmly but softly, a hint of sadness that Steven really thinks he’s a loser. “I want a man who has an English accent, loves Egyptian history, is a vegan,” and just to make sure he knows you’re talking about him, 

“And has Grant for a last name. That’s who I want in my bed.”

“Do not blow this!” Jake is yelling.

“Bloody hell,” Steven mutters, ignoring Jake entirely. “You’re serious?”

“Alright Jake, let’s give them some space.”

“Steven,” you reach out for his hand and squeeze lightly. “I have never been more serious.”

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x female!reader #steven grant fic #steven grant x you #steven grant x f!reader #moon knight #moon knight fic #fic requests #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant fluff

[whatawonderfulexistence--blog]

Not So Scary (Matthew Greywolf x GN! Reader FLUFF)

Ah, thank you for this request Anon, it was so fun!! I'm still learning how to write everyone's personality so hopefully this was alright, I plan on getting much better at writing for all of them, I just need some practice lol.

WARNINGS: Mentions of blood, mentions of open wounds, mentions of wound cleaning/dressing, reader punches someone in the face, swearing, FLUFF

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You let out an aggravated groan as you failed yet again to loosen the lug nut on your deflated tire. "Goddammit." You were late, you were asked to come help out at the Abbey’s booth at the farmers market this weekend. You were the head member of the Abbey’s garden committee, in Father Atilla’s eyes you were the best person to talk about the produce you were selling. At least you would be if you weren’t stranded in the Abbey’s parking lot. You dropped the tire iron with a loud clang and a frustrated sigh. The sun that was burning into your back was suddenly blocked out. You hesitantly looked over your shoulder, falling onto your ass at the sight of someone standing immediately behind you. “Good morning Father Matthew.” You hurriedly greeted him once you realized it was one of the members of the high clergy.

“It sounded like you dropped something, are you alright?” You were having trouble finding any words to say. Out of the entire high clergy Matthew probably intimidated you the most. A hulking mass of a man with a far more unpredictable personality than his brothers, you usually found yourself falling silent whenever you were in his presence.

“I’m fine.” You stutter, your voice coming out barely loud enough for him to hear. “I’m just having trouble changing my tire, I’m trying to get to the farmer’s market.” He looks between the flat and you sitting on the ground.

“I’m heading over there myself… Maybe I could give you a lift and we’ll worry about this when we get back.” He held a hand out to you, an invitation you were hesitant about taking. His fingers encase the entirety of your hand as it slips inside of his. He helps you from the ground, you trailing behind him as he heads to his car. You stiffly sit yourself in the passenger seat, wrapping your arms around you as you stare out the window. He clicks on the radio, taking the pressure away of a potential conversation, as the two of you pull out onto the road. On the way to the farmers market you both rode in silence. You noticed he kept glancing at you every so often.

"I don't bite, you can talk to me if you want to." You attempted to break the ice, letting out a little joke that caused him to chuckle.

"Sorry, I've been trying to think of something to say that'll make you less nervous." You let your eyes drift over to him, a soft smile on his lips. "I've heard a lot about you from Attila and Falk, both of them are really impressed with your gardening skills." You breathe out a laugh.

"Well, Falk kills plants just by looking at them, and Attila's not much better." A laugh books from his chest, causing you to jump slightly. But you found yourself joining in with him, unable to stop laughter of your own from bubbling up past your lips.

"You have a really nice laugh." His compliment causes you to blush. Your gaze returns out the window, watching the landscape roll by as a new found sense of ease settles itself in your chest. You pulled into the farmer's market, scrambling out of the car to get yourself over to the Abbey's booth to explain your absence. Matthew appeared by your side a few moments later, toting various bags of produce he must have been asked to bring with him.

"Thank God you're here, if I have to listen to Attila try and explain how your system in the greenhouse works one more time I'm going to lose it." Falk wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you to a waiting customer. The day went by rather seamlessly, all of the people that approached your booth enjoyed listening to you talk about your garden and were impressed by the produce you were selling. That was until things were drawing to a close. A man approached your booth, you greeted him with a friendly smile.

"Anything catch your eye, sir?" You ask politely.

"Nah," he answers gruffly, "I wouldn't take any of this shit if you were giving it away." He gives you a sarcastic, dismissive smile. "Not to mention how much your price gouging your poor customers." He lets out an annoyed huff. "I'll never know why this town lets your freaky little cult participate in events with us God fearing citizens." You were too shocked to even respond. You had never encountered someone so rude in your entire life. You just stared at him wide eyed as you tried desperately to come up with anything to say. "What's the matter? Didn't think someone would actually call you out on it?" The man's face was suddenly plunged into shadow.

"What seems to be the problem?" He rests a hand on your shoulder, silently telling you he was going to take care of this. The man breaks out into the same speech he just spouted at you, this time in a much nicer manner, Matthew standing there listening to him with a patient smile. "I see… Well, it's a good thing you don't have to buy any produce from our, what did I overhear you call us? Our freaky little cult, because you're about to be blacklisted from our stand." The man looks taken aback by Matthew's bluntness. "Our (Y/N) here puts more love into our Abbey's garden than you could ever possibly imagine and I'm not going to sit here and let you be so blatantly disrespectful to them." He pauses, taking a moment to step out from behind your booth's table, now towering over the man. "I suggest that you turn around and go on about your business, unless you would like to deal with me personally." The man ran off with his tail between his legs. The second he was out of sight Matthew's attention was immediately on you. "Are you alright? Everyone here is usually so nice, that's why we keep coming back."

"I'm fine, he was probably just looking for someone to be mad at. I'm usually a pretty easy target." He stoops down in front of you so his eyes could meet yours.

"(Y/N), I've seen you yell at Attila… to his face… you're anything but an easy target." He chuckles as he straightened himself up. "You need to work on being more confident, there's a lot of bite behind that pretty smile." He playfully nudges your shoulder. You found yourself staring down at the table, trying to hide your flustered grin.

"You are quite the charmer Father Matthew." You chuckle, rearranging what was left of the produce in front of you in an attempt to distract yourself.

"Just Matthew's fine." He corrects.

"Well, just Matthew, can you help me restock the cart?" He chuckles, giving you a quick nod before grabbing you what you needed. By the end of the day you had completely sold out. The two of you chatted pleasantly while you helped the remaining members of the Abbey clean up. You both fell into Matthew's car with a groan, tired from the long day you had this far.

"Do you have an actual spare or just one of those shitty donuts?" He breaks the silence with his question. The confused expression you give him causes him to laugh. "So I can change your tire when we get back."

"Oh, Matthew, you don't have to worry about that." You give him a dismissive wave, your hand is swallowed by his as he grabs onto it.

"I do have to worry about it, I'm not going to let you struggle through it by yourself." He gives you a soft smile. His eyes flashed down to him still holding your hand in his own. He sets it down on the middle console, giving it a soft pat. "Sorry." You couldn't deny that you felt some sort of spark as his skin came into contact with yours. Matthew wasn't what you thought he'd be like at all. He was undeniably kind, silly, and gentle. You folded your hands neatly in your lap, deciding your best option was to turn your attention back out the window. You muttered out a quiet, 's okay.' as you did so. A task that you were fighting with for almost an hour Matthew got done in just a matter of minutes. You stood at his side, watching him with a slack jawed expression as he got all the lug nuts off your tire with incredible ease.

"How did you do that so easily?" You take a knee next to him, looking at your now empty wheel well as he prepares to line up the new tire.

"Guess it's just a gift." He pretends to groan as he flexes his bicep. You playfully push his arm out of the way with a giggle. He returns your laugh, his eyes lingering on you for a moment. "Do you want to help?" You nod. "Tell me when I get this lined up." You nodded, watching as he lifted the tire as if it didn't weigh any more than a gallon of milk. You guided him as best you could until the tire slipped onto the axle. After the lug nuts were replaced and the jack was taken away he stood, wiping his hands on a rag to clean them off. "That should do it."

"Thanks…" you trail off, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. You didn't want him to go, but you didn't know what to say to make him stay.

"I don't know about you but I'm starving." He looks down at you with a grin. His tone becomes much more gentle as he continues, "would it be alright if I took you out to dinner?"

"I guess that would be okay." You offer him a sly smile as the two of you head back to his car, he insisted he drove. It was a warm summer evening, the two of you headed out just as the sun was beginning to set on the horizon.

"Can I ask you something?" You let your head lull to the side to look at him, giving him your undivided attention. "You seemed… scared when I approached you before. Did I do someth-"

"No, you didn't." You cut him off before he had a chance to finish the thought. "I'm not going to lie, ever since I joined the Abbey you've always been somewhat intimidating. You're big, loud, the only interactions I've really had with you is when you lead mass… I should've gotten to know you before making an assumption." You ponder your next words for a moment, figuring you were probably already over sharing you didn't find any harm in continuing. "The image I had of you in my head is nothing like what you're actually like."

"And what am I actually like?" He questions you with a smile.

"You're a lot funnier than I thought you'd be." You fumble with your fingers, trying to distract yourself from the growing heat in your cheeks. "You've been nothing but kind towards me all day." You turn and say the last thing under your breath, "not to mention handsome." He snorts out a laugh, reaching over and taking your hand in his.

"You think I'm handsome?" You nod, a small bashful smile on your lips. "Well if it's any consolation I think you're very pretty." His compliment helped you feel a lot less awkward about admitting that out loud. You gave his hand a small squeeze, neither of you making any move to let the other go. Pulling up to a pub was the last place you expected to be right now, but you couldn't complain. Matthew took your hand in his once more as you stepped out of the car, "it can get a little rough in there sometimes. I want to make sure you feel safe." You pushed your fingers through his, trailing closely behind him. You managed to find a table in the back, giving you a chance to scout out the pool table in the process.

"You wanna play a round? Loser buys drinks?" You offer, pulling a cue from the rack on the wall.

"You're on, sweetheart." He accepts your offer with a chuckle. The two of you played a hell of a game, neither of you were particularly good, but you had fun. Yours and Matthew's quips across the table kept you both laughing until he suddenly grew serious.

"Can I buy you a drink?" The polite invitation held a tone of malice behind it. You turned, seeing another patron of the pub standing too close to you.

"Oh, I'm fine… Thank you." You start to notice his expression shift, a scowl lacing its way into his sickly sweet smile. He took one step forward, the instant he moved an arm circled around your waist.

"They're taken." You looked up at Matthew, your hand resting on top of the hand he had on your hip.

"They didn't look very taken when they came in." He dared another step forward. Matthew's arm fell from your waist, you noticed his whole arm tensed as he formed a fist.

"You must not have been paying very close attention then." You don't know what has come over you, you were never a violent person. You saw the man start to wind up to punch Matthew and something inside of you… snapped. You reeled back with a fist of your own, knuckles connecting to the man's jaw, sending him crumpling to the floor.

"Mother fucker!" You curse, cradling your hand. You hadn't expected that to hurt so much. Matthew reached out, grabbing the hand that was in searing pain.

"That was awesome, but we really should go before the cops show up." He pulls you in the direction of the door. Both of you laughed like idiots as you tumbled into his car. You took a look at your hand, your knuckles had split open, leaving you with bloody shaking fingers. "We'll get you all cleaned up when we get back… but, seriously, are you alright?"

"I thought I'd feel a lot cooler after punching someone in the face." You laugh.

"Well, that was probably the coolest thing I've ever seen." He rests a hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle shake. Arriving back at the Abbey he immediately brought you down to the infirmary. You winced at him patting the antiseptic into your open wound. "Sorry, I know this must not feel great." You studied him in the dim light, a small smile finding its way to your lips as you watched him treat you so delicately. He carefully wraps a bandage around your hand, "make sure you keep an eye on this until it heals."

"Matthew?" He hums in response to his name, making sure the bandage was fully secured before he looked up. Your lips crashed into his, one of his hands instantly tangling in your hair as the other came to rest on the bed next to you. You pulled away, leaving him a blushing mess, though you were sure you weren't doing much better. "Thank you." You smile softly.

"Can… can we try that again, I wasn't ready." You giggle as you nod, your hands gently cupping his face as you pulled him back in for another sweet, lingering kiss.

#matthew greywolf #matthew greywolf powerwolf #matthew greywolf x reader #matthew greywolf fluff #matthew greywolf fan fiction #powerwolf x reader #powerwolf band #powerwolf #powerwolf fan fic #powerwolf fan fiction #fan fic writing #fan fiction #fanfic #if you like ghost youll probably like this #my writing

[writtenjewels]

Confused Feelings

With five hours to kill before their rescue showed up, it gave Jason plenty of time to fulfill his promise of getting a drink when he got out of that hellhole. He hesitated a moment before inviting Salim to tag along. To his surprise, the older man agreed. They found a place and Jason ordered them two drinks.

“This okay? I wasn't sure if you were allowed to drink.”

“I think in this case, there is no harm in indulging.” Salim lifted the bottle and took a swallow. “Thank you for inviting me along,” he said.

“Seems like the least I could do,” Jason shrugged. “I wouldn't even be here to drink if it weren't for you.” That caused a little smile to pull at Salim's lips. Jason's insides fluttered nervously. They'd been doing that a lot lately when he and Salim were together. “What're you gonna tell Zain about all this?” Jason wondered.

“I haven't decided. He is already so fascinated by these stories when he thinks that's all they are-- stories. I'm not sure I want him to know there is truth behind it.” Jason pursed his lips but couldn't think of a good response. “I will tell him about the American who saved my life, though,” Salim added. Jason met his warm gaze and felt that flutter go nuts inside him.

“Uh, thanks.” He turned away, tugging down on the brim of his cap to hide the blush that was starting to spread. It was a lot easier hiding that down there in the dark. After a moment he dared to peek up again. “I mean it,” Jason insisted. “Thank you. For all the times you saved my ass down there, and... for listening. It's pretty fucked up that it took me fallin' down a hellhole to work through my shit.”

“We all go at our own pace,” Salim reasoned. “There is no shame in that.”

“Yeah. Well...” Jason swallowed around the lump in his throat. Looking at Salim caused the fluttering to nearly explode inside him and now his insides were flipping and twisting around. “When you're told all your life you should be ashamed, and there's somethin' wrong with you, it's a little harder.”

“Maybe so,” Salim agreed gently. His gaze was so warm Jason swore he could feel it radiating into him. “But I believe you'll get there.”

Jason felt frozen, heart crashing hard against his chest as he struggled to breathe. Back when they were down in the temple, Salim made a comment about them being punished for their sins. Maybe they were, and maybe Jason had somehow died down there. There was no other explanation to why he would meet someone who ticked off every box Jason didn't even know existed in his heart.

He didn't know whether to punch Salim in the face or climb him like a goddamn tree.

“Oorah,” he said, a little less enthusiastically than usual.

“I've heard you do it better than that,” Salim scolded him playfully. “What sort of marine are you? Come, I'll do it with you.”

Jason closed his eyes for a moment. He gathered up all the confusing mixture of emotions into a big ball and shoved them down deep where he wouldn't have to deal with them.

“Ready?” Salim's voice broke through. “On three: one, two, three.” Jason's eyes snapped back open.

“Oorah!” they shouted together.

#jason kolchek x salim othman #jason/salim #jason x salim #salim othman #jason kolchek #jalim #house of ashes

[letsbenditlikebennett]

It’s a Ruff Life || Ari & Kyle

TIMING: Time is fake PARTIES: @darkh0wl & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ari takes a go at being a wolf guru for Kyle. Turns out she doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing either!

Now that Kyle was all settled into his room at the farm, Ari figured it was as good a time as any to work on wolf things with him. She had to fight that part of her that screamed she was the last person who should be helping with this. The part of her mind and dreams that wanted to remind her that all of her attempts to help only ever brought more trouble. She’d just lost control only weeks ago though she suspected her completely tanked mental health and lack of sleep played a huge role in that. She’d gone running almost every day since and it was something. It was a fix all for her bigger problems, but it was a small thing she could show Kyle. Something that helped center them and their energy when their more wolf-like instincts fought to take the wheel. She reminded herself this is what Alcher would have wanted. While the older wolf would likely hate her for forgiving Kaden, the least she could do was help other wolves and use this farm as a safe space for them like Alcher had envisioned. 

 “Hey,” Ari greeted as he joined her outside, “I figured we could spar a bit if you’re down for it? A little more fun than running and just as effective at getting pent up energy and aggression out. I also have a soccer ball if you prefer soccer.” 

 Kyle felt…out of place. Less so than he would have felt within his mom’s house, but out of place nonetheless. Not really having had the chance to get close to Kitty yet, and not honestly knowing Ari super well gave him the feeling of living in someone else’s house, which he supposed he was. He was pretty sure this is what Alcher would have wanted, but there was a lingering guilt there that he hadn’t taken her up on it when she was still alive. Still, with all of those thoughts swimming around in his head, Kyle still knew this was right. This could be good for him, and maybe he could figure out his shit. 

 Hoping to figure out his shit was why he met Ari outside. “Hey yourself,” he said, inclining his head in her direction. The thought of fighting someone so much shorter than him made Kyle’s face twist up in worry. “Not that I don’t think you could handle yourself, Bennett, but I think I’d rather take you in soccer.” 

 Despite the exhaustion, her face lit up at the mention of soccer. Given Ari was worried she would lose control again after what happened with that not-a-lephrachaun fucker, she had taken a step back from recreational soccer. While the little shit at the bar probably deserved the mauling after what he bound that man to do, she knew the same couldn’t be said for the people at the rec center. “You play,” she asked before tacking on, “And don’t get it twisted, Pryce, I can kick your ass at both.” 

 Internally, Ari kicked herself for letting her competitive nature shine through. This was supposed to be about helping Kyle, not herself. Insight, that was right. Soccer had helped her all throughout growing up to keep a handle on all her pent up energy. She gestured toward the barn where she had stored some soccer balls and other various workout equipment. “Sports are good though. Probably the only way I kept from going totally nuts as a kid,” she said, “Soccer was always my favorite. I did order a punching bag to get set up in here too though. Sometimes punching the shit out of something does a lot to get energy and keep the wolf in you more chill.” 

 The only real problem with the bag was that it wouldn’t hit back. It’d be good for Kitty and Kyle though. Ari found herself on enough late night walks that she could always find something to fight. She picked up one of the balls from the corner of the barn and held it at her side. “I think start with the fun stuff first, maybe? It would tire us out,” she explained, “The three things I’ve found help me most with control is getting energy out, breathing through it and this one grounding technique my sister taught me, and not keeping emotions pent up. Last one’s a bit of a bitch.” So much so that she had almost willingly given them away her ability to feel them at all. “Whole home is a judgment free zone on that front at least.”

 A burst of anxious energy rose as Ari remembered tracking was also important. Which was most important? All she could think of was wondering what the hell Alcher would do. “Or tracking, tracking’s a good thing to learn, too,” she said shakily, “I–” Fuck, she was already fucking this up. Alcher’s taunting voice lingered in the back of her mind. You’re no wolf. Maybe she wasn’t, hell she was working for a fucking slayer, but was that so bad? “Fuck, I’m sorry,” she bounced back hurriedly, “I’ve never done… well, this, before. Feels like there should be someone… I don’t know.”

 A grin spread across Kyle’s face. “Oh, then you’re so on,” he teased. “I haven’t played soccer since high school, so I might be a little rusty.” He followed Ari to the barn, looking around and trying to imagine it all fixed up with more workout stuff. “A punching bag could be nice. Maybe we’ll start with soccer and work our way up to sparring.” He listened to the list of advice Ari gave him and nodded along, but internally cringed. The last thing he wanted to do was face his feelings head on or whatever. What was the point in that? Every time he got too emotional, it backfired in some way. His feelings were what got him to this point as it was. No, it was surely better to keep his feelings on a short leash. Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Kyle cleared his throat. “Judgment free zone,” he repeated. “I’ll remember that for the future.”

 Ari’s demeanor changed then. Kyle could almost see her getting into her head about things. “Hey,” he said, a look of confusion crossing his face. “It’s–you’re okay. It’s all good. I mean, I’ve never done this either.” He gestured vaguely at the space between the two of them. “I mean, you’re the first werewolf that I’ve made an effort to be friends with. I’m not well versed in werewolves. Or friends, I guess. Despite the fact that I’ve been both for years.” That didn’t come out the way he meant it to. It was like the words in his head and the words in his mouth were being dictated by two different people. Huffing a sigh, he shook his head. “What I’m trying to say is that there’s no pressure. I’m obviously really glad that you’re helping me out with all of this. But that doesn’t mean you’re being held to a higher standard. We’re cool, Ari.” He smiled at her, although the smile was a little tense. “Now, am I kicking your ass in soccer or what?”

 It felt like she was trying to slip into a role she wasn’t meant for. Even a year ago, Ari would have been more at ease with the idea of helping another wolf figure wolf things out. But hadn’t her own carelessness last August led to someone’s death… or if she really let her mind wander that far, created another wolf. Then with Alcher, being here just felt wrong. She couldn’t cut Kaden out of her life which made living on what Alcher created feel like a betrayal. She shook her head and carried the soccer ball out to the open field. “Yeah, sorry you’re right, I just.” She shrugged.

All of her doubts were still swirling just below the surface. Even if Kyle said it was okay, Ari still felt that dreaded pit in her stomach. How could she sit here and say all this shit he should be doing when she wasn’t doing half of it. She sighed and dropped the ball to the ground. “Yeah, you’re right, guess this is new to both of us. Hard to believe the friend thing is new to you though,” she offered with a laugh. His words were much kinder than she deserved. Maybe he didn’t hold her to a higher standard, but she knew Alcher would. Aside from that, she expected more of herself. This was what she’d always wanted, wolves to call family. That was the reason she insisted on staying. She shook her head a bit. “I guess you’re not wrong there. And I’m glad to have you here. I guess I just,” she sighed, “I’m giving all of this advice I’m not even following lately, feels hypocritical. I’ll preface with I haven’t been the most okay lately, but this is all stuff that used to work for me.” 

 The last part made Ari laugh. “You really think you can take me in soccer, huh? You know I still play and used to coach kids’ soccer, right?”  

 Seeing his words didn’t have the calming effect he had hoped they might, Kyle offered Ari a sympathetic smile. “It’s hard to be okay in the world right now. You don’t have to be okay; if there’s anyway I can help you out, too, I’d love to. Y’know we’re in this together. Wolf farm, wolf fam.” 

 He was maybe talking out of his ass, but Kyle had to believe what he was saying at least a little bit. It was hard to exist in this world. The only reason they were on the farm at all was because Alcher had been killed. It was a lot to consider your mortality related to the fact that you can turn into a werewolf, let alone to have it so dramatically thrown into your face like this. Kyle understood to some extent what Ari must be going through. If he could be there for her in any capacity, it would be nice to see what it was like being friends with someone without their trauma lingering over the relationship. That thought soured Kyle’s expression, so he tried to pretend it was fine. 

 “Okay, fine, you’re going to kick my ass, but I won’t go down without a fight!”

 It was clear Kyle wanted to help, to be there for her. Ari wished she knew how to let him. It used to be easy for her to lean on people, to talk things out, to trust herself, but that all seemed so far away from her now. She knew how helpless that feeling was, wanting to help, but being turned away. She nodded, “Yeah, that’s true. Guess it’d be kinda weird to be okay all the time, especially in this place. And you are helping, not having to pretend and not being alone and all. Wolf fam and all.”

 She offered him a smile. It wasn’t as wide as it may have been two years ago, but it was hopeful. Ari was sure it wouldn’t stop the nightmares. She wasn’t sure anything could at this point. But maybe she could take some of the pressure off of herself. Kyle didn’t need someone to be perfect, like anyone else, he just needed someone to be there and understand. She could do that. She wanted to do that. 

With a ball in her arm, she shot him a devious look. “You’re so on, Pryce.”

#wickedswriting #kyle #p; kyle #p; it's a ruff life

[tinyyoungblood]

quarantine madness | t.h

summary: you knew quarantine with tom was going to drive you both nuts, but now he wants to reenact a scene from age of ultron and possibly break his back, and you’re ready to punch harry for going live on instagram to share his brother’s misery with the world

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: just fluff

requested by: @shythingstudentdragon

* * *

Thud.

“Y/N, are you awake?” A deep voice whispered.

You rubbed your throbbing temple and stared dizzily at the mop of brown curls. “I just body slammed the floor. Do you really think I could’ve slept through that?” He grinned cheekily and pulled you back up, but the simple motion made your head spin, and he was quick to steady you.

“Careful,” he said. You let out a paltry grunt and collapsed back onto the couch. Harry glanced at you for a moment before darting to the kitchen while muttering jumbled words under his breath. From afar, tiny exciting paws reverberated against the hardwood floor and you forced your eyes open to greet the precious bundle of joy.

To your luck, Harry had opened the blinds to the living room, allowing sharp sunlight to flood what once used to be the comfort of a dark cave. You almost hissed. Pitch-black eyes were jumping up and down in front of you and you were quick to scoop Tessa into your arms.

“Hey, baby,” you cooed. “Did you get here all by yourself?”

A snort sounded from the side, and your eyes flitted to a warm smile leaning against the doorframe.

“She did. She’s a big girl now. In fact, she drove us over all by herself, right, love?”

The couch dipped as Sam sat beside you to pet Tessa as she frantically whipped her head from side to side as if to wholeheartedly agree. A chuckle slipped from Sam’s lips before his gaze locked with yours. Concern crossed his eyes.

“Y/n.” He licked his lips tentatively. “I’m saying this in the nicest way possible, but you—”

“You look like shit.”

Harrison entered the room and crossed his arms with a look of disapproval and worry on his face.

Bemusedly drawing your brows together, you cocked your head and listened to the footsteps coming from the kitchen. “Is Twain also going to pop out of nowhere? How did you guys even come in?”

Silently walking over, Harry handed you a glass of water, his blank stare never wavering as you chucked the liquid.

“Spare key.”

Harry took the glass from you and placed it on the coffee table. “And Twain’s coming over later. Thought we might check in on you guys. See if you’re still alive.”

“It definitely doesn’t small alive in here,” Harrison said, grimacing.

Someone had opened the windows, and you had to admit it was nice to breathe crisp clean air again. Cowering under their worried looks, you crossed your legs and glanced at the clock on the wall. How was it already three o’clock?

“Okay, maybe quarantine got a bit over our heads,” you said and picked up a sock from the armrest. “But it’s not like we’ve gotten completely insane. We’ve just been…wasting away.”

Sam eyed the towering stack of Blue-Rays on the coffee table and a teasing grin swiped over his lips. “Wasting away with a movie marathon, I’m assuming?”

You smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Not much else to do around here.”

Stretching your limbs with a gratifying sigh, you placed Tessa on Sam’s lap and stood up. “I’m hitting the shower, guys. Make yourself at home.” You gestured spiritlessly and patted Harry’s shoulder on your way out. Just as you stepped over the threshold, you spun around and stared at Haz’s leaning figure. “Where’s Tom?”

“Would you look at that.” He laughed, his crystal blue eyes loosening up from the stern gaze. “It only took you five minutes to remember your boyfriend’s existence. And they say romance is dead.”

Swatting his arm with a mock scowl, you looked around the living room and then spared a glance into the hall. “Seriously, we fell asleep on the couch together. Where is he?”

As if on cue, a loud thud bellowed from above, and your eyes widened. You had already turned on your heel and dashed upstairs before anyone could answer. The door to the office room fell open and you gawked at the sight ahead.

Tom was sprawled underneath the long velvet sofa, holding it up with both arms. He lowered it with a heavy grunt, and lifted it again with an even heavier grunt. He seemed to be deeply entranced in his action, not even taking notice of the footsteps nearing him until they stopped right by his side.

Stopping mid-action, he looked up and beamed at you. “Hello, darlimg.”

“Hi, love,” you said, amusedly. “Busy?”

“Uhm.” His eyes flickered to the sofa. “You could say that.”

“Just one question, Tommy.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why?”

Tom blinked at you. “What do you mean why? You know why.”

He was quick to scoot out from underneath, jump on his feet, and stand in front of you with the faintest scowl plastered on his face. You racked your hand through your tangled hair. “But I don’t. Should I know?”

His mouth fell open. “Yes. Yes, you should. You were there.” Your face remained expressionless. “Yesterday? When we watched the Age of Ultron scene on Clint’s farm?” Nothing. He groaned. “When Steve and Tony had an argument and Steve ripped that log in half, and you bet I could never do that?”

Finally, realisation crossed your mind. “Tom, I was half-asleep during that part. At that point, I was just mouthing gibberish,” you reasoned and laughed lightly, but it died down the second you realised Tom was not fining any trace of humor in this conversation. “You know I didn’t mean it, right?”

Vibrant blue caught your attention and your eyes flitted across the room to a blue yoga mat in the middle of the floor. “Oh no.” You groaned and let your head fall into your palms. “You’re going to rip a log in half?”  

Your question was muffled, but Tom caught it and nodded proudly when you met his gaze again.

“You could seriously injure yourself, you know that?” He hummed and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to your cheek before wandering over to the mat.

“For instance, you could get a splinter and die of blood loss.”

Again, he hummed while lowering himself to the ground, starting with slow pushups.

“And you would die before Spider-Man 3 was filmed and the whole world would just explode in chaos.”

“Yes, love. You’re right,” he said in between pushups and you sighed.

“You’re going to do it. You’re going to rip a log in half. I’m dating a maniac.” You threw your hands up and spun around when Tom hummed again, stopping what he was doing to lock eyes with you.

“I think the others are right. We’ve gone insane,” he said.

You nodded and hugged yourself as your giggle settled into a soft smile. Your expression melted at the sheer sight of your boyfriend making a complete fool of himself merely to prove his point. A second later you noted that he still managed to look too attractive for his own good.

Your eyes trailed the lines of his back muscles, screaming to tear his tight gym shirt in half, and down to his prominent bicep, flexing with each movement. Knowing there was no point in trying to persuade your competitive dork of a boyfriend, you left the room to take a much-needed shower.

The rest of the day went smoothly. As planned, Twain stopped by and together with the boys, you had managed to have a nice afternoon consisting of board games and trivial chatter. It was nice to be surrounded by other humans again, and you appreciated their company.

But what you appreciated a little less was Tom’s sudden spur of insanity. It’s been almost four hours and the guy didn’t find it in himself to stop preparing for what he had now titled the “Big Reveal”.

He was everywhere and nowhere. When you couldn’t find him plank in the middle of the living room, he was probably doing sit-ups on the staircase. At some point, you and the others had just accepted his new maniacal hyperfixation.

It was the kitchen encounter at 7.25 PM when you had finally found the courage to ask him the godforsaken question. It wasn’t by choice, really, but rather a lost bet with the others.

You were attempting casualty, maneuvering around his body to snatch a random bowl from the kitchen counter like it was the most normal thing—stirring air with a fork. Tom was currently doing pull-ups and you watched for a moment how his arms flexed and sweat glistened across the skin of his forehead.

“You alright, love?” His voice pulled you out of your trance and you shuffled on your feet.

Clearing your throat, you spotted the tiniest hint of a smirk revealing itself on his lips, and your eyes narrowed. “I’m good, thank you,” you snapped and rounded his body to stand in front of him. “You ready for the Big Reveal?” The words made you grin inevitably, but Tom didn’t notice. He plopped to the floor and beamed at you.

“I think so.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Ready to regret yesterday’s words, love?”

                                  ───

“Wait, I didn’t agree to go live. Harry, no.” Tom’s warning fell on deaf ears as his brother simply grinned at him. He held up his phone and filmed the two of you with the back camera.

“Too late,” he mouthed and you were left with no other choice than to wave awkwardly.

“Hey, guys. Welcome to this very much unplanned Instagram Live.” He doted a mock glare in Harry’s direction and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his side.

“Some of you might already know, but this is my lovely girlfriend Y/N. Trust me, she’s usually not this stiff.” Tom poked your side and flashed you a toothy grin. Playfully gasping, you leaned forward and spoke to the camera.

“Hi, guys.” You smiled. “Some of you might already know, but this is Tom. Our not-so-friendly neighbourhood psychopath.”

The boys snickered. You winked at the camera while Tom chuckled next to you. It was infectious and never failed to make you smile and feel at ease, so you continued your role as a moderator. After you had explained the absurdity of the situation and gestured to the provisional log standing representatively on the grass, it was time.

Stepping backward, you watched as Tom confidently, but with a certain waver of caution, picked up the log to examine it. A fleeting shimmer of doubt crossed his eyes but it was gone with the blink of an eye.

It seemed like the whole of London had agreed to stand still. There was only the sound of your droning heartbeat that filled your ears. The others had frozen completely. Even Tessa watched curiously.

Tom’s eyes flicked to yours and back to the camera. “If I break my back, you know who to sue.” He laughed heartily when you swatted his arm with a gasp.

“Just do it, Holland.”

And then it happened.

Gripping both sides of the log, Tom tugged at the piece of wood until it ripped down slowly in the middle and tore apart only a second later.

The yard exploded with noise.

The boys shouted, yelled, and cheered while running across the grass. Harry whipped from left to right like an excited child, trying to capture every moment.

Only you stayed put on the spot, your eyes flitting across the yard to the big ax stuck in another log. You cracked a private smile. It seemed as if only Tessa had caught on, and you winked at her knowingly. Your gaze wandered back to Tom and Haz who were both standing in front of Harry and talking to the phone.

“He might have lost his mind, but not this bet and never his fashion sense,” Harrison said proudly into the camera and Tom showered in glory.

Coming down from his blistering high, he turned around and his gaze landed on you. With a broadening smile, he was quickly by your side and smothering your cheek with tiny kisses.

“Thank you.” Kiss. “For doubting me.” Kiss. “I would’ve never made it if it weren’t for you.” Kiss. Harry came closer with his phone and you jokingly pushed Tom away, feigning a disgusted face.

“Move over, man. I don’t like you that much.”

The others laughed, and Tom leaned in, his warm breath fawning over your face as he chuckled. Lifting your chin with his hand, he guided your lips to his and captured them in a kiss.

“Get a room, mate!” Sam shouted from across the garden.

“There are children watching!” Harrison hissed.

You pulled back from the kiss and rolled your eyes at their quarrel, smiling. Unwrapping yourself from Tom’s embrace, you stepped back and gave the camera a two-finger-wave. “Alright, enough PDA. It was great to talk to you all.”

Just as you had turned around, a hand curled around your wrist and pulled you back.

“Not without me.” Tom leaned in again, nose bumping, and a dreamy smile hanging onto his lips. You huffed, but your grin betrayed you.

“Fine,” you said.

Tom pecked your lips and pulled away, hugging you even closer. He flashed you a cheeky smile and said, “But I’m not going, so neither are you.”

* * *

can’t believe i’m back. it’s only been like what? four years? :’) hope you liked this one! thanks for reading <3 

🦋 masterlist

taglist: @honeypie-holland​ @himarisolace​ @duskholland​ @insidiousslut​ @siriuslyslyslytherin​ @hollandsrecs​ @quaksonhehe​ @chloecreatesfictions​ @writertoo18​ @fl0ating​ @luwloki​ @missnxthingg​

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine

[fuckyeahfightlock]

Advent Ficlets 2021, Day 10

Food and Drink

John hadn’t heard Sherlock come to bed, but knew it must have been very late because he’d still been pottering around in the sitting room when John got up for the bathroom at half-two, and now that it was after ten and John was fed, dressed, and beginning to feel restless with a need to leave the flat for a bit, Sherlock was still asleep.

There was evidence of his night’s activities--the holiday cards all in their addressed and stamped envelopes, returned to the box they’d arrived in, set on one corner of the kitchen table waiting to be posted; a jumbled tangle of fairy lights on the floor beside one of the still-bare trees, near enough an outlet that John figured Sherlock had been testing them to be sure they still worked; his small notebook lying open on the small table beside his chair, with one of his heavy pens laid across it to hold the pages.

John leaned over to read what Sherlock had written.

Across the top of the left page, Food. Across the top of the right, Drinks

Under Food, he’d written cheese and fruit board, but put a line through it and beneath it wrote, olives, mixed nuts, crisps(???). Under Drinks, he’d written mulled wine, but crossed out ‘mulled,” and beneath wine had written beer in bottles, sparkling water.

John thought it sounded like a fairly underwhelming spread, especially compared to what Sherlock had served the previous year--appetizers that had required recipe testing, cookies he’d baked himself, whisky punch and fancy coffee. A boozy Christmas cake he’d spent the whole month on. He’d planned his party so that people would have a few drinks and nibbles, then go elsewhere for dinner, but this sounded like the sort of things one brought out when someone stopped in unexpectedly during the middle of the football match. Not that Sherlock watched football, of course. It was things from jars and cans, beer in bottles. It did not seem like there would be much of a party.

John tried not to feel grim, but given the slow to no progress on festive endeavours, he was feeling less and less hopeful that Sherlock’s annual Christmas Eve Drinks Thing was going to come off terribly impressive. John wanted desperately to get his hands into it, help Sherlock execute his plans, stir up a little magic of the season, but thus far his every offer of help had been shrugged off. Maybe there was some grand, secret, quick-to-execute plan being developed in Sherlock’s ingenious mind, but John had creeping doubt.

He needed air. He grabbed the box of cards, and took them with him to drop in the post.

#2021 Advent Ficlets #Another Party on Christmas Eve

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas- Six

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

Warnings: language, angst, shitty moms, family drama.

Author’s Note: I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings.

December 24th

I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. 

The same thought runs through my head like a conga line as I stand in the bathroom of Connor’s house, finishing up my makeup. 

“Hey, you almost ready?” 

I jump at the sound of Connor’s voice and his sudden appearance behind me in the mirror and almost stab myself in the eyeball with my eyeliner pencil. 

“How pissed do you think they’d be if I just didn’t show up?” I ask him rhetorically, already knowing the answer. 

“Well, dad would be disappointed but he’d understand, and mom would probably come and hunt you down and never let you hear the end of it.”

“I could just never answer her calls again.” I shrug. 

“Yeah, but then she’d show up at your house, the studio, HERE....and since I don’t feel like having her come over unannounced because you decided to be a chicken and skip out on Christmas Eve dinner, move your ass. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

As we stand in front of my parents’ front door, I run through a list in my head of things that I’d rather be doing than getting ready to face my parents. Or more specifically, my mother. 

Get stung by a jellyfish. Having to walk through a room full of Legos barefoot. Pulling my own fingernails out one by one. Okay, maybe I went too far with that one. 

“You ready?” Connor asks. 

“No.” I deadpan. 

Before we can stop her, Olivia reaches up and rings the doorbell. 

I heave out a sigh of relief when it’s my dad that answers the door, knowing that at least I’m not going to be insulted before I even step foot inside the house. 

We get ushered inside the house take off our coats before my dad wraps me in a hug. 

“Where’s Chris?” he asks. 

“He’s over at his dad’s house. You only get me tonight.” I say with a small smile. 

“I guess we’ll have to make do.” he huffs out dramatically. 

I make my way into the kitchen and my sister Colleen immediately hands me a glass of red wine. 

“Here, you might need this.” she tells me. I roll my eyes, knowing that there’s no other choice than to nut up and face the music. 

“Hey mom.”

My mom turns from the stove, her face completely devoid of any emotion. 

“I didn’t even know if you were coming tonight, since you haven’t returned any of my phone calls or anything.”

“I’m sorry. I should have called you back. Things have been a little.....” my emotions start to bubble up in my throat, threatening to choke me. “Things have been busy. I’ve been swamped with work and getting last minute things done for Christmas. I wasn’t actively trying to ignore you.” I tell her. 

“Why did you come with Connor and Olivia? Where’s Chris?” 

Here we go. 

“He’s at his dad’s house.” 

“Why didn’t you go with him?” 

“Because I knew I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t show up here tonight. Chris will get let off the hook, though, right?” It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. 

“Chris is a busy man. He has an excuse.” 

I take a deep breath, count to ten, and let it out before walking out of the kitchen. If there’s anything my mother loves more than passive aggressively insulting me at every turn, it’s getting the last word. 

We’re all sitting around the living room opening presents when the doorbell rings. Since I’m closest to the door, I get up to answer it and nearly have a small stroke when I open the door. 

“Hey.” Chris says, standing on my parents’ porch with his hands stuffed in his pockets. 

I can only stand there and blink owlishly at him as my brain tries, and fails, to come up with something intelligent to say. 

I look over my shoulder into the house to see that everyone is thankfully not paying attention, and pull the front door closed behind me. 

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my breath puffing up in clouds in front of my face. 

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking, but listen to me. I know your parents don’t know about what’s going on with us, and I know that if they think something is wrong, they’re going to be all over you.” Chris tells me. 

I wrap my arms around myself and swallow hard. 

I hate that he’s right. 

“Can we just pretend that everything is okay? Just for tonight? We get through dinner with your parents and get you off the hook, and then, we can....” he trails off. 

Before I can either agree or tell him to get the fuck off the porch, the door opens and my dad steps out. 

“Chris! Hey, we thought you weren’t going to be able to make it!” my dad says, pulling him in for one of those man hug things. 

“Not a chance. Finished up early so I headed right over. Sorry I’m late.” 

My dad eyes me disapprovingly. “Get in the house before you catch pneumonia.”

Three things happen simultaneously when Chris steps foot into the house: Olivia squeals at top volume (because Uncle Chris is her favorite person in the world, second only to me) and runs into his waiting arms, my mom’s almost always stern looking face breaks into a huge smile, and Connor and Colleen’s jaws both drop open at almost the exact same time. It would be funny if I weren’t shitting my pants even more now about how the rest of this night was going to go. 

Halfway through dinner, things are going about as well as can be expected, but I’m still ready for this night to just be over. Between Chris sitting next to me and having to act like we’re still the Chris and Kelly we used to be, the 13 passive aggressive digs my mom has thrown at me over the course of the evening, and the headache trying to hatch in my brain, I’m ready for this night to be over. 

“How are things going at the studio, sweetheart?” my dad asks me. 

“They’re fine. It’s always busy this time of year.” I tell him, pushing the food around on my plate.

“It must not be that busy if you can afford to be closed during the middle of the holiday season.” my mom sniffs. 

“Brenda-” my dad warns. 

“Mom, just let it go, okay? I needed a break. Things were a little hectic and I was getting burnt out. I needed some time off, and so did my staff.” I tell her. 

I reach for the bottle of wine to refill my glass, and my mom snatches it from my hand. 

“You’ve had enough. You’ve been drinking like a lush tonight, and I know you’re smoking again. I can smell it on you. You treat your body like shit; no wonder you can’t get pregnant.” 

The sound of several sets of silverware clattering against the fine China that’s only brought out for Christmas is deafening. 

My face burns with embarrassment and my heart lodges itself somewhere in the vicinity of my throat. Hot, angry tears spring to my eyes, and it takes me a minute before I can even move. 

Chris is absolutely frozen, absolute shock and disappointment evident on his face at what my mother just said. It was the lowest possible blow she could have dealt, and she just absolutely nailed me with it with no remorse whatsoever. 

Without a word, I push my chair back and stand up on shaky legs and leave the table and everyone hears the front door slam less than a minute later. 

When his brain can fully process what just happened, Chris gets up and runs out the door after me, just in time to hear 

“Just let her go. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. She’s too sensitive.”

When Chris comes outside, I’m leaning against the passenger side door of his car, trying and failing to light a cigarette through my sobs. 

“Hey, hey, stop. Come here. Give me that.” he says, taking the lighter from me. He flicks it once and holds the flame steady so I can light the cigarette and I take a deep drag in. He lights his own and leans against the car next to me. 

“I stopped being surprised by anything she said a long time ago, you know. I stopped being shocked when she would make shitty comments about my weight or my clothes or anything I did. She’s always been like that with me. Nothing was ever good enough. I was never going to be as good as Colleen or Connor because I was the mistake. I was the baby she never wanted. I never tried to let it bother me or let it get to me, but....” I sob quietly and sniffle in the cold air. “Man, she just fucking sucker punched me right in the face. I never should have even told her about it; about how I was having trouble getting pregnant......I should have known.......” my words trail off as more sobs shake my body. 

“Come here.” Chris whispers. He pulls me against his chest and wraps his arms around me and I hold onto him as tight as I can. 

“I’m so sorry.” he whispers against my hair. Over the sound of the wind blowing, I can hear raised voices inside and can only imagine what’s going on in there. And to think it had been a pretty decent night up until that point. 

“Will you take me home? I just....I don’t want to go back to Connor’s. I can’t be around any of them right now. I just want to go home and see Dodger and drink some more.” 

“Okay. Whatever you want.” 

 The Usual Suspects: @averyrogers83 @wordywarriorwrites @imanuglywombat @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @hlkwrites @reminiscingrogers @mom—nicole @jtargaryen18 @alexakeyloveloki @kelbabyblue @sarahp879 @moonlessnight14 @mojean13 @mrskokitztelford @artisticrogers1972 @southerngracela @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @mybesttobobcratchit @gracethegeek9902 @mdemontespan1667 @marvelfansworld @capslut2014 @dispatchvampire @jamielea81 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @southerngracela​ @what-is-your-plan-today @letsdisneythings​ @theladybiers @lexeeehhh @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @autumnrose40 @donutloverxo​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @jessaywahh-blog​@smediumsmeatbae @before-we-get-started​ @lizette50 @littlegasps @rageshots @what-is-your-backupplan-today @clairebubbles @patzammit @sweet--catrastophe

Kinktober 2020: @saiyanprincessswanie​ @superquirky-blog

#chris evans x oc #originial fic #blue christmas #chris evans x kelly evans #chris evans x wife #drama #angst #nothing like a family to fuck up a family #holiday drama #shitty parents #this was harsh to write

[imkylotrash]

Change The Ending

Pairing: Ron Weasley x reader

Request: They're searching for the deadly hollows and it's the moment where Ron leaves. You can choose whether reader goes or stays, either way it's going to be angsty for whoever gets left behind. Anonymous

A/N It’s currently 1am and I have a dog that’s going to wake me in 5 hours 🙃

Tagging: @bitchwhytho​ @music-of-melody​

It takes you weeks to find the first horcrux. Another couple of weeks before you manage to steal it from Umbridge. And that’s when you realise you have no idea how to destroy the locket. Wearing it makes everything harder but it takes a toll on Ron more than the rest of you. He yells at the slightest inconvenience and refuses to apologise even after taking off the locket. You all thought Harry had a better plan than this, you thought Dumbledore had a better plan than this. But you said to the bitter end when you told Harry you were coming so you keep quiet. Ron, on the other hand, has made it his mission to keep you all miserable and that starts with Harry. 

“I’ll take the locket now,” you say holding out a hand to Ron. He’s been wearing it for four hours which is five hours less than the rest of you but he’s much worse when he wears the locket so you all agreed that you could handle it. 

“Fine,” he sneers almost throwing it at you rather than giving it to you. Before all this when you were still at the Burrow, you and Ron had a moment. It was at the wedding right before you had to flea when he asked you to dance. It’s the first time you’ve felt like he actually noticed you which makes you feel slightly pathetic because you’ve noticed him since the third year. Better late than never, you told yourself. But now it was like looking at a stranger. 

“Hermione got us some food,” you try with a smile but he only groans. 

“It’s probably just mushrooms and nuts. I’ll pass.” You bite back what you really want to tell him because no good will come from it. You’ve all been working hard to stay cheery but all Ron does is mope around and while you understand that he’s worried about his family, he seems to think he’s the only one with people to worry about. 

“Is he in a mood?” Harry asks once you’re outside the tent. He nods to the locket around your neck. 

“It’s been worse,” you just say not wanting to stir anything between those two. The tension is bad enough as it is. Harry nods knowing what you’re trying to avoid. You both grew up in muggle homes right around the corner from each other so you’ve known each other for almost all of your lives. But you can’t get between him and Ron, you refuse to take sides. 

“We’ll figure something out soon,” Hermione says trying to convince you as well as herself. And she’s right. You do figure out that the sword of Gryffindor will be able to destroy the horcrux, but you have no idea where the sword is. 

“Great! Another thing we have to find,” Ron says throwing out his arms in real tantrum style.

“The sword is easier to find. Dumbledore hasn’t hidden it,” you try to reason with him but it’s impossible when he’s wearing the locket. He’s angry and lashing out at anyone who’s near him. 

“No one ever said this would be easy, Ron. I told you I couldn’t promise you to be home for Christmas,” Harry interjects and you really wish he hadn’t because Ron goes mad. 

“Yes, the family I abandoned to follow you! But you’ve got no clue what you’re doing. And clearly, you’re not in a hurry,” he yells pushing all the right buttons to get Harry upset as well. You lock hands with Hermione watching it all unfold. 

“Take the locket off, Ron. Please.” You reach out your free hand hoping that it’ll calm him down a little if he’s not feeling the weight of the horcrux. But he’s way past the point where he has to wear it to be affected by it. Even with you holding it, the nasty words continue to leave his mouth. 

“It’s not like the rest of us don’t have someone to worry about,” Harry argues fed up with Ron’s behaviour. 

“You don’t have a family!” Even you can’t defend him after that. Bringing up Harry’s family is a low blow especially for Ron. Mrs. Weasley would be so disappointed in him. 

“Get out!” Harry yells doing his best not to punch Ron right in his face. 

“Fine with me!” Ron scoffs grabbing his few items and putting them in a backpack. 

“Can we all just please calm down. Let’s take a walk, clear our mind.” You’re begging at this point because you know what comes next if Ron decides to leave. But the damage has been done. Harry won’t ask Ron to stay after what he said and you can’t blame him. You all have people to worry about. Family isn’t just blood. 

“Please, Ron,” you say quietly pretending it’s just the two of you but he’s beyond the point where you can bring him back. He’s upset. 

“Are you coming or staying?” he asks abruptly raising an eyebrow. There’s nothing you’d like more than to call it a day and go home to the Burrow for one of Mrs. Weasley’s famous meals but how could you when the world is depending on you to kill Lord Voldemort? You can’t abandon the mission even if your heart is screaming for you to follow Ron. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper hot tears falling. 

“Suit yourself.” It’s the last words he says before storming out the tent. You’re all in shock over how fast everything happened. You bring the locket over your head grabbing your wand from your bed. You won’t run after him and beg him to stay. That’s too much even for you. 

“I’ll take the first watch. Get some sleep.” You head outside to sit down. Inside the tent, you hear them shuffle into bed without another word. The quiet night calms you down a little but you can’t help the ache that’s settled down in your heart. Ron becomes a taboo over the next couple of weeks. You try to carry on as usual but it’s clear that he’s missing and it’s wearing you all down. Suddenly, the chain seems much tighter around your neck. The night he comes back, you’re not exactly in a forgiving mood. Hermione screams enough for the both of you so you decide to go inside and pretend like you didn’t see him. You’re thrilled that the locket is now destroyed and that you have a weapon to kill the next horcrux with but you’re not ready to pretend like everything is fine. He left and more importantly, he left you. Without any hesitation, he got up and left you behind. It takes a while before you’re even willing to look in his direction but he keeps trying to make it up to you. He brings you breakfast in bed, offers to take the night shift, he even takes it upon himself to bring you fresh flowers every night before bed. 

“Can we talk?” you ask him one day. Immediately, he’s on his feet following you outside the tent. You’ve decided to make peace with him because the group can’t handle being divided and honestly, you’re tired of being angry. 

“I’m sorry I left.” 

“How did you find us?” You know he’s told Harry and Hermione already but you were too upset to listen to him. He gladly tells you seemingly pleased that you’re even talking to him. 

“I hated the way I left things between us two. Merlin, it was just getting good and then I acted like a complete prick.” At least he has a little bit of insight, you note already feeling your anger slowly evaporate. 

“You did.” You’re not about to pretend he wasn’t the world’s largest asshole even before that night. 

“I came back because it was the right thing to do. But mainly, I needed to change how things ended between the two of us. I needed to know you didn’t hate me.” For someone as thick as Ron, he really has a way with words. 

“I could never hate you.” He smiles at that taking it as encouragement and sneaks his hand closer to yours. It takes you back to the wedding and his hesitation behaviour when he asked you to dance. 

“If you’re going to kiss me, you may want to do it fast before I change my mind about forgiving you.” You keep your face neutral but inside you’re smiling like crazy. This is the Ron you fell in love with and you really hope he’s here to stay.

“Yes, ma’am.”

#ron weasley x reader #ron weasley gif #ron weasley blurb #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley #hp blurb #hp imagine #hp fanfiction #hp #hp gif

[portalford]

I Can Picture You So Easily

AO3

It hits Stan at the stupidest times.

Well.  That makes it sounds like Stan just forgets, when really it never quite goes away — sometimes it’s just more.

Like now.

He’s looking in the mirror — he found it tucked way, way back in a closet (and he’s gonna skip right over that because when he got here the mirror in the bathroom was broken, cracked until you couldn’t see a thing and why was Ford—nope) — and he’s trying out a new look for Mr. Mystery.

Gotta keep it fresh, right?  Accessorize?

Glasses aren’t accessories, unfortunately.  He can’t go without them anymore.

(Really, he needed them years ago, but he was too stubborn to admit it, or too broke, or whatever, but he’s literally tripping over his own feet now.  Needs must).

Ford wouldn’t be caught dead in this getup.  No sense of fashion.  So that’s fine.

The glasses—

(Ford started wearing glasses when he was six.  Stan had laughed himself silly when they went to the drugstore and tried on the biggest, most obnoxious frames they could find.  Ma had scolded, but she’d been too distracted checking price tags to do more than scold.

In the end, they went with some cheap horn-rimmed frames that Stan wouldn’t be caught dead in even now.  Old-man glasses, at six.  But that was Ford all over).

—they bring some stuff up.  The twin thing sucks, sometimes.  

(Looking in a mirror and seeing the changes, the lines in his face, the grey in his hair — does Ford have crow’s feet now?  Is his hair going silver?  It was always unmanageable — is it thinning like Stan’s is now, or is it still thick and flyaway, like it was when Ford was sixteen?  Did he even live long enough to get lines in his face and aches in his joints, or is he forever twenty-eight, dead somewhere in the universe?)

Time to stop thinking.

Notice the differences.

Stan’s ears and nose are bigger than Ford’s, always have been.  He’s heavier and his shoulders are broader.

(Has Ford gotten bulkier, fighting to survive?  Or is still he halfway to gaunt, like the last time Stan saw him?)

Definitely time to stop thinking.

Stan flashes a smile, and yeah, that’s all him.  Cheerful, magnetic, and a hundred percent fake.

Time to work the crowds.

*****

There’s an ad for the nice ink pens Ford saved up to buy when he was fourteen.

Stan turns it off.

*****

Mabel finds a picture, once.

“Grunkle Stan!”  Her eyes are all lit up as she shows him the torn photograph.  “I found this under a floorboard in the attic!”

If Stan ever had any doubts about his poker face, he can lay them to rest now. It’s all on the ropes and his expression is perfectly level, maybe even a little curious.

Mabel is still talking.  “I didn’t know there were pictures of you before you were all old!  Do you have any others?”

Oh.

Stan still forgets sometimes, even after everything, that most people can’t tell him and Ford apart.

He knows better.

The young man in the photograph is unmistakably Ford, taken while he was living in Gravity Falls.  He’s got his head bent over that journal of his, but the photographer managed to catch the eager light in his eye, the edge of his smile.

Stan wonders who that photographer was, all those years ago.

A tug at his shirt reminds him he’s not alone, and he definitely can’t get messed up about this picture of his secret twin brother.

Mabel’s face has fallen a bit.  “Grunkle Stan?  Are you okay?”

Stan gives himself two more seconds to look at the picture — Ford just looks so happy; Stan can’t even remember the last time Ford looked like that, even before it all fell apart — and turns to Mabel.

“Yeah,” he says.  He smiles and ruffles her hair.  “Pretty good picture, huh?”

*****

The name is the worst.

Stan never thought identity theft could involve so little fun.

Usually he can get away with just “Stan Pines,” and that’s fine.  That’s his name.  That’s who he’s supposed to be.

Sometimes, though, that’s not enough for whoever’s asking.

“What did you say your name was again?”

He smiles.  Lays it on thick.  “Stanford Pines.”

“Could you sign here?”

He does.  His blocky, uneven handwriting looks even worse than usual where he’s expecting to see neat, flowing script, the way Stanford Pines is supposed to be written.

“This is Stanford Pines,” someone will say.  “Mr. Mystery.”

Stan smiles some more.  Yes, Stanford Pines is certainly that.

Gideon is the worst.  Stanford this and Stanford that and Stan’s never wanted to punch a child so much in his life.

“Stanford Pines!”

He smiles, and he lies.

*****

Dipper halfway drives him nuts sometimes.

It’s not like the kid’s a mini-Ford — he reminds Stan enough of himself, sometimes, though Stan’s not sure that’s great either — but he’s got the brains and the stubbornness and the love of weird nonsense, for sure.

He’s also got that obsessive edge, the drive that sent Ford right off the metaphorical cliff.

Usually Mabel tags along on the weirdness hunts — they make a day of it.  They go out, just the two of them, and come back laughing and joking and shoving at each other.

That’s enough of a painful reminder, but sometimes Stan will catch Mabel sitting by herself, coloring or crafting with a little less energy than usual, and he’ll realize that Dipper’s buried himself in monster theory again.

He tries to keep the kid busy with chores and hustle, but it’s a losing battle.

It was the first time, too.

*****

There’s this old song that Ford used to love when they were younger.

It’s got no words, and Stan used to make fun of it — what's the point of a song with no words?  But Ford insisted it had Meaning, capital M.

It comes on the radio now and then.

Depending on how masochistic Stan is feeling that day, he might let it play.

He still wonders what Ford heard in this song, and if Ford would hear it now.

*****

He realizes, one day near the end, that he’s been Stanford longer than he’s been Stanley.

What’s the point, really?  What does a name matter if it’s so easy for someone else to take your place?

(Did Ford matter so little, in the grand scheme of things, that not one person could recognize him in a place he lived for six years?

Does Stan, in a place he’s lived for almost thirty?)

If he could just stop catching Ford in his reflection now and then, that’d be great.

*****

It’s not any better once Ford gets back (once Stan brings Ford back, the ungrateful bastard).

“Stanford!”

Stan’s got a smile on his face before he even turns around, and what’s wrong with him that he’s halfway made this lie into a Pavlovian response?  Someone calls him Stanford, he smiles and lies.

(Stanford — the real Stanford — is in the basement right now.  He doesn’t even exist, as far as anyone else is concerned.  Stan is Stanford, Stanley is dead, and Ford is a nonentity.

What a life this is).

*****

“So how was it?”

Stan grunts.  “How was what?”

Ford rolls his neck, wincing a little as he works out the unavoidable crick from hunching over a drawing for twenty minutes.  “Being me.”

Stan shrugs.  “Wasn’t hard.  We’re basically the same person, y’know.”

Ford snorts.  A long time (a lifetime) ago that comment might have gotten him worked up, but he’s steadier now, softer around the edges.  “Very funny.  I saw your lease renewal.  You didn’t even change your handwriting, for heaven’s sake.”

“Ford, I rolled up to town, said I was you, and started a tourist trap.  You had a total personality transplant and nobody noticed.”  Stan grimaces.  That sounded really bad.

Ford’s expression has gone rueful and a little sad at the edges, but he doesn’t seem like he’s about launch into full-blown self-recrimination, so that’s fine.  “Yes, well.  That’s what happens when you isolate yourself for six years and your only friend erases his mind to cope with the mistakes you made.”

And that’s Ford trying to shoulder all the blame again, but Stan keeps his mouth shut.  They’re both too comfortable to argue right now.  “Being honest — for once — it kinda sucked.”  Ford’s looking at him, open and encouraging, so Stan keeps going.  “Everyone thought I was you, and it—I wasn’t.  I didn’t want to be.”  Stan shrugs.  “I wanted you you.”

Ford smiles, and it’s a little more worn than Stan remembers, but it’s real, and it’s him.  “I understand.  I met a few parallel versions of you on my travels, and they were you, but — they weren’t really you.”  Ford closes his journal (his new one) and sets it aside, tipping his head back over his chair.  More playfully, he adds, “I wouldn’t want to be you either, Stanley.”

Stan laughs.  “Yeah?  Couldn’t handle the salesmanship?”

“Have more self-respect than to wear any part of your wardrobe.”

“Says the man who wears sweaters in the summer.”

Ford lifts his head and smiles, and this time it’s almost exactly how Stan remembers — quick and a little crooked.  “Fair enough.”  Ford stretches, rolls his neck again.  “For what it’s worth, Stanley, I am glad to be back.”  A wry look.  “Even if it’s going to take ages to sort out the criminal record you gave me.”

Stan slouches deeper into the couch.  Any further and he’s going to slide off, but that’s a risk he’ll take.  “Yeah, yeah.  Talk to me when you’re legally dead.”

“You did that.”

“And?”

“I legally don’t exist.”

“I was trying to learn theoretical physics at the time, Stanford; cut a man some slack.”

Ford laughs, quiet.  “Did I ever thank you for that?”

Stan cracks an eye open.  He didn’t realize he closed them.  “What, learnin’ physics?  Because I’m pretty sure that’s some of the stuff that’s not coming back.”

Ford rolls his eyes.  “For saving me.”

“Hm.”  Ford’s thanked him several times, but lately it’s been less Ford kicking himself and more Ford cautiously trying to engage in the old back-and-forth they used to have, and Stan can get behind that one.  “I dunno.  Might have to say it again.”

“You’re burning through my gratitude very quickly,” Ford says mildly, “but all right.  Thank you for saving me.  You knucklehead.”

Stan never got called that when he was Ford.  He thinks he’s missed it, at least the way Ford says it — like it means something completely different.

“Uh-huh.”  Stan’s eyes are closed again.  He figures he’ll just leave them closed.  “Missed you too, nerd.”

And maybe there’s something to be said for being your own person.

It feels pretty good.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #stanley pines #stanford pines #back on the angst with a happy ending train #feat. a side of introspection and melodrama! #i love it here

[midnightsnyx]

Consequences - Matthew Tkachuk: part 6

summary: you absolutely hate Matthew Tkachuk so it’s just your luck when you wind up pregnant with his child. 

a/n: well... here it is lol 2(or 3?) weeks late. sorry for the wait, this chapter was just a bitch to write and every time i thought i was done, i wasn’t happy with it & i didn’t wanna post just for the sake of posting. but i stayed up until 2 a.m. to finish this, so technically it is sunday so im posting on schedule lol

im not sure how many parts are left to this story, maybe two or three + an epilogue but i haven’t decided yet. 

also, this gif made me feel things 😂

word count: 2.1k (i wish they were longer too but im doing the best i can😩)

warnings: none other than a couple swear words

Part 6

29 weeks

“What are you doing?”

“Researching how to murder someone and get away with it.” You mutter, typing where to buy a tiger in Google.

Becca gives you a wary look and sits next to you. “Everything okay?”

“No!” You groan in frustration, tossing your phone on the coffee table. “Matthew is driving me insane.”

She frowns. “Is he being an ass?”

“He’s being nice. Too nice.” You grumble, ignoring when Becca chuckles. “It’s like he’s trying to make up for missing the doctor’s appointment even though I told him I forgive him.”

Becca raises an eyebrow at you and you try to ignore her pointed look. “Do you though?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask defensively.

“You’re different around him now and I’m sure he’s noticed. It’s like you don’t trust him.”

You start to deny her accusation but stop to think about it. Were you more cautious around Matt lately? You certainly didn’t let yourself depend on him for things that you had been before, too afraid that he would let you down. You wanted to, but there was a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you that he’s let you down before and there’s always a chance he will again.

It’s as if Becca can read your mind because she shrugs. “You should be honest with him.”

However, something you’ve learned recently is that too much honestly can get you in trouble.

. . .

Sending Matt a text that said we need to talk, probably wasn’t the best approach because it took him approximately fifteen minutes to show up at your apartment and his is a half hour drive away from yours.

So his windblown hair and wide eyes really weren’t a surprise when you opened your front door.

“So, I think I should have worded that text a little better.”

“You think?” He huffs, walking past you when you step aside. He doesn’t even bother to take his shoes or jacket off, walking straight to the living room and turning to look at you.

“I’m sorry. For whatever I did.” He says and you groan.

“That’s the problem! Stop being sorry for things. It’s driving me nuts.”

He frowns and looks at you in confusion. “So… you don’t want me to be sorry for things?”

“I don’t want you to not be sorry for things, I just want you to stop being sorry for everything. It’s like you’re walking on eggshells around me.”

“I’m just trying to make-”

“Make up for missing the appointment.” you say, finishing his sentence. “I know.” your hand falls to your stomach and you sigh. “We’re going to be parents in less than three months. We need to start trusting each other.”

Matt slowly walks over to you and reaches out for your hand which you let him hold. His thumb rubs across the back of it and he nods.

“You’re right.”

You grin and lightly punch his shoulder with your free hand. “Of course I am. When am I ever wrong?”

He smiles, pulling you in for a hug and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You ignore the way it makes your heart race because the last thing you need right now is your feelings for him to get even more confusing when you’re both finally on the same page.

Things are good now and you can’t risk messing it up.

. . .

31 weeks

He’s like a kid in a candy store, you’ve realized as you follow Matt around buy buy BABY. He has two carts, one already stocked full of things and the other slowly being filled. You stopped keeping count of how much everything costed an hour ago because the number started to make you queasy.

“He has enough clothes, Matty.” You whine, taking note of how Matt trips over his feet when you call him by that nickname. “and he’ll grow out of them before he even gets a chance to wear them.”

“Last one, I swear.” He says, holding up an outfit. “C’mon, how fucking cute is he going to look in this?”

“If his first word is a swear word, I’m going to kill you.” You mutter, taking the outfit from him and tossing it in the cart. Matt just grins and rests a hand on your stomach, hoping the baby will kick.

“How’s Joey?”

“Grayson is doing just fine.”

“We’re never going to come to an agreement on a name, are we?” he asks and you smile sweetly.

“Nope.”

He laughs and starts walking towards the checkouts.

“Did my mom tell you that they’re coming to visit?” He asks and you nod, recalling your conversation with Chantal. She’d called you first to make sure you were okay with the entire Tkachuk clan showing up. She knows how stressful pregnancy is and didn’t want to overwhelm you.

But you were ecstatic when she asked if it was okay for them to visit. You’ve grown to depend on her for any pregnancy questions over the past seven months and even when you needed some regular advice for everyday things, you sometimes texted her.

“Yeah, it’s Wednesday, right?”

Matt nods, smiling politely at the cashier as he starts loading every thing on the conveyor belt. You can tell that she’s a hockey fan by the way her eyes light up when she recognizes who he is.

“I’ve been meaning to ask if you can pick them up from the airport?” He asks, catching you off guard. “Their plane lands around noon and I won’t be back until later that night and I don’t really want them to have to take a cab.”

You’re a little surprised that he’s asking you to do this instead of paying someone or asking a close friend to do it instead. It’s an odd feeling, realizing that he trusts you with his family.

“Yeah, I’d love to.” You tell him and his smile warms you to the bone.

. . .

You show up to the airport forty-five minutes early because you can’t decide if you should wait in the SUV for Matt’s family, or meet them in the airport. Would it be weird to wait for them inside like you would with your own friends or family? You double check your phone to make sure that Matt did tell them it was you picking them up because how weird would it be if they were expecting him only to find you waiting.

You’re definitely over thinking it but you find yourself standing at the gates when their plane lands.

Chantal is the first person you see and her face lights up and she scurries over to you, pulling you in for a soft hug.

“Oh, look at you!” She gushes, taking your hands in hers and holding you at arms length. “You’re glowing.”

Glowing isn’t exactly the word you would use because as much as you tried to look nice to pick them up, you’re still seven months pregnant, sweating because of the jacket you have on and most definitely are wearing odd shoes because you can no longer see your feet and Matt wasn’t here to check for you.

But you blush nonetheless, letting Keith, Taryn, and Brady hug you before starting to walk to baggage claim.

“Thank you for picking us up.” Chantal says and you smile.

“It’s nothing,” you say, brushing it off. “You’ve done a lot for me.”

“Anything I can do to help. I know how hard it is being pregnant with your man travelling a lot.”

You want to correct her when she calls Matt your man, but you don’t want to be impolite so you just nod.

“Speaking of your man,” Brady says in a teasing voice, “what time does he get in, again?”

“Around 8.” You say, ignoring the teasing tone and changing the subject to ask Taryn how school is going. You know you’ll hear more comments about the nature of your relationship with Matt from his brother but for now, you chat with Taryn and Chantal about plans for the baby.

. . .

Matt gave you a key to his apartment when you both realized that you spent more time at his these days then you did at your own so you don’t miss the knowing looks Chantal and Keith share when you use your key to unlock Matt’s apartment. You know they can tell it’s your key and not Matt’s because he painted it your favourite colour when he gave it to you.

“So do we get a sneak peak of the nursery?” Taryn asks hopefully and you nod, gesturing for her to follow you. Matt turned one of the guest rooms in to the nursery in his apartment. You haven’t done anything with yours yet because you and Matt were starting to wonder if after the baby is born, at least for a little while, the two of you should just live together. It would certainly make things much easier.

“It’s beautiful.” Chantal says, and you can see her eyes watering a little.

“We’re going to put up letters spelling his name above the crib.”

“Oh yeah, have you guys decided on a name yet?” Keith asks, testing the sturdiness of the crib by wiggling it a little.

“No.” You mutter. “We can’t agree on anything.”

“You’ll find something you both love eventually.” Chantal reassures you. “Now, please tell me my son has food in his fridge, because I’m going to cook dinner.”

You grin, realizing that she too knows how bad Matt is at keeping his fridge stocked. Before you started spending so much time here, you would be lucky if he had eggs in the fridge.

. . .

Matt arrives home just as dinner is cooked and you get to witness what a typical Tkachuk night must look like. There’s lots of chirps thrown but you can tell how close this family is and how much they care about each other. Especially when it comes to Matt and his mom and sister. He treats them like gold and it warms your heart to see it.

After dinner, you volunteer to clean up and you’re surprised when Keith offers to help. You’ve only spoken to him a few times before today and you don’t feel as close to him as you do with Chantal so it’s quiet while the two of you clear up the dishes.

Keith breaks the silence after a couple minutes, turning to look at you.

“I know Matthew can be a handful… but don’t give up on him, okay?”

You’re surprised to hear this coming from Keith because you were truthfully expecting Taryn or Brady to say something about it. Every time you and Matthew touched or spoke to each other, you noticed the knowing looks and soft smiles from the other Tkachuk family members.

It was like they knew something that neither you nor Matthew did.

You’re not sure what exactly to say so you just nod.

“I won’t.” You promise, realizing that you truly mean it.

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #calgary flames imagines #calgary flames fanficton #allies writing

[kipscorner]

Headernotes:

- THIS IS A LONG POST! - Anything in Parenthesis, feel free to change or remove - Feel free to change pronouns to match - Thank you for reblogging and using! <3

“(Name), can you explain again what we're doing?”

We're kicking off our fun, old-fashioned family Christmas by heading out into the country in the old front-wheel drive sleigh...to embrace the majesty of the winter landscape...and select that most important of Christmas symbols.”

“We're not driving all the way here so you can get one of those stupid ties with the Santa Clauses on it, are we?”

“Some jackass is riding my tail.”

“(Name)! Don't provoke them!”

“Burn some dust here. Eat my rubber.”

“Eat my road grit, liver lips!”

“(Name), stop it! I don't want to spend the holidays dead!”

“Will you just take it easy, (Name)? I'm in complete control.”

“(Name), we're stuck under a truck!”

“Do you think I don't know that?”

“For Christ sake, I didn't do this on purpose!” 

“My toes are numb.”

“I can't feel my leg.”

“(Name), that thing wouldn't fit in our yard.”

“It's not going in our yard, (Name). It's going in our living room.”

“She'll see it later, (Name). Her eyes are frozen.”

“Hey, (Name)! Where do you think you're gonna put a tree that big?”

“You've got a lot of nerve talking to me like that.”

“I wasn't talking to you.”

“It looks great. A little full. A lot of sap.”

“Did I tell you I talked to my mother?”

“They've decided they're coming for Christmas too.”

“You're forgetting how difficult it's gonna be having everybody in the house.”

“(Name), they're family. They're not strangers off the street.”

“Yeah. And about my mother accusing your mother of buying cheap hot dogs. And your mother accusing my mother of waxing her upper lip.”

“I want to have Christmas here in our house. It means a lot to me. All my life I've wanted to have a big family Christmas.”

“The question is, what will you do with that bonus? Gonna blow it on yourself, I hope.”

“Oh, my God, you're putting in a pool.”

“Layman's terms. None of that inside bullshit jargon nobody understands.”

“Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Kiss my ass. Kiss his ass. Kiss your ass.Happy Hanukkah.”

“Wouldn't be the Christmas shopping season if stores were less hooter--Hotter than they are.”

“You have your coat on.”

“There is a nip in the air though.”

“Can I take something out for you?”

“'Tis the season to be merry.”

“Folks! Folks! Folks! Merry Christmas!”

“Look at how big you've gotten!”

“They're not sleeping in my room. I'm gonna go crazy.”

“We're gonna have the best-looking house in town.”

“Come on, unravel these. You have to check every bulb. Got a little knot here. You work on that. I'll get the other box.”

“Would it be indecent to ask the grandparents to stay at a hotel?”

“We're all making sacrifices, (Name).”

“Well, I don't know what to say except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.”

“And why is the carpet all wet, (Name)?”

I don't know, (Name)!”

“I hope nobody I know drives by and sees me standing in the yard, staring at the house in my pajamas.”

“Talk about pissing your money away.”

“Let's get in where it's warm.”

“Now, look, if you need any help...give me a holler. I'll be asleep.”

“Where the hell is that cold coming from?”

“I want to take off these clothes, sit with a glass of wine and kiss your body.”

“Are you out here for a reason, or are you just avoiding the family?”

“Do you honestly think I would check thousands of lights if the extension cord wasn't plugged in?”

“You deserve a home like this to spend Christmas in.”

“You taught me everything I know about exterior illumination.”

“I hope this adds to your enjoyment of the holidays.”

“You got a kiss for me?”

“Better take a rain check on that. (pronouns) got a lip fungus they ain't identified yet.”

“We named him that because he's got this sinus condition.”

“You pet him and he'll love you till the day you die.”

“If I woke up with my head sewn to the carpet, I wouldn't be more surprised then I am right now.”

“After that long drive, we could use a little private time together.”

“(Name), help me get some hot chocolate. It's cold.”

“A little tree water ain't gonna hurt him. Before we left, he drank a half a quart of Pennzoil. Boy, when he lifted his leg the next morning…”

“It's a crying shame the older kids couldn't make it.”

“She's got these big horns growing right out above her ears. Yeah, she's ugly as sin, but a sweet gal. And a hell of a good cook.”

“Can I refill your eggnog? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to nowhere and leave you for dead?”

“Oh, that there? That's an RV.”

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of an important call. Get me somebody. Anybody. And get me somebody while I wait.”

“We're gonna fly down the hill with this stuff.”

“You know that metal plate in my head? I had to have it replaced because every time (Name) revved up the microwave...I'd piss my pants and forget who I was for a half-hour or so.”

“Nothing like waiting till the last minute, huh?”

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

“You shouldn't use that word.”

“I don't think he should be nervous and you shouldn't be either. Because if you're good, Santa knows it. If you believe in him and you believe in your mom and you believe in your...Your dad. If you've been good all year round, Santa is gonna bring you something.”

“Well, I happen to know for a fact that Santa Claus is real. And in the next couple of days… somehow I'm gonna prove it to you.”

“It's good you came to stay with us.”

“I think you'd better go back to bed now.”

“Aren't you having any breakfast?”

“Oh, the silent majesty of a winter's morn. The clean, cool chill of the holiday air.

And an asshole in his bathrobe emptying a chemical toilet into my sewer.”

“It's a sewer. If it fills with gas, I pity the person who lights a match near it.”

“Merry Christmas. Shitter was full!”

“In seven years he couldn't find a job?”

“(Name) and I want to help you give the kids a nice Christmas.”

“This isn't charity. It's family.”

“If you don't tell me what they want, I'll go out and get it on my own.”

“Is your house on fire, (Name)?”

“No, those are Christmas lights.”

“Don't throw me down, (Name).”

“Oh, that was fun. I love riding in cars.”

“Oh, dear. Did I break wind?”

“You shouldn't have brought presents.”

“This box is meowing.”

“(Name)? (pronoun) passed away 30 years ago.”

“They want you to say grace. The blessing!”

“I told you we put it in too early.”

“I heard on the news that a pilot spotted Santa's sled on its way from New York.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, (Name)?”

“If he keeps it up, it will be his last Christmas.”

“Look what you've done to my tree!”

“It was an ugly tree, anyway.”

“I'm sorry if I've been a little short with everyone lately.”

“...I didn't have enough in my account to cover the check.”

“I can't swim, (Name).”

“(Name), that's the gift that keeps on giving the whole year.”

“If this isn't the biggest punch in the face I ever got. Goddamn it!”

“I wanna look him straight in the eye and tell him what a cheap, lying, no good, rotten, four-flushing low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless heartless, fat-assed, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?”

“He's got that crazed look in his eye.”

“Turn that thing off and get in the house!”

“Aren't you a bit sorry we didn't get a Christmas tree?”

“Well, where you gonna find a tree at this hour on Christmas Eve?”

“Could you just keep it in mind the next time you go berserk?”

“I didn't go berserk. I simply solved a problem.”

“You couldn't hear a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant.”

“I'm gonna catch it in the coat and smack it with the hammer.”

“I'm going in with him.”

“You just march right over there and slug that creep in the face.”

“I can't just attack someone.”

“Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm

holiday emergency here.”

“We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fuckin’ Kaye.”

“And when Santa squeezes his ass down that chimney tonight he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nut house.”

“Worse? How could they get any worse? Take a look around you, (Name). We're at the threshold of hell!”

“You losing your temper with the whole family only makes things worse.”

“Are you gonna recite The Night Before Christmas?”

“No. It's your house. It's your Christmas.”

“You about ready to do some kissing?”

“I'm sorry. This is our family's first kidnapping.”

“I'll be more than happy to take the rap on this.”

“If you wanna come in, you are gonna have to break down the goddamn door!”

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

“I did something I shouldn't have, and these people called me on it.”

“It's Santa Claus!”

“She thinks she sees Santa.”

“No, it's the Christmas star. And that's all that matters tonight. Not bonuses or gifts or turkeys or trees. See, kids...it means something different to everybody. Now I know what it means to me.”

“That ain't the frigging Christmas star. It's a light on the sewage treatment plant.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

#Christmas Meme #christmas inbox meme #christmas vacation #national lampoons christmas vacation #sentence starters

[elijahs-wife]

Sick Day

Requested by @hellotvshowtrash: “Hi I just really love your Elijah fics. Can you do on that’s about Elijah taking care of the reader after an injury or while they’re sick?” I’M SORRY THIS TOOK AAAGES TO POST! Life has been kinda nuts lately and it was hard to find motivation and time to write. I’m not 100% happy with this but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

Like/reblog if you liked reading this and want to see more from me!

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1810+

Warnings: none that I can think of

The harsh noon sunlight streamed in through the gap in the curtains, burning against Y/N’s eyelids and disturbing her sleep. She stirred awake, blinking a few times to clear her sleep-fogged vision, while the headache from last night returned, only this time it was magnified and coupled with a runny nose and a sore throat. Touching a hand to her forehead, her suspicions were confirmed – she was running a fever as well. There was no air conditioning in her room, one of many testaments as to why the rent was so cheap, and it was far too hot to go back to sleep. Flinging the covers off of her, she slowly and reluctantly rolled out of bed, and reached for her phone on the nightstand. Crap, it’s almost 12.30, she thought as she noted the time on the screen, but she definitely didn’t have the energy to care too much. Besides, it was a Saturday, so at least she didn’t have to go to work. Rummaging through the drawer below, she discovered that she was clean out of Advil. Perfect.

She shuffled into the living room in her pyjamas, immediately slumping onto the couch. It was extremely old and had come with the apartment, but its age had made it soft and comfortable. After fumbling around between the cushions for the TV remote, she switched it on and found a channel playing a Harry Potter marathon. The pain in her head was as though someone was repeatedly banging her head against the wall, not to mention the constant sniffling and the feeling of having blades in her throat every time she swallowed. Well, if I have to die today, at least I’ll get to see Malfoy get punched in the face one last time, she thought, laughing to herself. Taking a proper look at her phone for the first time, she saw 3 missed calls and a few texts from Elijah and remembered that she was supposed to be at the compound right now, spending time with him like they had planned. Obviously, that wasn’t going to work out now. She started dialing his number to explain her absence, when she heard the slow click of the front door opening. Instinctively, she grabbed the first thing she saw as a weapon and shrunk into the couch in an attempt to hide – she wasn’t an expert with hand-to-hand combat and rushing in guns ablaze would certainly result in injury. However, a more than familiar voice called out her name. “Y/N?”

“Elijah?” she exclaimed, sitting up to look at him properly. His face, clouded by worry, did a double take when he saw her. “Might I ask why you were crouched on the sofa holding a candlestick?” he asked, utterly bewildered. “Well, I thought you were an intruder! You didn’t exactly make yourself known”, she grumbled, still disoriented by his sudden appearance at her place. Elijah tried and failed to stifle a laugh. “You thought a candlestick would be your best weapon against an intruder?” She shot him a dirty look. “Don’t snark me. I’m too sick to snark you back”, she sighed, laying her head back. In a second, he was beside her, taking in her haggard appearance – reddened nose and tired, glassy eyes. “Baby, you look exhausted”, he murmured while cupping her face gently, the concern obvious in his voice. Y/N melted against his touch; his silky voice so soothing that she could have sworn the headache faded for a moment. She then spotted the large plastic bags at his feet. “What’s in the bags?” she questioned, gesturing at them.

“Well, it’s all for you”, he replied, pulling them up to show her. “I wasn’t sure what medicines you had lying around so I bought a bit of everything: NyQuil, cough drops, ibuprofen for the headache. And I took the liberty of buying some groceries. You’re sick, and I’m going to take care of you”, he declared almost smugly. She was beyond confused now. “How could you even know I was sick? I literally woke up fifteen minutes ago, I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet,” she admitted, immediately regretting her outburst of truth. His expression remained amused as he replied, “You were supposed to meet me two hours ago, but you never showed, so naturally, I was a little worried. I came here and compelled your landlord to let me in. You were fast asleep, of course, but when I saw that you had a fever, I thought I would stay here to look after you till you got better.” His voice softened towards the end of his sentence.

“You know, some people would find that creepy. I, for one, find it extremely normal”, she mused sarcastically, to which he simply rolled his eyes before giving her a playful kiss on the nose. “Oh God,” she groaned, covering her face with a couch cushion, “It is too early on in our relationship for you to see me looking this gross”, she said, her already nasal voice muffled through the thick layers of fabric. He burst out laughing, and gently removed the cushion from her face. “My love, I’ve been alive for over a millennium. Nothing that I see today could be ‘gross’ to me. Now”, he said, pulling back her hair and securing it in a ponytail with the scrunchie that was on her arm, “why don’t you go and brush your teeth while I make you something to eat?”

The way that the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled down at her was so adorable, she couldn’t help but smile back. Elijah had always been kind to her, even before they started dating, but ever since they did he had been nothing short of perfect – sweet and caring, and unfailingly loyal, always willing to go above and beyond to make her happy although his mere presence was enough. That’s just the kind of person he was. “Alright”, she replied, forcing herself up and trudging her way to the bathroom to freshen up.

-

Elijah heard her leaving the bathroom, the soles of her fuzzy slippers shuffling against the wooden floorboards. She pulled her fluffy robe tighter around her body to help with the chills, while a familiar, comforting smell drifted through the air. Although she was hungry, Y/N headed straight for the bag of medicines on the counter to find the Advil – her head was still throbbing, and she desperately needed some relief. It wasn’t easy to find, given that he had evidently bought the entire pharmacy and fit it all in one bag. After finally finding it, she noticed that Elijah had already put out a glass of water for her and glanced at him in silent appreciation. Clearly, his thoughtfulness knew no bounds. Looking around the tiny kitchen, she saw a large pot on the stove that he stirred from time to time. After gulping down a pill with a swig of water, she plodded back to the sofa and sat lengthways, taking up more than half the space to get comfortable while waiting for the painkiller to take effect. “So, what’s on the menu today, Chef Elijah?” she teased.

He scoffed humorously, “Making packeted soup hardly makes me a chef, Y/N. But, when you are feeling well again, I will gladly demonstrate my skills in the kitchen.” She watched him work over the back of the couch, appreciating the view of his arms in rolled up sleeves. “Can we get ice cream later?” she piped up hopefully, a sudden hankering for it coming over her. He looked at her sternly. “Ice cream will only aggravate your symptoms”, he said firmly. “Perhaps later.” She pouted at him and turned away in a huff as he gave the pot a final stir before switching off the gas. “The soup is now done”, he announced, already ladling some into a bowl and bringing it to her. She took it gratefully – the last meal she had had was yesterday’s dinner, and that was many hours ago. The first spoonful felt like heaven: rich, savory, and hot, it numbed the pain in her throat, at least temporarily.

For a while, they quietly sat in front of the TV while she ate, watching the movie, his arm loosely wrapped around her shoulders. Setting the empty bowl aside when she was done, she blew her nose unceremoniously into a tissue. “Sorry", she muttered with a grimace, her physical discomfort far overshadowing the desire for self-preservation. “There’s nothing to be sorry about”, he said, gently stroking her hair, “but clearly it’s time for more medicine.” He stood up and was back in less than a second with all the medicines he had bought and a large glass of water. He examined all the boxes closely, making sure to read all the fine print, deciding which ones to administer. Even in her poorly state, she couldn't help the amused giggle escaping her lips as she watched him hunched over, reading intently.

“Something amusing?” he asked dryly, not looking away from the bottle of cough syrup in his hands. She shook her head silently, trying to suppress her laughter which immediately faded when she saw the assortment of capsules and pills that he handed her. Examining and identifying them herself, she decided that they would all help her symptoms. So even though it was the last thing she felt like doing, she swallowed all of them, finishing off the glass of water. “More water?” he asked. She shook her head, starting to cough in short painful bursts. He tried rubbing her back gently, which only helped a little. “My throat hurts really bad, Elijah.” Grateful that he had read a few articles online about food for flu patients while at the pharmacy, he rushed to the fridge and back, holding out a yogurt.

She looked at the carton with a quizzically raised brow. “It’s supposed to soothe the throat”, Elijah explained. “It’s cold so it will calm your throat, and healthy for you. Full of good bacteria.” He stared expectantly, waiting for her to eat it. “I don’t see why I couldn’t have just had ice cream”, she complained, digging her spoon into the plastic cup with contempt before eating it. He was right though; it did calm her throat down. Laughing gently, he pulled himself closer to her, wrapping his arm around her a little tighter. She relaxed against him, leaning her head and shoulders on his chest. “Thank you”, she said, her voice coming out smaller than she had intended. “For taking care of me.” Y/N felt him smile above her. “Well, I had to. I’m kind of in love with you”, he said, his feigned nonchalance making her giggle while she pulled away to look up at him.

“I’m kind of in love with you too.”

#elijah mikaelson #elijah x reader #elijah imagines #elijah one shots #the originals #the originals fanfiction #i swear im going to write for more characters also can you tell i hate titling fics #it literally makes me scream

[officerjennie]

23 with all the Witcher characters you'll write

Anon.

-squishes your face-

Anon I love you. I wish you nothing but the absolute best life anyone could ever imagine, because you have given me such a gift.

Characters included here: Jaskier, Aiden, Lambert, Geralt, Eskel, Vesemir (let’s be real, he’s just there for the snacks. Catch him filling his pockets with nuts and pastries to horde in his office). Prompt: orgy

(edit most of the way through writing this: HOW THE FUCK DID I WRITE SOMETHING FOR THE PROMPT ORGY AND INCLUDE NO SEX, I JUST-)

--

Despite popular believe, Jaskier had the best ideas.

The entirety of his previous afternoon had been spent with preparations for the event. It had only taken a little bit of bribing to convince Vesemir that this wasn’t going to end horrifically or with some destruction or another, and really only another bottle of (very expensive) wine as the cherry on top to be given permission to use the mess hall in Kaer Morhen as the location. Though honestly, there wasn’t anywhere else that would have suited the party - so Jaskier was very glad no more bribing was in order there.

If he was honest, convincing everyone to take part in it was the easy part. One really didn’t know the definition of ‘sexually repressed’ until one met a horny witcher who was trying to deny himself the lusts of the skin and Jaskier could count on his first three fingers some witchers that suited that bill to the T.

The fact that he knew exactly five made that rather sad, but he digressed.

With some rather flirtatious invitations, Jaskier had secured participation, but that was only phase one of his plans. After that was making it an actual party, an event, because there was no way in all of the fresh hells that he would let this be even close to mediocre. 

So, the table settings began.

At the end of the evening he found himself spinning in glee, hands clapped in front of his face, fingers touching his lips as he admired his handiwork. All done by himself - the boys could all thank him later for his hard work, since he’d wanted it to all be a surprise for the lot of them, and he had honestly outdone himself.

He hoped no one asked how he got the flowers during this time of year. Some secrets were better left untouched.

It was close to dark, the outside colors bringing in brilliant oranges and purples, when Jaskier set off to round everyone up. Geralt was the first person he found - a given, really. He’d spent enough time traveling around with him that he knew exactly where he’d be, the exact position he’d be in on his bed as he sharpened his sword (because his daggers would have been the first he sharpened, and it was too late in the evening for him to be starting on the task), no doubt trying to pretend like he wasn’t looking forward to anything or affected by the thought of such an event.

His rather tight pants gave him away, though. With a very firm kiss to his delicious lips and a swipe of his eager tongue, Jaskier let Geralt know it was ready. He tugged him up off the bed and patted his arse and sent him on his way, determined to find everyone else before he went down himself and got far too distracted.

The grumbling he heard from his witcher just made him smile more.

It took a little longer to locate Eskel, but Jaskier had figured it easier to find him than the others. Surprisingly he hadn’t been out visiting Lil’ Bleater, the little lady having already been put up snug in her bed, bleating out so cutely when she saw Jaskier that he had to spent a few minutes giving her some love before he went on his way. As he did, he couldn’t help but think about how witchers just...really did love to imprint on animals. Geralt with his precious Roach, Eskel with his classy lady. He wondered what sort of animal Vesemir might relate to, or Lambert?

Wait, no, he didn’t want to know that second one. He blinked in horror and set that thought firmly to a forgotten corner of his mind to grow dust.

Instead of finding Eskel with his adorable little lady, Jaskier ended up running into him in the kitchen. It had been the smell of some wondrous pastries that had clued him in, drawing him in like the hungry sweets demon he was, his fingers already itching to snatch some up and run away with his booty.

Not that he really needed to steal one. It was just more fun that way.

Sure enough, his nose had not lied to him. Eskel was pulling out some of his own handmade and famously delicious apple pastries out of the oven just as Jaskier peeked his head in, and his mouth watered just at the sight. Also, dare he say it, but Eskel was very cute with flour dusted on his spikey, scary shirt.

“Are those for little ol’ me?”

Eskel didn’t startle at his voice but Jaskier didn’t expect him to, used to the terrifyingly good hearing that came with all of the other witcher mutations. “You did say snacks, right? Figured these might do.”

“Oh! Oh, Eskel,” Jaskier felt his eyes tearing up, skipping into the kitchen and just stopping himself from flinging his arms around his now officially second favorite witcher. He skidded to a stop right in front of him, wringing his hands with emotion to keep from burning himself or Eskel (or accidentally impaling himself on said scary spikey shirt). “You really didn’t have to, I had the snacks all set up and planned out, but I’m ever so touched you did! Oh, these will make the perfect addition.”

“They have to cool first, Jask.” Eskel had a very knowing twinkle in his eye as he stepped around the bard, going to place the flat pan on a rack he had set up on the table. “I’ll bring them down when they’re ready, then you can have one.”

Jaskier pouted, eyeing the pastries and wondering if it was worth burning both his fingers and his tongue on them. Which, yes, it was, but he’d rather not disappoint the pastry chef. So he deflated with a deep sigh, content in knowing that he’d get some later - and that Eskel very much did not forget about his plans.

Vesemir was next on his list, and it only took one single stop by his office to remind him. All Jaskier had to do was knock on his door and wait patiently for Vesemir to say he could come in, then he poked his head in to see if he’d be joining them.

“I’ll be there.”

That’s all the answer Jaskier got, and he considered it good enough. With him checked off the list, there was only two left, and they would thankfully be easy to locate this evening. They weren’t usually - well, Lambert by himself was. But any time Aiden was joining them for the winter Lambert was made scarce, always off doing something with his dear friend, and that something was usually mischief.

Aiden was a wonderful and a horrid influence on Lambert, and everyone adored him for it. Most of the time. 

Luckily, Jaskier already knew where they were. He’d heard their training all the way in the keep and made his way to the training grounds, stopping by Geralt’s room to steal one of his coats on his way, not willing to face the cold with his own considering Geralt’s were much warmer (even if much less fashionable - had the man never heard of color?).

As it happened, they’d just recently stopped their training session - luck considering how long they’d go some evenings. Both of them had abandoned their shirts at some point, maybe even right at the start of their training, though Jaskier wasn’t sure how either of them could stand it when the snow in some places came up to his shins.

Stupid sexy witchers. It was entirely unfair. Both the cold resistant part and the sexy part. 

“Hey, little songbird.” Aiden stretched his arm back and rested it against his shoulder, dangling his sword behind him and watching as Jaskier’s eyes followed the movement. “S’time already?”

With his mouth suddenly quite dry, and what with his feet suddenly not knowing how to walk in snow, Jaskier had to stumble out some sort of an answer. Not that he could really hear it, he was paying too much attention to how Aiden flexed his arm just so - damn stupid sexy witchers.

Lambert laughed at him without a single ounce of pity, and if Jaskier’s brain wasn’t currently melting he would have pointed out that the same damn tricks worked on him if Aiden wanted them to. At least Aiden took some pity on him after that, heading back to the keep and shooting him a wicked grin as he brushed past him. 

Even with all the snow, it was suddenly a bit too warm for the coat he’d nabbed.

But that - that was everyone. Jaskier shook himself, a wide grin blooming on his face, the cold air biting at his cheeks and nose. Everyone was headed to the mess hall, the snack tables and punch were all ready. Eskel had been kind enough to make some of his apple pastries which would be a big hit. And! Jaskier had procured enough lubricant that they wouldn’t all be regretting it come the morning.

He rubbed his hands together as he turned around, hurrying back to get to the mess hall himself. This, without a single doubt, was his best idea yet - and hands down a night that he would always remember. 

#written over several days and not proofread not sorry #how do i even tag this #jaidertaltesk #...that just looks like the typical Gay Panic Keyboard Smash #big poly #jaskier #aiden #lambert #geralt #eskel #vesemir #the witcher #fanfiction #mywriting #crosspost later #i'm not saying Vesemir WOULDN'T join in on a big smexy pile #i'm just saying he saw snacks and has his priorities straight #....how did I manage to write for This Prompt and not include anything close to Lemony? #lemony in spirit but not in practice #Anon love #asks

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe Alternate Future chapter 19: Change your Heart (originally published on July 19, 2021)

AN: So, trying to reform Kevin. Might be a Herculean task to some, but for me, I think I'll try my best. And given that this is almost directly after last chapter, Steven might find this just as challenging since he would continuously resist the urge to go pink and break Kevin's face. But more to the point, let's get things started.

Synopsis: Kevin comes back wanting to become a genuinely better person, but Steven gets suspicious.

Cast:

Zach Callison as Steven, Cactus Stevens

Andrew Kishino as Kevin

Jinkx Monsoon as Emerald

Melissa Fahn as Demantoid

Kari Wahlgren as Pyrope

Jennifer Paz as Laz

Michelle Maryk as Larimar

Deedee Magno-Hall as Volleyball

Auli'I Cravalho as Orange Spodumene

Michaela Dietz as Crazy Lace Agate

Colton Dunn as Mr. Smiley

--

A few days after Steven's faithful visit to the doctor, he went about today trying to keep a lid on his emotions as much as possible as he strolled through the boardwalk, passing by his Beach City friends and tourists along the way.

"Just gotta find something that always makes me happy to take my mind off all that trauma," Steven muttered to himself. He could go to the Big Donut, but something told him it just wouldn't be the same with Dewey running the counter instead of Lars and Sadie. He could also go to Fish Stew Pizza or the docks, but then he would just be reminded of Sadie Killer and the Suspects breaking up. However, there was still one local hangout associated with a friend that hasn't drifted apart from Steven just yet. "Maybe I could give the arcade a shot."

Walking towards the Funland Arcade, Steven found Mr. Smiley just getting done with carrying some new games into the arcade while a poster advertising those games was hanging outside the building. "Just came in: multiplayer version of beloved video game series Undiscovered." Steven read the poster. "Come one, come all."

"That's not all, the good folks at Sumy also have a ton of other classics downloaded too!" Mr. Smiley said to Steven. "Champion of Conflict, Pressure Scramble, Distorted Plastic, all of them GameStation legends! Come try one of them once in a while."

"Well, maybe Undiscovered could help me blow off some steam after the past two days." Steven realized as he stepped into the arcade to play some Undiscovered and pick the series' rugged, hot-shot leading man William Vespucci to play as. However, what he didn't realize until it was too late was that someone else had picked Vespucci's friendly rival Columbus.

"Well well well, been a long while, hasn't it….uh…." Kevin greeted Steven, only to stop short while trying to remember his young one-sided enemy's name. "Ben, was it? You look like a Ben. Or maybe a Finn."

"Hello, Kevin." Steven greeted the bad boy in a strained voice, resisting the urge to put the controller down and punch him in the face. "What brings you here?"

"Well, word on the street is that you've been teaching Gems that once tried to kill you how to be nice to others." Kevin stated. "And I thought, 'hey, why don't I have a slice of that pie?' So that's why I found you."

"Are you sure this is not another excuse to see Stevonnie again?" Steven asked as the game continued. "Because Connie and I are currently abstaining from-"

"Look kid, you were able to get a bunch of sexy galactic terrorists to stop being terrorists, so why not do the same with me?" Kevin suggested with a smarmy grin. "Well, minus the terrorists part. You still get what I mean, right?"

Steven paused the game and turned to Kevin suspiciously. On one hand, the older boy did seem genuine in his offer, but on the other, it seemed like just another excuse to hit on girls. However, Steven did give the likes of Peridot and the Diamonds a second chance, so as Kevin said, he could probably do the same to him.

"Alright, I'll help you." Steven accepted the offer. "After this round of Undiscovered, I'm gonna take you to Little Homeworld to show you around and teach you some basic kindness. But know this, I'm keeping an eye on you."

"Oh, don't you worry, I'm going to be 100% respectful of others the whole way through." Kevin stated confidently. "Now let's get back to gaming."

The two then returned to playing Undiscovered, and they kept on playing for most of the morning until Steven decided it was time for them to go.

--

"So, this is where the magic happens, eh?" Kevin asked Steven as he was driven out of Beach City and taken to Little Homeworld, where he watched many Gems of all shapes and sizes learn how to fit in on Earth and let go of their oppressive pasts. "Is it true that most of these babes were monsters at some point?"

"Yes, they were monsters." Steven answered. "And please don't call them babes, we discussed this."

"I know, but who's to blame for making them all women?" Kevin tried justifying his earlier comment while they got out of the Dondai.

"You know, I never once asked about where the Gem race came from." Steven came to a realization. "Might have to make a note of that later." As Steven looked around the Gem village to see who he can introduce Kevin to first, he could hear a certain voice crying for revenge.

"LET ME GO YOU TRAITORS!" Emerald shrieked while Demantoid and Pyrope tried to keep her from reaching the Warp Pad at the center of Little Homeworld. "I must find our master, she is the only one that can save me!"

"She's been like this ever since we were unbubbled and enrolled here." Demantoid revealed. "While Pyrope and I have slowly gotten more acclimated to the place, Emerald here hasn't."

"Can't you see this tiny slave driver has brainwashed you all?!" Emerald declared with a finger pointed at Steven. "I will never submit to your concentration camp, never!"

"Yeah, she's going to be one tough nut to crack." Pyrope remarked before she got a look at Kevin. "Oh, and who could this be?"

"Name's Kevin, nice dress." Kevin greeted the Garnet with a kiss of her hand. "And I see your little screaming friend's got one eye. Not gonna discriminate, I like that in a girl."

"Kevin." Steven scolded his rival. "I'm teaching Kevin here how to be nicer to folks and less of a pervert. I think he really wants to change, but I'm still keeping an eye on him."

"But I complimented Pyrope's dress. That's gotta mean something, right?" Kevin asked Steven.

"That's a pretty good start, I'll admit, but you gotta do more than that." Steven advised. "Try striking up a conversation with her."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do." Kevin said before turning back to Pyrope. "So, how did you first get here?"

"Well Kevin, it all began when my partner Demantoid and I attempted an uprising against Era 3 using the Light Prisms we owned." Pyrope began explaining her backstory to the human. "We believed the Gem race would be lost without order and sought to install ourselves as the new rulers in place of the Diamonds. However, that would turn out badly and we were poofed & imprisoned, at least until Black Rutile broke us out of our prison to recruit us into her own uprising. But that turned out badly too and we were poofed in the ensuing battle for Earth. Since then, the only other member of Black Rutile's resistance that remained beside the three of us was a belligerent Lapis Lazuli who decided to come here after a Jasper saved her from shattering."

As Pyrope went on, Kevin, out of boredom, rolled his eyes and began to walk elsewhere while Steven crossly looked at him and Pyrope realized too late that Kevin was gone. "Um, where is he?" she asked.

"I'll find him." Steven groaned exasperatedly and walked off after Kevin.

"Pyrope, while you were talking, Emerald had made her escape." Demantoid stated to Pyrope. "I was able to keep her from using the Warp Pad, but that didn't stop her from hiding."

"Oh dear, how could I be so distracted?!" Pyrope exclaimed and raced off with the other Garnet to find Emerald.

--

"Hey cutie, like your curls." Kevin said while trying to hit on a very confused Laz. "What's your name, Baby Blue?"

"Um, Gems here call me Laz." Laz awkwardly introduced herself. "And you are?"

"You can call me the boy of your dreams!" Kevin declared with a flip of his hair, but his advances would have to wait.

"Kevin!" Steven yelled crossly. "You shouldn't have just walked out on Pyrope like that! And you were making good progress too by asking about her story."

"Hey, sorry, she just went on a bit too long." Kevin stated defensively. "And hey, I'm even making a new friend too."

"I was just minding my own business when he walked up and started smooth-talking me, honest." Laz added.

"Well, how about we use this opportunity to give you another lesson?" Steven suggested. "Say you're crossing the street and a woman is in front of a big puddle. What do you do?"

"Tell her to just walk around it?" Kevin answered, causing Steven to facepalm.

"No, you gotta take off your jacket and drop it over the puddle so she can cross." Steven corrected Kevin. "Like in the super old movies. Laz, could you make a puddle?"

"Okay then." Laz complied and generated a small puddle that looked ready to be stepped in with some water nearby. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked Kevin. "Just toss the jacket!"

"Seriously?! This is expensive, ya know!" Kevin grumbled while taking off his jacket to spread out on the puddle. "I didn't sign up for this." Once Kevin shed his jacket, he dropped it on the puddle and allowed Laz to cross.

"Thanks, I guess." Laz thanked the human awkwardly before turning to Steven. "See you around Steven."

"You're welcome." Kevin replied with a bow while Steven picked up the jacket. "There, I learned basic politeness. How about that?"

"Yeah, that's a good start." Steven complimented. "Good job Kev."

"Yes!" Kevin cheered. "Wait, did you just call me Kev?"

"Yeah, I didn't know what just happened either." Steven admitted. "Let's go for one more trial for today."

--

At the greenhouse where Peridot usually had her classes, the Cactus Stevens, now freed from Black Rutile's control, were helping Volleyball, Little Larimar, Orange Spodumene, and Crazy Lace Agate with some gardening when Steven & Kevin walked in.

"Oh, hello Steven." Volleyball greeted Steven. "Haven't seen you in a while, how are things?"

"Doing fine, just had a little meltdown a few days ago, but I'm recovering." Steven replied. "And by the way, I heard what happened at that trial on Homeworld. How long were you spying on us for Black Rutile?"

"Since not too long after you faced White Diamond." Volleyball revealed shyly while tears began to leak. "I was only forced to do it by Black Rutile and Holly Blue, though. But can you still forgive me?"

Before Steven could answer, Kevin pretended to loudly clear his throat to get everyone's attention. "It's cute that Cyclops here wants to apologize for whatever, but remember me?!"

"Sorry, Kevin." Steven apologized before introducing him to the Pearl. "I'd like you to meet Volleyball. She was Pink Diamond's former Pearl before getting her eye cracked and later brainwashed by White Diamond. Volleyball, meet Kevin. I hate his guts, but he wants to become a better person so I'm giving him a chance."

"So, your eye is cracked." Kevin gestured to Volleyball's damaged eye. "What's it like seeing with one eye? Does it, like, affect your sense of direction or whatever?"

"Oh no, I get around pretty fine, especially after fusing with Pearl." Volleyball answered brightly. "Ever since then, the crack still's there but you can barely see a pupil now too."

"Cool, cool." Kevin responded, trying to sound interested before he started looking around the greenhouse. "So let me guess, you grow plants here?"

"Exactly Kevin," Larimar said while holding a potted plant in her hands. "Look at the hydrangeas I'm growing!"

"And my daffodils." Orange Spodumene added as she showed off her flower.

"Watching them all grow is the best part!" Crazy Lace Agate cooed while intensely watching the hyacinths growing in her pot.

"Wow, you are all really into flowers, huh?" Kevin wondered while looking over Crazy Lace's shoulder. "I mean, Steven's teaching you all how to be crazy for Earth, so I won't judge."

"See, you're getting interested in what they're doing, and no sign of hitting on them." Steven declared. "Good job Kevin."

"I mean, after you yelled at me for getting bored during Pyrope's story, I just thought I should wise up a little bit." Kevin stated. "Isn't that what humans do or something, learn from mistakes and grow from them?"

"Yeah, that's pretty profound." Steven answered. "Especially coming from someone like you."

"You're right." Kevin realized. "Did I really just change that fast? I mean, I heard you were able to get those Diamonds to play nice with a silly one-liner and they changed just as quickly!"

"Well, not quite." Steven said. "They still got a lot to work out. Everybody does, even you. And me."

"Uh, what do you mean by that, and why do I have a feeling I'm not going to get a good answer?" Kevin asked nervously. Steven sheepishly looked around at the Gems in the greenhouse before taking Kevin away.

"Let's take this outside." Steven declared.

--

Steven took Kevin back to his car and the two drove away from Little Homeworld all the way back to Beach City in complete silence. A silence that Kevin found a bit concerning before the two returned to town before he finally spoke up. "Uh, anything the matter?" he asked. "You've been quiet since we left the greenhouse."

"It's just about what I've been through lately." Steven finally spoke up while stopping the car. "Ever since we last saw each other at that party, I've learned that my mom Rose Quartz was Pink Diamond, went to Homeworld where I saw the Crystal Gems get turned into extensions of White Diamond, nearly got killed by Spinel while all organic life was at risk of being killed by her injector, learned that a sociopathic revolutionary wants to kill me & conquer the galaxy and nearly got thrown off a cliff to my death. And that's only a few notable incidents."

"Wait, thrown off a cliff?!" Kevin exclaimed while the two boys emerged from the Dondai Supremo. "Sociopathic revolutionary? Dang, you been through a lot."

"Yep, and after all that, I learned that I basically have PTSD and my body has been acting really weird lately." Steven continued. "I sometimes turn pink when I get real angry, and more recently my body started inflating out of control a few days ago."

"Yeesh, am I lucky to not have a mom who's a Gem, no offense." Kevin sardonically sympathized. "My parents are usually off doing business or going to fancy parties."

"You know, that reminds me." Steven said as he sat down on the front of the Supremo. "What was your life like? I don't think I ever bothered to ask. Or maybe I hated you too much back then to even think of asking."

"You want my backstory? Well, here goes." Kevin answered and sat down next to Steven. "Just like me, my old man Winston was a real player and a pretty well-off guy. His philosophy of using the right words and moves to win hearts was what won him a wife, my mom Venus, and then came yours truly." He explained. "I was kind of a bit like you as a kid, really sensitive and sweet. But when my girlfriend Sabina ditched me, that was when my dad decided to teach me how to be a charmer. But unfortunately, that didn't win me many friends, especially you. But after spending time with you and helping you get back together with Connie, I just thought it would be time to make a change, but you were too busy to hear me out."

"So, you been wanting this ever since that night?" Steven gasped in realization.

"Yeah, right." Kevin replied. "Then again, like you said, I still got a lot to work out. Which reminds me, what's the status on you and Connie?"

"That's the thing, Kevin." Steven blushed while curling up into a ball. "I tried proposing to Connie so that I'd know what my future would hold, but she said no, and I let it bottle up until the next day at the doctor."

"Wait, you proposed to Connie?!" Kevin exclaimed in shock. "I mean, like, marriage proposal?! Aren't you a little young to get married?"

"Yes, yes I am." Steven replied solemnly. "But still, it was nice getting to talk about it with someone, even if it was with someone I hated in the past."

"You got that right." Kevin declared. "We sure got off on the wrong foot, but even I know you've been through a lot."

"And I know you can be different from your dad," Steven responded. "like how I want to be different from my mom."

"Yeah." Kevin stated before looking at his watch. "Whoo, look at the time!" he realized before hopping off the Dondai's hood. "Got places to be, but maybe we can do this again sometime!"

"If you ever want more niceness tips, you know who to call." Steven said goodbye to Kevin.

"Likewise." Kevin grinned as he walked away. "Catch you later!"

After the two boys waved each other goodbye, Steven got off the hood of his car and began driving it back to the beach house while monologuing to himself. "If I can change Kevin, maybe I could change Black Rutile too." He muttered, but the mere thought of Black Rutile turned Steven's optimistic grin into a tense frown. "Maybe."

--

Well, this has been a more low-key chapter compared to the two chapters before it. But next time, we kick things up again as we move onto Gems' Night Out, which I am so excited to write! We got Amethyst & Lapis as Bond girls, Garnet & Bismuth solving mysteries together, Steven being gaslit by Black Rutile into believing no one ever cared for him & that he must fight back against his loved ones, and Pearl & Peridot mingling with some of the most unique kinds of human known to man: nerds. Like I said, I'm real excited for this.

#steven universe #steven universe future #fanfiction #steven universe alternate future #steven quartz universe #kevin steven universe #emerald #demantoid #pyrope #mean lapis #pink pearl #orange spodumene #little larimar #crazy lace agate

[starstruckmyths]

Steve and Bucky being stress bakers. Some bad shit happens in the world and they punch at too much dough ending up with a bakery worth bread.

Stressssssss bakkerrssssssssss

I’ve probably said it already, but I’ll say it again: Steve admitted to being a shitty cook in Endgame, but every part in me knows that he’d make a brilliant baker. Steve is a super-soldier, so he would be really precise. 

My mom once told me, "Cooking is about feeling. Baking is about getting everything exactly right". 

Cooking is about trying out, it’s about what you like, adding more or less spices, sweet or sour or salty. Steve probably doesn't really have the cooking-gut-feeling, so he wouldn't be good at it. On the other hand, Steve is amazing at being precise. He would follow the recipes to the letter. Bucky would as well. They’re both soldiers, both have wielded weapons, and both have been in situations where they cannot lose any focus or everyone dies. So they’re really good at estimating how much sugar a “spoonful” is ;)

And then now, I will write you a little piece. 

|X|

The Avengers weren’t home, and Steve was sitting around in the comfy armchair, staring at his drawing pad but nothing came out of his pencil. It just... refused to let him draw anything. 

Bucky was still asleep, bundled up in the bedroom after one of the worst missions Steve had ever been on. It had not been particularly gruesome or nasty, but the bad guy had gotten away, he had fallen into a muddy ditch, Tony had crashed into a tree, Sam nearly got caught in some power lines, Clint had gotten his foot stuck in a hole in the ground, and Bucky had been hit by a car. 

All in all, a pretty laugh-worthy mission. 

And now here he was, his head still not entirely right and Bucky sleeping off the pain of his cracked ribs. He was frustrated. And hungry. He did not really feel up to anything, or rather he did, but he was not sure what that was. He wanted to eat something, a snack of some sort. Perhaps a cookie. Something sweet. Were their any cookies left or had the rest of the team gotten them all?

Steve pushed himself up out of the armchair and left his drawing pad on the coffee table, strolling over towards the kitchen where he pulled open some cabinets and looked for the cookie tin. Ah, there it was. As soon as he opened it, he scrunched his nose. Three tiny biscuits and a bunch of crumbs. Sighing loudly, he ate the last three cookies and thumbed the crumbs from the tin. Now it was really empty, and boy did that suck. 

“That’s not nearly enough,” he mumbled to himself, and he turned around to the counter. 

He looked in a few more cabinets, trying to lower his standards to what he was willing to eat, until he found a book. A cookbook. Steve made a curious noise, and pulled the thing out. Cooking was not really his thing, but he had often helped his mom bake, so perhaps he could make something out of that. It really was two birds with one stone: with the book, he could distract himself and get himself some more snacks. Win-win. 

It couldn’t go wrong, he just had to do what the book said and he would be fine. The book seemed to be more focused on baking than cooking anyway, so he was golden. There was a whole list of things to make, a bunch of cakes and other sweet snacks, but mostly cookies. Cookies with apple, chocolate, jam, nuts, honey, cinnamon, and more. 

This wasn’t a cookbook, this was a cookie-book.  

He had most of the ingredients, so that was a plus. Now, he only had to pick one kind of cookie from the list, and he was good! Only, they all looked so good. The one with apples, and with honey, and nuts... he picked the one with chocolate. He was feeling something for chocolate at the moment. 

And so he grabbed himself the flour, eggs, milk, oil, chocolate, and baking powder. He put the book against the backsplash of the kitchen, so he could read along as he went. He put the ingredients together and mixed it all with a spoon to get rid of at least some of his pent-up energy. 

“Let the dough rest for half an hour,” Steve read from the book. He scrunched up his nose again, deeper this time, and read the sentence another time. Half an hour. Half an hour? What was he supposed to do in the meantime?! Wait around? 

Stuffing the dough into the oven, he huffed in annoyance, lying his head in his neck as he tried to think of something he could do while waiting a whole half hour. 

But wait!

Instead of waiting around, he could bake the other cookies! Cookies with apple, with cinnamon, with peanut butter, jam, and all the others! That way, he could keep baking even when he had to wait for the dough! They had ovens and space to spare, so no one would mind, really. Steve pulled his stuff together and went to work straight away. 

Half an hour passed. 

Dough went in and out of the oven. 

The pile of flour and eggs became smaller and smaller, but Steve barely noticed as his stack of cookies only grew. 

He baked, and he baked, and he baked, without even looking at the clock. 

The whole kitchen smelled of fresh cookies, molten chocolate, and more. It had drawn Bucky to the kitchen, bandages wrapped around his chest, and he joined in. With the combined power of two super soldiers kneading and stirring the dough, cutting apples and chocolate, piling cookie after cookie after cookie onto the oven racks, they worked down the list cookie by cookie.

The entire counter was filled with all kinds of delicious things, crumbs and nuts and chocolate and honey and peanut butter and more. Another half an hour went passed, and then an hour, and then double that! There was flour on their faces, stains on their aprons, the cookbook was sticky, peanut butter in their hair, but neither Steve or Bucky paid it any mind as they baked as if their life depended on it. 

It turned dark outside, the sun dipping behind the horizon, but neither of them noticed, too caught up in their baking spell to stop. 

Then, late in the evening, the Avengers returned home, tired and worn out from their duty, some of them (Clint and Tony) were a little grumpy. There was light still coming from the kitchen, and as soon as the doors of the elevator opened the team was hit in the face by the taunting smell of cookies, cinnamon and honey. 

“Great,” Clint grumbled, “Now I’m hungry.”

“You think they left some for us?” Sam asked, standing on his near tiptoes as he took another deep breath, closing his eyes as he did so. 

Natasha was the first to step forward and out of the elevator. “Let’s hope they did.”

The very moment they stepped foot into the kitchen they were met with a sight that was both many’s personal wonderland, but also an almost terrifying one. 

Somehow, the entire kitchen was filled with stacks, heaps and piles of cookies. The entire counter save for a few tiny gaps was filled with cookies. Big cookies, small cookies, cookies with apple and honey and peanut butter, pale cookies, dark cookies. There were cookies on the cupboards, on top of the fridge, there were even cookies laid out on newspapers on the floor. And in the middle, Bucky and Steve were moving around, seemingly still baking. 

They thought they had to be dreaming. 

“Wha- wha-” Tony stumbled, “What have you done?”

Steve lifted his head from the book, his eyes slightly wider than could be normal, and he stared with the gaze of a man who had seen terrible things. In his arm, he clutched a bowl, holding it tightly as his other hand moved around a large spoon. “We baked some cookies.”

Bucky turned around, a fresh batch in his hands, holding it out towards the others. “Want one?”

|X|

Please forgive me, Nonnie. 

#stucky au #my writing #steve rogers #bucky barnes #ficlet #stucky #captain america #stevebucky #buckysteve #steve/bucky #bucky/steve

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Yandere! Hawks/Keigo Takami X Reader: Caged Songbird~

(Description: Ooo, y’all are in for a treat today~! Hey, my first Gender Neutral AND Yandere fic on this account! And no less, it’s our favorite manwhore, Hawks! I sincerely hope you enjoy reading my story and if you like this fic, don’t worry, I have more yandere fic on the way~! Thank you for your time, consideration, and all the love you royals have shown a simple jester like me!)

~

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(N/N) - Nickname

~

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

~

Requester: No One!

Reader Gender: Gender Neutral (They/Them)

Style of Story: Oneshot (Possible Part 2?) // Manipulative, obsessive, and controlling behavior; hints of stalking; kidnapping

Word Count: 1.7K Words

WARNING(s): Yandere themes, so if you aren’t okay with obsessive/possessive/psychotic natures then please don’t read!

~

[P.S: I DO NOT SUPPORT YANDERE TENDENCIES IN REAL LIFE!!! Do not confuse me writing this subject as encouraging it, there is a difference from reading/writing yandere stories V.S real life situations. Please, if someone in your life is behaving like the character in this story (i.e. obsessive, possessive, controlling, abusive, psychotic, sociopathic, LIKE A WACKADOO, etc.) get immediate help! That behavior in the real world is not romantic, sweet, or NORMAL! Stay aware and stay safe.]

~

~

“Baby bird, wait up!” the last person you wanted to talk to right now, Hawks, giggled as he drifted down to glide next to your frantic self. Even though you were already speed walking down the sidewalk away from his apartment where the two of you had previously been 20 minutes ago, you tugged your jacket closer to your frame and scurried faster through the drafty night in a desperate attempt to make him leave.

“Go away, Hawks. I’m done talking with you tonight.” you mumbled as he continued to spin around you in an almost teasing way that further pissed you off.

“Ouch, (N/N)~,” Keigo grabbed his chest where his heart is while floating directly in front of you to block your path with his massive scarlet wings, “Not even calling me by my first name anymore? C’mon, what happened to ‘my hero~’ or ‘Mr. Stud~’? Not even ‘bird brain’?” he mocked in fake shock.

You scoffed and stepped past his fiery feathers, marching down your path while shouting back, “You don’t get that lovey-dovey crap from me tonight!”

Though the rest of the world was dark in the wee hours of the night, the flickering street lamps guided you to the train station that would take you back home to your apartment that you thankfully hadn’t moved out of yet, even though Hawks constantly  whined about you ditching the “dingy” place in favor of the two of you living together in his over-the-top penthouse. You had no roommates to notify that you were heading back after a few days with Keigo and you had long ago left your parents’ house to live on your own so you pressed on, blocking out his pouty, annoyed huffs of air in favor of dreaming about your cozy bed waiting to coddle you in its embrace with no fear of sharing the space with anyone.

“(Y/N), slow down for a second! Why are you acting so weird?” you heard Keigo’s voice and jogging footsteps sound from behind you. You recognized the feeling of his hand trying to circle around your wrist but before he got too comfortable, you snatched it away from him and swiveled your body back to meet his teasing hooded eyes.

“I’M acting weird? What about you! You brought this onto yourself, stupid!” you hissed while stepping a foot back.

Though that action didn’t make him falter, instead he stepped with you and stared you dead in the eye, “What did I do, hummingbird?” he asked with another sly cock of his head.

“Really? Me yelling at you in the penthouse wasn’t enough,” you growled, “You were checking through my phone while I was in the shower like a total CREEP, Keigo! What were you thinking, that I was just gonna come out of the shower, see you looking through my private messages with friends and family without you previously asking for permission to do, and I would say “Oh, no worries, love!” Are you nuts or something?!” you hollered at the hero whose smirk made you want to gift him a punch straight in the face for his cocky attitude.

“It’s fine, baby bird, I’m just checking to make sure everything was okay! You’ve been distant with me lately~,” his eyebrows twitched up and he gave a small pout as his wings slightly drooped to the pavement.

“Wait, hold on, we’ve been on a few dates for the past two months, no where near officially dating yet, and you think stuff like that is okay? You trust me so little that you have to go behind my back and search through my private things, to what? Prove a point to yourself or something? How did you even get my password?!” you barked in his stupidly attractive face.

“Love, you’re overreaching,” Hawks strode over to you and quickly locked you in his strong arms, though you tried to squirm away in disgust, “There are things in this world that a civilian like you wouldn’t understand. Heroes have to make so many hard decisions and as your hero, I have to make sure to be just that, save you from everything and everyone, even yourself sometimes.”

He leaned his head on yours and you heard him take a deep breath in only to let it out with an almost loving sigh while he continued, “There are bad people in this world that I encounter every day and I don’t want you accidentally stumbling on them through the internet. You know, it’s really rude of you to have kept Tinder on your phone even though we’re already in a committed relationship. Good thing you have me here to help!” he chuckled, his hold on your body tightening with each passing second.

Thoroughly creeped the hell out and not one to look past such obvious red flags though his looks tried to deceive you, you finally broke free of his tight grasp and shoved him back a few feet with shaky hands. You kept your hands outstretched in front of you, though you trembled in fear, and spoke in a fake strong voice, “That’s it, Hawks, we’re done, even though there’s nothing really to be done with in the first place. No more dates, no more hanging out, just flat out don’t talk to me ever again, okay? You see me on the street, walk the other way. I sincerely wish you the best with your dating life, but here’s a tip for the next person you seek out, don’t go poking your head into their personal life until you two are more than close. Goodbye, Keigo.” you finished, breaking out into a sprint towards the train station, leaving a flabbergasted Hawks in the dust.

Keigo stood where you had just been and simply stared at your retreating form as you sped off into the night. His eyes glazed over in pure jealousy and rage as his wings poofed up behind him to physically show his anguish. He stood under the buzzing streetlamp for a couple minutes more, processing the information, until he let out a small snicker. His snickering turned into giggling, escalating to laughter, and finally into an uncontrollable hollering. He bent over himself in the fit of insanity and after gulping down the lost air in his lungs as he looked back up to the place where you had previously stood with a menacing glint sparking in his honey-colored eyes.

“(Y/N)’s just...confused...yeah. Yeah! My god, how didn’t I see it before?! I’m such a bad boyfriend! But I can fix this,” Hawks shakily straightened back up and pulled his jacket tighter to himself, smoothing down his ruffled hair and wings, “Yeah, I can fix this.” He concluded to the empty air with a satisfied hum.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N), Keigo’s here to save you yet again~,” Hawks’ crazed smile flashed in the night as he flipped down his wind-resistant glasses.

~

~ Timeskip to 10 minutes later and we’re with you! ~

~

You panted for air as your run slowed into a brisk walk yet again. Now about a half a mile away from the complete psycho you had been with, you felt much safer now than any time you’d ever been around him, pro hero or not. You swiveled around on your feet and looked behind you as you walked down the street backwards, taking careful steps and surveying the area to make sure that weirdo hadn’t followed you. No one behind you on the lonely road, no one hiding in the allies or on the rooftops you could see, and no bird brain flying behind you in the air. It was almost eerie how alone you were but you still smiled, finally free.

“Thank goodness, that was getting awkward. I’ve really gotta stop letting guys with pretty faces fool me into a date.” you huffed to yourself as you remained walking backwards. Pulling out your smartphone from your jacket pocket, you swiped through your device and pushed on the phone app to call your mom to let her know that instead of heading back to your apartment you’d like to spend the night with them, no doubt in your mind that if Hawks was determined enough he probably would have scoped out your place already since ‘heroes have connections’ and all.

As you tried to press the ‘call’ button, you heard the sound of something swiftly cutting through the air behind you but before you had time to react your phone was launched out of your loose grip. You watched as the fast moving object shot and stuck into the ground, having entirely pierced through your phone and the solid cement, rendering the device useless. Nothing but fear raced through your veins as you recognized the weapon as one of Hawks’ scarlet feathers you had happily stroked not so long ago.

Before you could book it once more down the empty street, you felt two strong arms wrap around your arms and torso. You yelped as they constricted around you like a snake wrapping around its prey and began wildly thrashing your legs, trying to wiggle your way out of your captor’s hold. You heard the “hero” sweetly coo in your ear, almost like he was trying to calm a restless baby, and you suddenly felt big gusts of wind push around your body and through your desperate squirming you realized that you were no longer on the ground.

“Relax, baby bird,” Keigo sighed in content as he swung your body up and into his arms, pinning your arms to your side and carrying you like a royal being saved by their knight, “We’re just going back home so you can...calm down a little! You’ve been under such stress lately, haven’t you? That’s probably why you lashed out! I’m so sorry for not noticing sooner, love.” Tears of frustration blurred your vision as your legs thrashed as hard as they could, but nothing could loosen the man’s tense grip.

“Let me go, you...you psychopath!” you screamed out, fast wind whipping past your face as Keigo sped back to your prison.

“Awe~, (Y/N), don’t cry,” Hawks nuzzled your head, a purr rumbling in the back of his throat as one of his feathers brushed away the tears dripping past your cheeks, “Your hero will take care of everything now~!”

~

~ The End ~

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