#GO OUTSIDE AND LOOK AT BIRDS DRAW A PICTURE TELL A FRIEND YOU LOVE THEM GO BUY A SNACK I DONT KNOW

[frostbite-the-bat]

this appeared on the side while watching a video and holy SHIT yall need to leave ppl alone and get a fucking LIFE holy shit what

[c-e-d-dreamer]

I Was Enchanted To Meet You: Part One

A/N: Happy @elucienweekofficial lovelies! I'm super excited to share this fic with you all! I'll be posting a new part every day for the remainder of Elucien Week! Now, when I last watched Disney's Enchanted, it was so clear that Elain IS Giselle and Lucien IS Robert (and Cassian is absolutely the himbo prince and Nesta is Idina Menzel), and nothing says Magic, today's prompt, like that movie, right? So, hopefully, everyone agrees and everyone enjoys :)

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Next Part

Elain

The music is light and melodic as it floats around her. It twists around her limbs like a warm, summer’s breeze, like sunlight, filling her chest with a blooming warmth that digs its roots deep between her ribs. Elain follows the steps with ease, gliding across the floor and twirling around with each swell of the song.

But it’s the hand at the small of her back, the other one that’s equally warm and steady clasped with her own, that truly draws Elain’s attention. There’s something so familiar yet unfamiliar in the feel of them against her body, in the way they curl around her fingers. Something that settles deep in her veins, that leaves her feeling safe, that has her feeling like home.

She twirls around again, and a face comes swimming into view, and those eyes…

Elain wakes with a quiet gasp, her eyes snapping open. She blinks a few times, her heart still fluttering away in her chest, before her surroundings come back into focus. Sunlight spills in through the open windows and into her cottage, long golden streaks bouncing off the wood, leaving shimmering spotlights across the blankets on her bed. Just outside she can hear the sweet songs of the birds of the forest, ready to start their morning.

“Elain?”

Elain glances to her right and smiles when she finds that Pip has climbed up onto her bed. The chipmunk tilts his head in concern, wide eyes blinking up at her.

“Oh, Pip,” Elain sighs longingly, holding her hands to her chest like she can still feel those hands curled around her fingers. “I had the most wondrous dream. There was a prince and we were dancing to a beautiful melody.”

“A prince?” Pip asks, hopping across the mattress to follow Elain when she gets up from the bed.

“Yes, and he had these eyes…” Elain’s steps pause in the middle of the room, that final image of her dream flashing across her mind like a swirling mist she can’t quite grasp onto. “He was my true love. I’m sure of it.”

“Well, we’ll just have to find him then. What did he look like?”

Elain hums consideringly, settling her hands on her hips. She tries to think how best to describe her prince, how to paint a perfect picture of everything that he was, but her mind keeps coming up blank. There simply aren’t the right words when it comes to that face, to that feeling that had washed over her so surely and taken up roots between her ribs even still now that she’s awake. He was everything, but that doesn’t really help or answer Pip’s question. But then an idea strikes her.

“We’re going to need some help,” Elain declares, striding over to the window of her cottage.

Cupping her hand to her mouth, Elain leans out the window and sings a tune, the forest around her quick to answer the melody back to her. She steps back just as her forest friends begin to crowd around the cottage and to clamber in through the window. Rabbits and squirrels and deer and bluebirds and foxes all flood into the space, peering up at her with wide eyes and wide smiles, clearly all happy to see her and excited to help. It has light warmth swelling and pitter pattering away between her ribs, so lucky to have so many forest friends.

“Oh, I’m so glad that you all can help,” Elain tells the animals gathered, making sure to smile at each and every one. “We’ll need to gather all the supplies we can to help recreate my true love.”

“Alright alright,” Pip claps his paws together, having climbed up onto Elain’s table. “Let’s get to work, people! We need to build this true love while it’s still ingrained in her subcranium.”

Pip continues to clap his paws together to get everyone moving, but it works, all of Elain’s forest friends jumping into action. The bluebirds fly to grab the fabric near Elain’s spinning wheel while the rabbits push over her dress form. Elain takes the fabric with a quiet thanks, draping it across the shoulders of the dress form like a jacket. She stands back to admire her work and adjusts the fabric until it’s to her liking, but then a nudge against her hand draws her attention. She glances down to find her deer friends, each with a bundle of white wildflowers in their mouth.

“Thank you so much,” Elain tells them, taking the wildflowers and arranging them so they act as trimming along the makeshift jacket she’s created for her prince.

“How’s this, Elain?” the owl asks, place long, autumn leaves on the head of the dress form so they drape like hair along the shoulders.

Elain smiles widely as she admires the color, almost a perfect match for the shade she remembers from her dream. “Just perfect.”

“And these for the eyes?” one of the rabbits questions, holding up two acorns.

Elain gasps quietly, plucking both the acorns from the rabbit’s paws and holding them up. “How did you know? The color practically burns just like his.” She settles the acorns securely in the makeshift face she’s created atop the dress form, stepping back once more and letting out a happy sigh. “There. He’s perfect.”

“Is he finished?” Pip asks. “Let's see this prince then.”

“Now presenting… my one true love,” Elain announces, turning the dress form around so all her forest friends can see. All the animals gathered ooo and ah, and Elain’s smile grows at their reaction. She turns her own attention back to the recreation of her prince, but then her eyes widen and she frowns. “Oh, no. I forgot to give him lips.”

One of the deer tilts its head confusedly. “Does he have to have lips?”

“Of course he does. How else are we meant to share true love’s kiss?” Elain explains gently before spinning back toward her recreated prince and curling her arms around the dress form. “I’ve been dreaming of a true love’s kiss and a prince I’m hoping comes with this. That's what brings ever-aftering so happy.” She twirls around with her prince, a mirror to the way they had danced in her dream, as she continues to sing, “and that's the reason we need lips so much, for lips are the only things that touch. So, to spend a life of endless—”

Elain’s singing stutters to an abruptive stop when she realizes that none of her forest friends are even looking at her anymore. Instead, each of her friends’ gaze is all but glued toward the window of her cottage, each pair of eyes wide and fearful. Some of the rabbits are even pointing frantically behind Elain, toward that very same window.

It has all of the hairs on the back of Elain’s neck standing up, trepidation flooding through her veins like ice water. Swallowing hard, Elain turns around slowly, coming face to face with what appears to be a giant eyeball.

“I’ve been dreaming of a true love’s kiss,” a deep voice rumbles, Elain’s entire cottage seeming to shake with the reverberations.

A troll.

There’s a troll outside of Elain’s cottage and peering in at her. Her heart pounds away even as it lodges itself firmly in her throat. All of her forest friends quickly flee, and Elain frantically turns in place, trying desperately to decide the best way for her to escape. The loud, crashing sound of splintering wood echoes around her and is her only warning before the large, green hand of the troll breaks through the window and wall of her cottage and reaches inside. Elain just barely dances out of the reach of those grasping fingers and runs for the door, clambering out of her cottage and up the tree it’s built into.

She climbs higher and higher amongst the branches, but one glance over her shoulder and she finds the troll following just behind her. She quickens her pace, racing onto another branch, but as she gets closer to the end, she realizes she has nowhere left to go, even worse when the troll climbs onto the very same branch and the combined weight sends the branch dipping dangerously.

That green hand reaches for her again, and Elain lets out an alarmed cry and squeezes her eyes shut, accepting her fate and waiting for those fingers to curl around her, but it never comes. Confused, Elain slowly opens her eyes again and peers over her shoulder. The troll is still there, his hand still half outstretched toward her, but there’s a sword now lodged into the wood of the branch, pinning the troll’s hand in place.

“Fear not, fair maiden,” a voice comes from below. “I have come to rescue you.”

Elain looks toward the ground and finds a prince astride a horse. Her prince. He’s come to rescue her. Elain’s heart flutters, and she tries to offer her prince a smile in thanks, but the branch beneath her gives a terrifying groan, still unsteady beneath the weight of her and the troll. She’s not sure how much longer it will hold them, so with a yelp, Elain jumps for the closest branch of the next tree. Her fingers just barely close around the bark, and relief washes over Elain as the loss of her weight sends the troll flying through the sky in the opposite direction.

The relief is short-lived, though, as Elain’s grip on the tree branch starts to slip. She tries to curl her fingers tighter, tries to pull herself up and more firmly onto the branch, but it seems to be futile.

“Pip,” Elain calls out desperately.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ve got you,” Pip tells her, hopping over to the branch and grabbing at Elain’s fingers with his hands.

But it’s not enough. Despite Pip’s and her own best effort, Elain’s fingers finally slip. She lets out a scream as she goes hurtling toward the ground, her whole body tensing up in anticipation, in fear. And yet, the ground never comes up to meet her. Instead, it’s strong arms that wrap around Elain’s body, holding her secure, holding her safe.

Elain blinks her eyes open in surprise and is greeted by bright, hazel eyes peering down at her. Soft, dark curls fall along the prince’s temples and cheeks to his shoulders, and when their gazes meet, a wide smile pulls its way across the prince’s face until a dimple pops in his left cheek, almost a mirror to the scar running through his right eyebrow.

“Are you alright, fair maiden?” the prince asks.

“I am now,” Elain assures him, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. “And please. Call me Elain.”

“Oh, Elain. We shall be married in the morning,” the prince declares, taking both her hands in his. “You’re the fairest maid I’ve ever met. You were made…”

“To finish your duet.”

~ * * * ~

Prince Cassian was right. They were to be married in the morning, which is how Elain finds herself clambering out of a carriage in front of the Andalasia castle. She barely has time to admire the gorgeous white stone, the vines and flowers curling up and around the turrets, the bright blue waterfall that sends water cascading down the side of one of the walls. Instead, Elain hurriedly smoothes out the white fabric of her dress, rushing up the front steps of the castle.

“Wait up, Elain,” Pip cries out behind her. “We’re not finished with you yet.”

But Elain doesn’t have time. She’s already running terribly late, and she can’t leave Prince Cassian waiting a moment longer. She doesn’t want to wait another moment either. She’s to marry her true love today. A moment she’s been dreaming about for forever. Two of her bluebird friends fly over her, gently placing a tiara into her hair as she continues to hurry forward.

“Oh, thank you so much,” Elain tells them, pushing open the large double doors that lead into the castle.

Elain is just crossing over the bridge, the church in sight just ahead, when an old woman pops up in front of her. Elain lets out a soft cry of surprise, nearing tumbling backwards as her steps stutter to such an abrupt stop. The woman smiles up at Elain, the gesture showing off her crooked teeth, and Elain can see strands of gray hair tucked beneath the hood of the cloak the woman is wearing.

“What a pretty bride,” the woman says, her dark eyes dancing over Elain’s dress.

“That’s very kind of you,” Elain tells her, trying to side step around the woman. “But I really must—”

“No, wait!” the woman exclaims, grabbing onto Elain’s wrist. “I have a wedding gift for you, my dear.”

Elain tries to pull her arm free, tries to find the right words to say to politely explain that she simply does not have time, but it doesn’t seem to deter the old woman. She continues to lead Elain further away, and Elain can do nothing but stare forlornly at the church, at her prince waiting for her there.

“It’s a wishing well,” the old woman explains, leading Elain to a waterfall of glittering water.

“But I’m going to be late,” Elain tries to offer again. “And all my wishes are already coming true.”

“But a wish on your wedding day is the most magical of all,” the old woman argues, continuing to tug at Elain until they’re standing right in front of that sparkling water. “Just close your eyes and make a wish.”

Elain hesitates for a moment, once again glancing over her shoulder and toward the church, but the old woman’s hand curls around her shoulder, nudging her attention back to the wishing well. She supposes there really is no harm in making a wish, and as the woman said, it would be especially magical to make one on her wedding day. This way she could ensure she and Prince Cassian really do have everything they both want. That they really do live happily ever after. So, with a soft sigh, Elain closes her eyes and clasps her hands together. She allows all her warmth, all her happiness and love and positive thoughts to bloom deep in her chest. Allows that feeling to bleed into her veins and flood all the way down to her toes. Allows that feeling to fill her mind with every dream she’s ever had of true love and happily ever after.

“I wish…”

But before Elain can finish speaking, she falls forward, tumbling down and down into the darkness below.

~ * * * ~

Lucien

“You never cared about Gordie the way I do!”

Lucien sighs softly, rubbing his fingers against his temples and the throbbing that’s begun to take up home there. It has him starting to wonder if he should have ever taken this case in the first place. He had sworn to Eris that he could handle it, that it would be a walk in the park. And now they're arguing over hockey trading cards. Already, he can imagine how his brother must be laughing at him.

“Mr. Vanserra?” Lucien looks up at the sound of his name, finding Vassa sticking her head through the door, the redhead offering him a sympathetic smile when their gazes meet. “It’s time.”

With a nod, Lucien turns back to the other lawyer sitting across from him, raising his voice so he can be heard over the still arguing couple. “I have to go pick up my daughter. Continue at nine tomorrow morning?”

Once the other lawyer agrees, Lucien gathers up his papers and files, shoving them all into his portfolio and standing up from the table. He meets Vassa at the door, and she hands over his work briefcase, both of them rushing toward the front doors of the office.

“I can’t believe after all that you still want to get married,” Vassa comments, her eyes flickering back toward the door and the voices still carrying from within the room.

“It’s different with me and Nesta,” Lucien tells her, taking his jacket next and tugging it on. “We understand each other’s strengths and weaknesses. We know we’re building something strong.”

Vassa snorts amusedly. “Are you proposing marriage or a business deal?”

“Yeah, sure. Laugh it up,” Lucien remarks dryly with a roll of his eyes. “But when our marriage is a success because there's no unrealistic expectations, you'll be jealous.”

“You’re just such a romantic,” Vassa quips back sarcastically as Lucien pushes through the glass doors that lead to and from the firm.

“Of course I am.”

~ * * * ~

Thankfully, Willow isn’t the last child still in the aftercare program when Lucien arrives at the school. She smiles widely when she spots him walking through the doors, quickly grabbing her backpack while he signs her out. He hears the jingle of the keychains she keeps on her backpack before a weight crashes into his legs, little hands curling around his knees, and Lucien has to bite back his own smile.

“Daddy. Daddy. Look what I drew today,” Willow tells him excitedly, and Lucien looks down to see her holding up a picture of her in a bright pink princess dress.

“That’s beautiful, but it’s been raining outside, so let’s put this away for now until we get home, okay?”

Willow nods her head and spins around, so Lucien plucks the paper from between her fingers, kneeling down so he can unzip her backpack and tuck the drawing inside. She grabs his hand in hers when he’s finished, and then they’re heading out of the school and toward his car. He helps buckle Willow into her seat before sliding into the driver’s seat, following the familiar roads that will lead them back home.

“So, other than your princess drawing, how was school today?” Lucien asks, glancing back toward Willow in the rearview mirror.

“It was good,” Willow tells him, her eyes glued out the window and the buildings passing them by.

“Tomorrow, Nesta is going to pick you up and take you to school, okay? The two of you can have some grown up girl bonding time.”

Willow frowns at that, tilting her head in an adorable show of confusion. “But I’m only six.”

“I know, but…” Lucien pauses, taking a moment to swallow hard and tighten his grip on the steering wheel. He still hasn't quite figured out the perfect way to tell her yet, the timing never quite right, but now he's running out of time. Perhaps a band-aid approach is the way to go. “But I’m going to ask Nesta to marry me.”

“What?” Willow asks, her voice filled with shock.

“You like her, don’t you?” Lucien continues, pulling the car to a stop at a redlight and keeping his attention on Willow’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “We all get along, and I—”

“Daddy, look! There’s a princess!”

Lucien frowns at being cut off so abruptly, but he turns his head out the window to see what snagged Willow’s attention. He spots a billboard all lit up with a castle on it, big block letters promoting the local casino. And standing in front of the castle is some sort of animatronic princess in a large, puffy, white dress.

“It’s a real princess,” Willow continues excitedly, and before Lucien can correct her, she’s unbuckling herself and flinging the car door open to clamber right out into the street.

“Willow!” Lucien exclaims, throwing the car into park and wrenching his own door open to chase her down. He catches her around the shoulders, pulling her back against him and to a stop. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“But Daddy look,” Willow argues, pointing up toward the billboard.

With a barely contained sigh, Lucien looks back up toward the billboard, but he has to blink a few times to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. Because there’s simply no way. It’s no animatronic on that billboard, but an actual woman. Her honeyed curls are wet from the rain where they’re piled atop her head in some sort of elaborate updo, and the large hoop skirt of her dress seems to sway with her movements.

“Hello?” the woman’s voice floats down to him. “Won’t you please let me in. Do you know Cassian?”

“Hey, miss,” Lucien shouts up to her. “Are you alright?”

At the sound of his voice, the woman turns around. “Oh, hello, I was just wondering if—”

Before the woman can finish speaking, she loses her footing, wobbling dangerously on the small platform in front of the billboard. In an instant, Lucien rushes forward, holding his arms out like that’s somehow going to help. The woman continues to teeter, the weight of her hoop skirt clearly not helping, before she goes tumbling over the edge with a shout. Lucien’s heart lurches suddenly at the sight of her falling, but luckily, the woman’s hands grab onto the edge.

“Just hang on,” Lucien calls out, eyes darting around for anything that might help.

He spots the ladder that leads up to the billboard, and his attention dances back to the woman, trying to gauge how much time he has to climb up and get to her, but the answer is clearly no time at all. Already, he can see the woman’s grip beginning to slip, the metal platform of the billboard slick from the rain. She’s going to go plummeting to the ground, and Lucien has seconds to try and figure out what he’s going to do.

“Catch her, Daddy!” Willow cries out from behind him, just as the woman finally loses her hold.

Lucien keeps his eyes pinned on the falling woman, rushing to make sure he’s standing just beneath her, his arms outstretched and ready. He gets a mouthful of white, frilly fabric, and then they’re both crashing into the ground. Lucien winces at the pain that flares across his arms, in his knees from where they collided with the pavement, and he splutters around the dress as he shifts until he can finally take in the woman’s face.

He’s greeted by warm, wide brown eyes blinking up at him. Those honeyed curls are a bit of a mess around her face, but her expression is still all soft, pretty angles, a dusting of freckles littered across the apples of her cheeks.

“Thank you,” the woman tells him, offering a kind smile.

“Yeah, sure,” Lucien dismisses with a shrug, clambering back to his feet and helping the woman to hers. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Do you need me to call someone for you?”

The woman frowns in confusion at that, tilting her head and sending more hair cascading down her shoulder. “I don’t think they’d hear you from here.”

Lucien blinks a few times. “What?” Before he can finish with that line of questioning, a loud clap of thunder echoes overhead, promising another lashing of rain. “Listen… I’m sorry. What did you say your name was?”

“Elain.”

“Listen, Elain. We live just around the corner. You can come inside and dry off and then I can order you a car to take you wherever it is you’re trying to go, okay?”

“That’s so very kind of you. Thank you.”

With a nod, Lucien ushers both Elain and Willow back toward the car, making sure his daughter is buckled back in before returning to the driver’s seat. He takes a deep breath as he throws the car back into drive, daring to glance toward the backseat through the rearview mirror. He’s sure this is the craziest—definitely the stupidest—thing he’s ever done. It’s not like him to go around helping strangers, especially in the city, but there’s just something about this Elain. Something in those glittering brown eyes. He just hopes it's a decision he doesn't come to regret.

And besides, he’s only helping to call her a car anyways.

“And what is your name?” Elain asks, her attention entirely on Willow.

“Willow Vanserra. And Daddy’s name is Lucien. Are you a real princess?”

“Not yet, but I will be once I marry Prince Cassian. Today was actually meant to be our wedding day.”

Willow gasps at that, leaning in closer. “What happened?”

“Well, there was this old woman, and she brought me to a wishing well, and I must have looked too far because I fell and fell and then I ended up here.”

“Is that a habit of yours, then?” Lucien teases, pulling into their assigned spot in the parking garage of their building. “Falling off things?”

“Usually, someone catches me,” Elain informs her, her voice almost haughty, as she gets out of the car.

The change in tone takes Lucien by such surprise that he has to press his lips together firmly to bite back a smile. He goes around to the other side of the car, helping Willow out and taking her hand in his, leading all three of them inside and up to their floor.

“But it’s no matter,” Elain continues as they walk down the hallway of their floor. “Because I’m sure that Cassian is already looking for me to take me away from this awful land. And when he finds me, we will finally be wed and share in true love’s kiss.”

Lucien can’t stop the amused snort that tears free. “True love’s kiss?”

“It’s the most powerful thing in the world.”

“Sure it is,” Lucien mutters, unlocking their apartment door and ushering everyone inside. He walks over to their linen closet, grabbing a fresh towel and holding it out toward Elain. “You can dry off, and I’ll call you a car, okay?”

Elain takes the towel with a quiet thanks, using it to press the water from her hair, so Lucien heads for his office. He roots around the papers in his desk drawer until he finds the business card he’s looking for. Diggin his phone out of his pocket, he starts to type in the phone number.

“Daddy, she’s really sleepy,” Willow says, stepping into the doorway to his office.

“What…” Lucien starts before he glances over Willow’s shoulder, noticing Elain now asleep on their sofa. “Oh, no. Absolutely not.”

Lucien rushes past Willow and back into the living room of their apartment, his frustration beginning to flare at the sleeping woman in their home. This is clearly what he gets for trying to do the right thing, for trying to help.

“But Daddy, you can’t make her leave now. She’s a real princess,” Willow argues, hot on his heels.

“She’s not a real princess,” Lucien informs her, trying to keep his voice calm. “Now, will you please go get ready for bed while I handle this?”

Willow lets out a long, withering sigh, but she stomps off toward her bedroom. Lucien waits until the door clicks shut behind her before turning his attention back to Elain. He finishes dialing the car service and tucks the phone against his shoulder while it rings, reaching out with his hand to try and rouse Elain gently. But instead, Elain merely snuffles quietly and curls deeper into herself as she continues to sleep.

Lucien hates how much that small gesture tugs at his heart strings. He hates how much this woman he’s known less than an hour is already having such an effect on him. He hates how something about her seems to spark deep within his soul, urging him to protect, to help, like some long forgotten ancient beast finally waking from slumber.

With a quiet, resigned huff, Lucien ends the call on his phone and grabs a blanket instead, carefully draping it over Elain’s frame. One night can’t hurt, and in the morning, he’ll get her where she needs to go, and that will be that. That will be the end of whatever this is, and he'll send Elain on her way, never to be seen again. He’s sure of it.

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog​ @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl​ @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld​ @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias​ @kookskoocie​​ @unlikelypersonalknight1 @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk

[faust-the-enjoyer]

A Moment of Joy.

Warnings: gn!reader, reader and Keegan have a kid, kid's nickname is "Charlie", the kid is 7, sfw but minors dni, domestic bliss, fluff.

You're crouched next to your child, looking at her in awe as she looks at the birdfeeder you just filled, and at the same time, Keegan's got a camera recording the both of you, talking in the background. "Charlie, what do you see?", he asks his kid, "Birds!", Charlie points at the birdfeeder, a big smile on her face, the same reflected on you and Keegan's face. The birds gather around the posted birdfeeder, their chirps filling up the ears of all three of you as Keegan turns the camera towards them, sunlight beams coming through some clouds in the sky in the background, then after, turns towards you and Charlie. "Are they happy? They sound happy.", she asks you, hearing the birds singing, and seeing them eat away on the house-shaped birdfeeder, "Yes! They're getting food, so they're no longer hungry.", you reassure her, "Are they gonna travel with their friends?", she asks you innocently, "No actually, these types of birds don't usually travel far away with their friends!", you tell her, "Do you know what type of bird they are, pumpkin?", Keegan chimes in, curious, as you and Charlie spent so much time in the backyard, so maybe the kid knows some bird names now?

"Uhm, they're red? I don't know daddy.", she laughs, you read so many animal books to her, it would be surprising if she didn't know some bird species, "No baby,", he laughs, "bird colours are different than their types, see this one is red, it's called a Cardinal.", "Oh.", Charlie says, "Yeah, these little birdies usually come to people's backyards.", you tell her, you three watched the birds come and go in your backyard through your windows, but never up this close, that's why you and Keegan installed the birdfeeder, so you can all take a better look at the birds, you were sure Charlie would love it, as she loves animals.

"I wanna draw them!", she says excitedly, "Alright, want me to get you your painting stuff?", you ask her, you two have taught her to have good manners, so what she's supposed to say is- "Yes please!", you stand up, Keegan pointing the camera at you then back at his daughter once you disappear inside the house, "Will they be cold in the winter?", she asks, pouting, she's always had a big heart for animals, asking you to help her put water for some stray cats outside during the summer heat, or having Keegan help her clean up her windows so that the birds can lay their nest on it, "Well sweetheart, as long as we keep feeding them, they'll stay warm in the winter, that's how we can help 'em.", he tells her, and you emerge from the door again, walking towards the two, a pencil case and a small sketchbook in your hands. Keegan turns the camera off, having decided he recorded enough memories for the weekend.

You handed her the book and pencil case, pointing to a wooden table with four seats for her to sit on, it's close to the birdfeeder so she can see the birds quite well from there. You all sit down, seeing her open the pencil case fast, the zipper getting stuck for a minute, making both you and Keegan laugh sweetly. She takes her pencils out and opens the sketchbook, flipping through her older animal drawings, and one cute and simple sketch of you and Keegan as stick figures, until she finds a new, clean page on her sketchbook.

You look over at Keegan as she starts drawing, smiling with content at him as he looks back at you, his hand reaching yours on the table, holding it, gently squeezing it, "What should we make for dinner tonight, Sweetie?", you ask him, "How 'bout some beef stew? Does that sound good?", you nod yes, and after a few minutes of discussing dinner, your daughter calls out to the both of you, "Done!", she shows you the picture she painted; cute, fat, round little red birds with hints of black on them, "Good job Charlie! I like the details you put.", he points at the black parts of the bird, although the shapes are quite messy, it's expected from a child. "They're so cute, Sweetheart!", you chime in, and she smiles, smiles widely, and jumps up from her chair while giggling, coming to hug the both of you.

-(divider by vase-of-lilies)!

[homiro]

Today is being wildly eventful and I'm just high enough to spill on here

So

- Woke up at 4am after going to sleep at 2 and couldn't fall asleep again because stress and lack of meds and also sperm donor being an egotistical ungrateful piece of shit

- A friend paid for my meds so I went to the city to get them

- Got an email from shitty prof saying we have classes tomorrow but I can't fucking go especially since it's not even a real fucking class and I don't have money to come to the damn city again

- For some reason ADHD meds are hard to get without ordering them and it was sold out or something in 6 different pharmacies. Save for one who miraculously had one bottle

- I was crying by then and had to walk a lot

- Decided to go to a church to feel the energy maybe shake off the goddamn evil luck

- Unsure if that worked

- Walked to get the meds and had to keep focused all the way because everything was overwhelming

- Got meds, then went to sit and have some tea

- While having tea a guy and a girl sat down at the table in front of me and started talking about the wildest stuff while the meds hit for me. She looked and by the sound of it was some sort of mini IG model and he looked like he was part of a podcast. She was wearing foundation two shades lighter than her skin (she was white, mind) and it was absolutely caked and I don't mind saying that because she randomly started slut shaming other women while the guy just laughed awkwardly. Then they started talking about jail and torture. I think they both had ofs because they kept talking about taking pictures and "doing things for money" before the random jail talk

- I wasn't hungry at all so all I had was a cup of caramel coffee and a cookie from Subway

- Decided to take the bus because it was cheaper than the Uber and I was in no condition to walk more especially considering that I still have to walk home (on the train rn)

- At the bus stop I stood up to let this old lady sit and she was very grateful

- Lady didn't know my gender and said like 'oh thank you sweet girl or boy I can't tell but you look lovely'. Made this miserable week feel less shit. Yes it's only Tuesday. Pray for my ass I guess lol

- Went to get some drawing paper for my brother. Some old man at the shop was asking the clerk for glue and she pointed him towards the glue but apparently he wanted dentures glue lmao and was trying to get it from irl AliExpress

And that's all for now, let's hope the rest of the week is mostly uneventful because I'm losing my mind already

My phone also said: gender.

- Adding because it's still going. Someone on the train is becoming the joker over a cancelled appointment very eloquently calling out incompetence absolutely spitting bars still going slam poetry who barely even stuttering goddamn power to this person. And someone was singing the Homer Simpson Spider-Pig song and is rooting for this person.

-Update: Made it home. But not before more wacky stuff. Saw this old lady who had some cats and was doing crochet in her van and said my sperm donor should die while saying she hoped god blessed me my brother and my mother and also my uncle and showed me this religious pamphlet thing. Then right after I saw a man training some sort of bird to be outside. After that I saw a man with his goats and finally I got in the house intact somehow.

Nobody cares but look at the goats. Yes I'm very rural and my phone's quality is pretty bad. Adds to the charm. All the goats had bells.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)

Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin. A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨ Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male) Word Count: 5.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.

It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.

... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.

“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.

“He was just being nice.”

“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”

I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.  

“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.

Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”

“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.

“Stop! It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not.”

Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.

“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.

I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.

Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.

“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”

But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.

“Okay ­– good.”

My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.

“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”

The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.

“You said you didn’t mind!”

In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”

When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.

As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.

“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.  

“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.

The man beside him, however, was quick to question.

“Who’s this?”

As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.

“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.

“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.

I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.

“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”

“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.

There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.

“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.  

Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.

“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”

With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.

“Ooh, is there a party?”

Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.

“No, it’s nothing.”

It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.

“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”

And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”

My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.

“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”

His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.

“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.

But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.

“Uhh...”

“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”

Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).

“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.

The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.

Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.

“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I’m very motivated?”

Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”

I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.

“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.  

Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”

But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.

I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”  

Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.

Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.

Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.

Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.

“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.

I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”

I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.

“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”

Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.

Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”

“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”

The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.

“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.  

Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”

It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.

I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.

Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.

“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”

Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.

“Double promise. Promise squared.”

“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”

I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.

“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”

I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.

“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”

“For what?” he also said through laughter.

“I— don’t know.”

Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.

Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”

So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.

Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.

I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.

 ——————————————————

 There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.

That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.

No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.

“So... Bunny.”

“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.

“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.  

“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

But that time, it was me who issued the warning.

“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”

“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”

The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.

Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”

“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.

“She’s a virgin.”

Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.

“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.

But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”

It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.

“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”

“Cut it out.”

Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”  

“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”

The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.

“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”

“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”

“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”

I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.

But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.

A fucking tease.

“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.

“Are you done?”

As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.

“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”

I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.

“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.

“Goodnight!”

Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.

But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.

Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.

As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.

Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.

“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”

I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.

It was a set of pictures.

Pictures of her.

“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”

How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.

I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.

They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.

“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”

As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.

I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.

But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.

But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.

Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.

Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.

I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.

That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.

I wanted it. I wanted her.

My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.

If I stole it from her, would it be mine?

Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?

If I ruined her, would she be mine?

I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.

She would be mine.

That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.

She would be mine.

The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.

She was already mine.

 ——————————————————

| Part Four |

[shy-septic-dragon]

@karda your ask about the things you love made me want to share something I wrote for a friend bc it's literally just a long ramble about love. It is not suited to the word limited nature of tumblr asks though, so here have this instead :]

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Nature is maybe the best place to start with the ‘romanticizing little things’ category because there are just so many things that are not Big Things but they can still somehow be Profound. I love the warmth of the sun, and when the air is soft but cool so it feels like the breeze is like a gentle caress, and the smell of plant life and that smell of water where it flows rapidly that can’t be put into words. I love the lapwing I saw this morning, the way they fly so acrobatically but gently and they look so free. I love the little stream I found and sat just listening to the water flowing in the background for a while. I love the crow that landed in a tree nearby and it looked at me and I made a sound at it and it cawed back. It might have been pure coincidence but it was so nice. I love the sound of the wind rustling through those tall poplar trees and it’s such a Big sound. I love the fish I saw; the carp and the bream and the grass carp and even the pike that darted away before I could take a picture. The black-and-white cat that was sat in the exact same place as last week and came to greet me just as it did then. I love the birds that I knew I’d never seen before and the weird fungus that was growing in the reeds and I am so overwhelmingly in love with the fact that you can still see new things in nature every single time even if you go outside every day.

But these things are everywhere. I love art, and the way that people just Create things and share them and it makes you feel all these things just like it made them feel things when they made it. I love music, and poems, and drawings. I love games with their elaborate worlds and characters and the way they can feel like home. The way they can sometimes tell stories that we can’t ourselves but connect to nonetheless. I love the way people love and are passionate, and get attached to objects and memories and stories, and the way we Feel and communicate even without words. I love inspiration, the magic of a creation sparking more unique new art pieces which each tell their own story with respect to the original one. It's limitless.

There are a lot of words to spend on the complicated and important nature of human connection, but even outside of the big thoughts there are so many small things too. I love it how everyone is recognizable by their speech habits and writing patterns. I could recognize an unsigned message from a lot of different people simply from knowing how they express themselves and it makes my heart feel full. I love when people interact and they pick up each other’s little quirks without knowing, like using certain words or writing quirks or some vocalization.

[allthingsarmin]

Hello, can i please request an armin x reader but it’s a modern au where armin is a nerd and the reader is popular, feel free to ignore if you don’t like the idea :)

Thank you for your request, anon! I really hope you like it, and I can always rewrite it if it’s not the way you imagined. Also, sorry it is a little long - I think I got carried away with this prompt haha.

The beginning might be a little angsty, but the ending is cute ^_^

GN!Reader

Warnings: one cuss word, mentions of self-doubt, kissing

Word Count: 2,346

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Things change - sometimes for the better - like how Armin finally cut his bob-length hair and now has a handsome undercut that suits his jawline and like how you are finally growing taller since it seemed like forever that Armin was the taller one.

Things change - sometimes for the worse - like how you and Armin used to be so close in grade school, but now in college, your relationship is made up of awkward smiles in the hallways, small waves when passing each other in the library, and unfinished conversations on SnapChat.

Things fade - relationships come to an end, people move on, and that’s just life. Look at you now, from a quiet person to a popular student known for your humorous remarks, angelic facial features, a delightful sense of style, and your beautifully color-coded notes. You capture hearts with your smile, and you never fail to make anyone laugh with your stupidly funny puns and nonsense. To put it simply, Armin is a bit different - well, you could say nerdy. Quiet, polite, and has as much passion for the world as he does intelligence. Always heavily invested in school and studying as you could almost always find his nose in between the pages of a book or study guide. Poor Armin - not known for his sweet personality or his above average intelligence. Definitely not known for his sense of style but always comes to class dressed in a rather dashing blazer and keeps a couple Kleenex tissues in his left pocket. Armin barely has any friends, - if any - but he always makes sure to hold the door open for strangers, smile at teachers when entering the classroom, and send you a “Happy Birthday!” text every year.

Some things don’t fade - like Armin’s feelings for you even after you two grew apart and he was forced to watch you from the sidelines. How could he not be so deeply in love with you? When you two were close, you coddled up with each other and read books about the ocean, learning about sharks and so naively believing in the theory of Atlantis. You stayed over at each other’s houses and studied together as well as comforted each other if one of you didn’t do as well as you expected on a test. You used to braid his long blond locks as he told you stories about his grandfather. During the summers, you would use chalk to draw a picture of you two on the blistering sidewalks outside his house, and he would give you handmade bookmarks as a present. Even though you two have grown apart, he is still in love with you, watching you laugh from far away. The way your eyes squint out of happiness and the sound of your hearty laughter makes his body heat up and his cheeks rosy. The way you sometimes send him “Good luck!” texts for when there’s a big test in a class you both are taking makes him smile with teary eyes since it seems that you have in fact not forgotten about him and his intense anxiety when it comes to test-taking. The way you ran up to Armin and gripped his arm when you unexpectedly saw him in the campus coffee shop that one time sent a euphoric tingle throughout his body that made him forget how to breathe properly. How could he not love you when you were always there for him, when you remembered every personal detail he told you during late-night childhood sleepovers, when you tried your best to make him love himself? Armin wants so badly to tell you how important you are to him, how he wants to protect you from everything bad in the world, how he wants to wrap his arms around you and listen to your heartbeat… you are just so hard to reach. He is a nerd, a loser, and you are so popular, surrounded by endless amounts of friends… he’s sure your contacts are completely full and DMs flooding with people who are interested in you and are a lot better than him. What was the point in even trying?

Luckily for Armin, you feel the same way. To be honest with yourself, your stupid jokes, loud laughter, and wide smiles were really just a cover-up for how deeply sad you are. No matter how many friends you have or instant messages you receive from strangers online, you feel incredibly alone because none of them are him. Popularity doesn't matter to you anymore - you just miss your best friend so terribly. You missed walking on the beach together, splashing each other with the salty waves, making study-flashcards together, and being able to touch his beautiful blond hair whenever you wanted. Armin’s birthday is coming up, and you want to make your move and do something big for him that would let him know how special he is to you. This time, it wouldn’t involve loads of friends or a loud party with that overly social and fake personality of yours.

You text Armin: “Hey Armin! We haven’t talked in awhile, but your birthday is this Saturday, and I would like to meet up with you. Are you free to go to the beach on Saturday? I want to give you a present, and I just want to catch up with you. I miss my friend!”

Armin read the text with relief. Even if he couldn’t have you the way he wanted, he still wanted more than anything to reconnect with his old friend. “It’s good to hear from you, y/n! I have no plans for Saturday, so of course we can meet up… around 7pm if that’s okay. I want to watch the sunset! And I miss you too…”

Saturday:

It is November, which means it’s cold. At the beach in November? Even colder, so you make sure to dress warmly.

It is 6:59pm, and you trudge through the moist sand, the harsh wind bearing itself against your face making the tip of your nose turn a bright pink as you grip your hoodie close to your body. In the distance, you see Armin sitting on the sand, shoes off and wearing a dark green sweatshirt with a black beanie. Sitting next to him was his backpack - of course he was the type to bring his school work with him while you always brought your violently vibrating phone with you everywhere.

You release a tired breath as you sit next to him in the sand, setting the bag of presents down beside you and keeping your cold hands in your hoodie pocket. A big smile is on your face as you ask him: “Aren’t you cold, Armin? Why don’t you have your shoes on?!” Armin laughs as he turns his face toward you. At this point, you can see how red his cheeks really are, and this is really the first time you’ve noticed how handsome he actually is. The softness of his blond eyelashes beautifully contrast with the sharpness of his jawline. His smile is soft, and his deep blue eyes pierce into yours. “Hahaha, I don’t know. I just haven’t been to the beach in a long time…” he trails off. “It’s ‘cuz you’re so popular now that you don’t have time to hang out with me,” he states in a playfully butt-hurt tone though you can sense that he is indeed a little upset about it. The waves hitting the shore fill the awkward silence between you two. “I know,” you softly say, “but I think about you all the time. I miss you, and I hope we can be close friends again,” you confess. Armin feels his heart flutter when you say that you miss him. He wants to tell you he loves you and wants to reassure you that he’d always be there for you, but instead he pats you on the back. “It’s okay! I was just joking,” he awkwardly laughs. “Of course we are friends, and I hope we can be even closer too.”

He glances to your side. “What’s in the bag?” he inquires. “Oh!” you exclaim, seemingly as if you forgot about it. You rush to give him the bag and shove it into his arms. “It’s just some stuff I got you for your birthday.”

He rummages through it, going through the endless amount of tissue paper on the top. He pulls out a light blue sweater first.

“It’s almost winter, so I figured I’d give you something warm. I think this color…” you pause and hesitantly reach up to adjust his beautiful blond bangs, “... would look good on you.”

You both make eye contact for a second and quickly look away from each other. “Haha, it’s beautiful, y/n. Thank you!” You are just about to say ‘no problem’ before he is quickly taking off his green sweatshirt and replacing it with the light blue one, his very toned abs peeking through the plain white t-shirt he had on underneath the sweatshirt. You feel your cheeks grow warm and instantly look away. Armin notices and chuckles to himself. He would honestly never mind if you wanted to look at them or even touch them.

“Now, onto the second one,” you say, trying to change the subject. Armin pulls out two matching, homemade bracelets that feature a seashell on both of them. He looks at them silently and intently.

“I made matching bracelets!” you say proudly. “They’re like friendship bracelets, so we both have to wear them all the time! You aren’t allowed to take it off!” you joke.

“They’re so pretty, y/n,” he whispers as he stares at the shells, a sparkle in his eyes. He immediately puts it on and gently takes your wrist to put yours on.

“There,” he says contently, carefully placing your wrist in your lap.

You two sit silently next to each other, shoulders brushing against one another and watching the waves as the sun casts a dull orange and purple glow across the sky. The sounds of waves crashing against the shore and the squawking birds in the sky cancel out the noises of Armin softly crying.

Once you notice, you quickly snap your head around. “Armin, are you okay?” you ask, extremely worried.

“Thank you for the presents, y/n,” he sniffles. “You have always done stuff like this for me,” Armin continues as he gets flashbacks of you two running across the beach and gawking at beautiful seashells, telling jokes to each other in grade school when it was supposed to be reading time, and making funny drawings of each other. “I’ve never told you thank you - for being there for me and comforting me all those times, and just letting me be myself. It’s been such a long time since we’ve done anything together. I miss making you laugh, and I miss going to the library with you and asking you about your day.”

At this point, you feel like crying too because you feel the exact same. You spent so much of your life wanting to fit in, and you finally became popular but at what cost? You nearly forgot about the most important person to you, the one person that actually cares about you.

“I love you,” Armin suddenly blurts out, a tear running down his face. “I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine,” he says so quietly that it’s borderline pathetic. You swear your heart stopped when he said that. You feel a burning sensation all along your body as you forget about the cold air hitting your face, and you feel your breathing stop. The uncertainty you felt that kept you awake every night about whether Armin thought of you the same, all the self-doubt, all the guilt about leaving your friend behind, had been erased in an instant.

The silence between you two is unbearably awkward, and with confidence you seemingly pull out of nowhere, you throw yourself onto Armin’s lips, your arms enclosing his broad shoulders, and both of you falling sideways into the wet sand. Armin, at first shocked, passionately kisses back and links onto your soft lips. The tips of your noses are cold, but you both eventually succumb to each other's warmth. You both pull away to catch some breath. Armin gently wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him as you bury your head in the crook of his neck. Even after all this time, he still smells the same - vanilla and cedarwood. “I love you too,” you softly say. Noticing that you both are practically wallowing in the sand by now, you apologize. “Also, sorry I ruined your new sweatshirt. There’s sand all over it,” you laugh.

“Oh, it’s okay,” he reassures, shyly placing a kiss on your forehead. “Want to watch the sunset with me?” You nod your head enthusiastically, a smile you couldn’t help leave your lips.

“Oh, fuck,” you quitely exclaim.

“What’s wrong?” Armin asks in a concerned tone.

“I forgot I have an essay due at 11:59 tonight.”

Armin busts out laughing - a sound you wouldn’t mind hearing for the rest of your life even though he’s laughing at your poor planning.

“When the sun finally sets, we can go back to my dorm, and I can help you with it if that’s alright with you,” he politely offers.

“Sure!” you happily reply.

You both sit up and face the horizon. The sun was almost gone, and the sky was a heavenly pink color while the sea began to look indigo. Your hands were linked with Armin’s, and for the first time in a long time, you felt warm despite the air getting cooler.

Getting ready to go to Armin’s dorm, he grabs his backpack and his dark green sweatshirt. You get up and check your phone, not at all caring that you have nearly fifty missed text messages and missed calls asking why you didn’t come to the weekly campus party.

You finally have all that you need.

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I really hoped you liked it! Requests are open ~ I have another request that will be posted soon.

[lil-pine-mha-drabbles]

can i request tokoyami or tetsutetsu with a

s/o that has adhd? :)

Tokoyami x Reader with ADHD.

There are so many different types of adhd and I didn’t want to disrespect anyone with how I wrote it so I placed in my own adhd. This is ligit how I act every day and I apologize if it’s not what you were looking for.

Also I saw you said s/o instead of boyfriend or girlfriend so I tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible. I usually only write for female readers so I will try my best with this.

I really hope you like it! Here are some people that inspire me! @alpha-bnha-boys and @random-mha-thoughts

There are 1140 words to read below the line!!

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Weeks ago you were sitting on the couch in the common room with Tokoyami when you got this sudden urge, his feathers looked so soft. You slowly reached out and touched your boyfriend’s face as he flinched and froze up. You petted his black feathers as he coo’ed for the first time. He cuddled into you, his head in your lap as you pet around his cheeks and under his chin. You continued the head pats for a while, heard some chirps you’ve never heard from him, and you smiled brightly at his cute sounds. After that first day it became an unspoken rule that after a long day, Tokoyami would lay in your lap and you would both relieve stress through it.

When you were with your classmates you were loud and fast talking, speaking your mind quickly to get to the point before anyone shushes you. Although most times you were shushed by everyone, except for Tokoyami and Kaminari, that’s why they were your closest friends.

You stared out the window of Aizawa’s class and watched some birds fly outside, reminding you of your boyfriend. You looked around a bit at the room of bored teens and an equally bored teacher and decided that you should listen.

After three minutes of listening you started doodling little eyes and flowers into your notes, little faces came to life on the page as you sketched their tiny little noses, and you imagined the little car you drew to drive off the page and down the side of the desk and then wondered if it would crawl up the desk next to you or go under the seat.

Your eyes followed the path you thought best for the small car until it “rolled” up the ceiling and “fell” on your desk. You then decided you wanted to speed run the whole path again and your eyes darted around the room to match what path you made earlier, restarting whenever you got it too wrong.

You were pulled out of your “car racing” when your boyfriend patted your shoulder.

“Yeah?” You turned to him, he sighed when he looked at your notes covered in drawings.

“Schools done for the day, it’s time to go to the dorms.” He gently grabbed your bag and you got up excitedly.

“Can we make ramen!?” You asked him excitedly, and you could’ve sworn his beak shifted in a small smile.

“Okay.”

You talked about the most random things as you passed the school buildings on the way to your rooms. Sometimes Tokoyami had to pull back the conversation to bring you to a conversation he was still interested in by a few phrases,

“Can we go back to that one thing, I’m still thinking on the topic”

“Oh, wait, we were talking about the other thing. Can we go back to that I’m still confused.”

He always made sure you knew he was still interested and if you wished to skip over a subject, all you had to do was say the word and he wouldn’t bring it up again.

You became a little quieter when you reached his room and opened the door for your birdbrain.

You looked at his black nails and watched how the color was chipped in some places.

“We need to paint them again,” you said as you shut the door.

“Paint, what?”

“Oh, your nails. They’re getting all chippy again.” You crawled into his lap when he jumped unceremoniously onto the bed. He carded one hand through your hair and you held the other, plucking off little pieces of each nail until the whole hand was clear of the black polish.

When you dropped his hand another came in its place and you started on that one. Since his hand would be at an odd angle if he played with your hair this time, he picked up his poetry book and read some aloud. He told you which ones he wrote before he read them and at the end of each one you dropped his hand and clapped lightly to the wonderful words.

When you finished re-painting each nail, he wrapped up the poem he was reading and gently put the book back on the side table. The room was rather bright, and considering brightness keeps dark shadow in line, you didn’t bat an eye the first time you came in his room. White walls some pastel stuff and of course, a lot of black.

You sat up excitedly and patted your lap, he turned suddenly and flopped down onto your thighs. “Where’s dark shadow? I’ve barely seen them today.”

“They usually calm down when you’re around so I’m not sure where they are.” That was his last full sentence before he melted into a chirping mess. He coo’ed and shrilled gently and it made your heart soar.

While one hand pet your boyfriend you took a picture of him to send to Kaminari who would most likely laugh. You hugged Tokoyami when he said it was time for bed and kissed his beak which in return, nuzzled your face gently.

You slept soundly that night. Something watching you protectively from the shadows.

When you woke in the morning, a package was on your desk, brown paper packaging tied with white string, in the bow of the string was a dried rose. You knew it was from your lovely boyfriend before you had to open it, he always gave you dried roses to keep or do as you please with it. You smiled and untied the ribbon, the box opened suddenly to reveal pictures on every wall of the box. One of you and him at the beach, he looked very bashful in his swim-trunks and sunburned shoulders, one of you both cuddled on the couch with the fireplace, that was taken at his parents house it must’ve been taken by his mom because his dad was in the background and you and Tokoyami were dead asleep. There were countless others that made your face break into a smile, Tokoyami was a hopeless romantic.

“Do you like it?” You jumped a bit when Dark Shadow’s voice spooked you.

“Yes I do. Where were you yesterday?” You asked incredulously.

“I was making this for Tokoyami. It took forever by the way.” You smiled at your boyfriend’s quirk.

“Were you watching me last night? I felt weird.” They nodded quickly.

“We want to keep you safe.”

“That’s fine, just tell me next time you’re going to do something like that.”

A knock on your door had you turning your head, and you watched as Dark Shadow slunk under it.

“Hi!” You hugged your boyfriend when the door opened.

“Hello, love. Did you like the gift we made?” You pulled Tokoyami onto your bed and hugged him excitedly.

“Yes! Thank you.”

[gomgeomeogmeogmy]

todd and knox friendship headcanons??

cause their friendship is so underrated (could also incorporate anderperry and knarlie if you want)

Oh my god yes, their friendship deserves SO much more attention

It was one of my first posts, but Todd and Knox bounce poetry ideas off of each other and read their poems to each other to make sure it’s good

They are each other’s biggest hype men 1000%

Todd hypes Knox up a lot more subtlety, usually telling him that the poems are fantastic or clapping for him, but Knox goes over the top. He starts cheering at the top of his lungs, yelling about how incredible his writing is etc

They write poems for/about each other

Before Todd confessed to Neil and before Knox confessed to Charlie, they would complain about their feelings to each other

Now they just complain about their boyfriends together, sometimes it’s about how painfully adorable they are, other times it’s how painfully idiotic they are (considering their boyfriends are best friends and fuel each other’s chaos, it’s usually the ladder.)

If Knox and Charlie are having an argument, Knox will always instantly turn to Todd for comfort/advice

Besides Neil, Knox is the only person Todd goes to when he’s having a panic or an anxiety attack for comforting or help calming down

When they don’t have the energy to talk to people but still need company, they naturally gravitate to each other

They both have a mutual understanding of each other and just sit quietly in the room together, doing their own thing and minding their own business but just happy to have the company without having to make conversation

If Knox is having a bad day, Todd will doodle little pictures for him, usually it’s a stick figure with flowers around it that says “I hope you have a good day!” Or “I’m proud of you!” And will silently place it on Knox’s lap and walk away

Knox keeps all the doodles in a notebook he carries on him constantly and looks at them when he’s feeling down

Knox does the same for him but instead of stock figures, he’ll draw Todd’s favorite birds with flowers and hearts around them and will always write a small message at the bottom, usually like “it’ll all be okay <3” or “I love you, bud”

Whenever Todd learns a new bird fact he’ll text it to Knox completely out of the blue, and Knox never questions it, he just goes along with it and asks questions about the bird or tells him that’s awesome and asks for more facts

They make each other flower crowns when they hang out outside

Since they both struggled with their sexual identities so much, they would often talk about their sexualities together to try and figure out what they were comfortable identifying as

To add to that, Todd was the first person Knox came out to, and Knox was the first person Todd came out to

They have friendship bracelets

They constantly make jokes about being a secret couple (Neil and Charlie don’t care, they started the joke actually) it’s become a huge inside joke with the poets that Todd and Knox are in love and Neil and Charlie are just cover up

Knox and Todd are the best cooks in the group and cook/bake together on the weekends

They go on picnics together, Todd talks about the birds they see and Knox talks about the clouds and trees (Knox is a nerd and knows all the different types of clouds and knows everything about plants)

Todd brings Knox flowers he likes and Knox will press them for him and give them back in a pretty glass frame

They have code names for all their friends and use them to talk about their friends infront of them just to piss the group off

They have made up hand signals to communicate when they’re in a group of people and wanna gossip

They also made hand signals so if Todd gets anxious and needs to get away from the situation, he can signal at Knox and Knox will make any excuse he can to get Todd out of the situation

They are scarily in sync. They say the same thing at the same time constantly, they make the same face at the same time, have the same body language, the group HATES it it scares them all

[legends-live-in-memories]

Picture Perfect

AYO! its me back with more content for the second time this week while i ignore my other wips again. this is a lil gift for @queen-o-leen who i promised wholesome content for! I hope you like it!

Timinette/Timari Oneshot 1.9K words (not related to my other timari oneshots)

Summary:

“Tim spends a nice day in a park in Paris and takes a picture of a pretty girl.

He somehow gets an almost date out of it.”

no warnings this time. completely family-friendly. I know i surprise myself with this one too.

without further ado

He would be the last to admit that Jason was right and that time away was what he needed at this point in life but it can’t be ignored that, for the first time in possibly three years, Tim was having a wonderful day. He was having a wonderful week actually. After one too many unsuccessful cold cases and the simmering anxiety of off-world missions, his family, primarily Jason, for some reason, demanded that he take some time off and away from his unusual brand of normal. How that meant being sent across the Atlantic Ocean to Paris of all places, he wasn’t entirely sure. Alfred probably had a hand in that decision given that, as part of his forced vacation, Tim was not allowed to actually plan any of it. Him. Timothy Jackson Drake. The guy who stalked and manoeuvred his way into Batman’s house and team. The guy who tracked and found said man when the universe thought he was dead but was actually drifting through time. Yeah, Tim was not pleased about being led blind on his vacation. 

At least Paris was a nice city. And he brought his camera. He figured he could use this time to get back into old hobbies and what better hobby to start up again in the city of love than photography? He’s taken pictures of every tourist attraction worth visiting by his second day and began to take candid shots of people and animals. Would Damian like the animal pictures? Maybe, if they came from someone who wasn’t Tim. Is he going to try and give them to him anyways? Absolutely not. He liked his liver where it is, thank you very much. They would serve as great bribing material however. But that’s a thought for another day. 

Right now he was working on capturing what could possibly be described as the stereotypical outing with friends. He’s sitting along some bushes near the entrance of a park and staring at a group of teens his own age hanging around. He spots a brunette with thick curls of hair animatedly speaking with a guy in a vibrant cap. She’s waving a camera herself, and he appreciates her taste in equipment. Her eyes spark with fox-like mischief while the cap guy has a peaceful aura about him; like an old turtle. Next he sees a blonde, her hair is in a ridiculously high ponytail and she’s in a deep conversation with a red head off to the side of the whole group; her words are rushing out of her and she’s a buzzing bee with excitement. Another blond is in the area, but he sits in a broad patch of sun possibly napping with an open book on his chest. Very cat-like Tim supposes. He barely pays them more than a second of thought however. No. 

His focus is on the quaint beauty directly in his line of sight. She’s poised up against the giant tree trunk with a sketchbook in her lap and pencils surrounding her. Her hair hangs by her shoulders in twintails and it’s a colour so dark it seems to absorb the shade of the tree. She’s scribbling furiously on the page before her and her tongue is slightly peaking out to the side. Her forehead is creased with stress lines and her shoulders hunch slightly over her frame. She’s the vision of deep concentration and dedication and Tim would be a fool not to capture her. He’s gotten wide shots of her companions but now he wants to focus on her. 

Looking through the lens of his camera he zooms in on her profile. When his camera focuses, he spots a constellation of freckles across her cheeks, barely there, almost blending in with her complexion but Tim is nothing if not hypervigilant. He goes to take another photo when a bug flies into view. It’s a ladybug. It lands precariously on the tip of her nose and it’s just the thing that breaks her out of her work-induced trance. Tim is watching her now, long forgetting to click the shutter. Her eyes cross as she stares intently at the black-spotted creature and its presence seems to amuse her. She’s giggling to herself, as if sharing an inside joke with the bug and reaches a slim finger to swipe the insect gently from her nose. She inspects it and smiles a smile so soft that not even a feather could compare. He feels like an intruder. More so than one who takes pictures of cute strangers in public. 

Coming back to his senses, he takes another picture, the final picture, and lowers the camera from his face. He looks back at his temporary muse and finds that she is already looking at him. Her head tilts in confusion. Apprehension. Possibly a bit of fear. Which is valid given that Tim was pointing a camera at her from across the public park. What should he do though to quell her fears? 

He felt his face lift into a grin; he didn’t need to look at himself to know it was awkward and forced. A shrug of his shoulders and a flimsy wave of the camera in his hand was the only thing he did. Before he could begin to stumble over himself in apology, however, she surprised him. With a cautious hunch, her shoulders brought up to her ears, and an embarrassed smile to match his own, she slowly flips her sketchbook around and he comes face to face with, well, his face. It was a portrait of him. She had drawn a portrait of him. And she was showing him. Feeling embolden, he flips his camera to show her the screen but she’s too far away. He gets up on unsteady legs, cramped from his uncomfortable position, and begins a slow stride towards her. She meets him in the middle.

“Hi.” He barely speaks those words. They’re more like an exhale or a sigh of relief that he hadn’t scared her off. 

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind the drawing.” Her voice is high and light. Like a spring breeze. She’s daintily waving at him and he sees that her fingers are rough, and calloused. Unexpected but he finds it rather charming. Before he could get another word in, she’s off like an engine. “I just saw you there, and you had your camera so I figured you were taking pictures of us and thought that if you were then you wouldn’t mind me sketching you in kind but I should have asked and I’m sorry for breaching your privacy—” 

“Wait, slow down.” He fears that if he hadn’t interrupted her when he did she would run out of oxygen. Did she even breathe during her spiel? A voice in his head, that sounds like Cass, utters a soft ‘pot, kettle’ and okay, he sees a lot of himself in her mile-a-minute style of speaking. 

“No need to apologize. I’m flattered, truly. You were right, I was taking pictures of you. And your friends!” he hastily adds that last part. He turns his camera so the display screen faces her and he feels himself hold his breath in anticipation. 

A blush rises to her cheeks, red like the ladybug that interrupted her. He quite likes that colour on her. His eyes drift to the sketch and he’s further impressed by her skill. She has an eye for detail. He notices a bird in the background. It’s a robin. That piques his interest and lights a flicker of fear within him. 

“May I ask,” he begins slowly, unsure of what that little addition could mean. Did she know? How could she? Was his identity compromised?

“Why did you draw a robin in the background? It’s lovely but I’m curious,” he finishes. He’s going to play dumb until he has more information. She seems taken off guard by the question and raises her shoulders to her ears again in an embarrassed hunch.

“Well,” she starts, but she seems unsure and the words die on her tongue. She tries again.

“I just saw it fly by and then it landed behind you. So I thought ‘why not?’ and drew it. It seemed fitting.” She wasn’t looking him in the eye and now he felt kind of felt like a jerk for baselessly accusing some random girl. Of course it was just a coincidence. This bat-paranoia was going to be the end of him one day. It’s by sheer miracles and luck why it hasn’t already. 

“Oh, no worries. It just surprised me because it’s my favourite bird.” Right. Lie to the pretty French girl. But what else could he do? Tell her the truth?

“Then it’s a cool coincidence, huh?” She seems encouraged by that tidbit of information.

“Yeah, pure luck on your part.”

“What?” She seems more startled at that than Tim thinks she should be but before he can think deeper into it she speaks again and he would be a fool to not give her his undivided attention.

“Why did you take a picture of me with the ladybug? If you don’t mind me asking.” That stumps him because, to be honest, he does not know why himself. It just felt right. So he tells her as such.

“Well that would be another coincidence because ladybugs are my favourite insects.” She gives him a full smile alongside that statement and the brilliance of it almost blinds him. He wants to capture that smile for eternity. 

The thought strikes him. He doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows by the Friday of next week he’ll be flying back to Gotham where it’s business as usual and Red Robin won’t have time for commitments and puppy love. But right now? Right now Tim Drake is on vacation with a week and half left and all the time in the world to entertain the idea of a spring romance. Making the decision, he goes for it and takes the chance.

“I was getting a bit hungry. Do you know anywhere that’s good to eat at?” It’s an offer, open to interpretation. If she just lists some place, he knows where her interests lay. If she offers to escort him somewhere, then she’s taken the bait for exactly what it is, an invitation for more; whatever more is. He hopes she takes the bait. 

“Yes I do actually! My parents own a bakery just outside the park.” Her enthusiasm is uplifting and the offer of a place so personal is a good sign in Tim’s book. “Let me show the way, and I could join you if you would like.”

“Perfect. That’s wonderful. It will be my treat since you’re going out of your way on my account.”

“Nonsense. Like I said, it’s my parents’ bakery. They’ll be more than happy to give some complimentary snacks.” She loops her arm around his and begins to drag him to the park gate. She’s strong and her grip is firm and Tim feels lightheaded at the ease with which she pulls him. He can’t help but be swept up in the tides that is this girl. 

“I’m Tim, by the way. Tim Drake.” He offers his name, something he should have done at the beginning.

She looks back at him over her shoulder and he’s caught up in the oceans of her eyes. They’re alight with joy. 

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

“Nice to meet you too.”

They’re almost by the bakery now, he can smell the fresh baked goods from here, and he can’t wait to sit down and get to know this girl better. Maybe get her number by the end of their lunch.

Yeah. Tim was having a wonderful day.

[bakugotsundere]

Hating Him - Bakugou Katsuki (1)

bakugo x (black) fem reader

( still can read if you’re not)

sorry if it bothers you, i just felt that my black readers weren’t feeling black as they were reading y/n stories cause i for sure wasn’t.

Warning: none

Summary: Bakugo and you have hated each other ever since you met, being on the same track team and having the same friend group didn’t make things any better. you 2 have to act like you like each other for the benefit of the friend group until one day you and him are forced to have movie night with the others and you both have had enough of each other’s shit.

in this chapter: you get invited to the movie night and bump into bakugo

The morning smell of outside filled your lungs as you stepped out your house. It was exactly 5:30 in the morning. The streets were not busy and there was barely any noise, just faint sounds of dogs barking and truck drivers in a distance. It was the perfect time to go for your daily run. The chilly air made you happy, it gave you more of a challenge. you zipped your nike training jacket up. It fit you tight, tugging at every curve of yours. The sky was a foggy blue, a few clouds started coming in, along with the sum.

You walked down the steps of your house, stretching your legs when you got to the sidewalk. You looked ahead and yawned as you walked onto the street. Your neighborhood was fairly nice to say the least. Everybody minded their business, especially since your house had been secluded. After your grandmother died, she left one of her houses she owned to you, making it easy for you since you dreaded the idea of having to share a dorm with someone, let alone having to get an apartment.

you placed your airpods in your ears and played Apparently by J.Cole. J.Cole had been your favorite rapper since you were 12 years old, you missed the days where your 12 year old self would dance around your room to his music, now you’re grown and responsibilities are becoming more than just making sure your chores were done. You stretched one last time before taking off.

...

Once you were done, sweat dripped from your face. your breathing was heavy and the cold water bottle in your hand had been long awaited. The sun was now out. The birds chirping got louder and the old lady from across the street was sitting in her chair with her small cat in her lap, you quenched your thirst, swallowing every last drop of water. “Good morning Y/n” She chirped. You wiped your mouth with your wrist smiling, turning towards her, “Goodmorning Ms. Rodriguez.” you reply as you waved.

You finally go back inside your house, feeling at ease. you take off your black vapor max at the door and go to your kitchen, grabbing a nutrigrain bar, you ate it before going upstairs to get ready for your classes. you took your curly hair out of its messy bun. the roots of your hair were finally breathing and it felt good. you scratched your scalp in satisfaction. you looked in the mirror, loving your features and your brown/caramel skin. you never felt the need to put yourself in the 3 categories because to you there was no need to, everybody in the community was black so why separate it into groups.

you placed the shea butter your mother made for you on your face. you took off your semi-sweaty clothes throwing them into your dirty clothes hamper and looked at yourself in the mirror. your body was perfect to most but you didn’t see what everyone saw. your thighs were too thick for your liking, especially since you did track. your breast were too big to you, they sometimes got in the way while working out. you had a 4 pack from the working out, everybody told you that you had an hour glass body but you hated it. if this what a hour glass body was, you hated it.

you took off your panties, replacing your old ones with Tommy Hilfiger ones. You grabbed a pair of black nike sweatpants that fit your thighs perfectly. You took off your bra, letting your breast breath and put on another sports bra, putting on a white t-shirt fresh out the pack. you ran chap stuck along your plump lips, they were more than plump actually if you like them so it didn’t matter. you picked out the roots of your hair leaving it’s on it’s curly state. you had dyed your hair a ginger color, which made you look like sza a little. your fro was like hers too, very big and curly.

You wrapped your apple watch around your wrist and put on some whit nike socks, along with your white air force ones. Your phone started dinging and it was the gc, you had been in with your friend group.

Mina :) > goodmorning whores. Time for class before you become drop outs.

Denki ⚡️> good morning Mina ;)

Midoriya🥬> Goodmorning everybody, i have a big test in Mr. Aizawa’s today so i have to get to studying, talk to you guys later.

Kirishima> Mornin. It’s beautiful out today, isn’t it and i’m not a whore mina.

You> yea, kirishima i’m pretty sure you got caught with cami in the janitors closet.

Iida> Mine was too, you guys need to stop texting and get to class.

You> sure, see you on the track field lida. this gc is getting deader by the day and it’s embarrassing to watch.

(seen by kirishima, Mina, and Bakugou)

lida> typing...

You shut off your phone with a smile, knowing that got him heated. You didn’t even care for his response. you loved messing with lida, it was funny, you sprayed a little vanilla perfume on your body and you were off to a place you dreaded.

...

You were now in the library studying with Mina. Mina was like your best friend, you told her everything and she told you everything. “Have you seen that picture of trey songz you know what?” she asked and your eyes went wide, in shock that she was talking about this in the library. “yes, but i can’t go crazy over it, he made the shit so corny. the whole post he made afterwards had me cringing at my phone so hard. i was like “boy what the fuck” he too old for that shit.” you told her and she giggled.

“I’m having a movie night with the rest of the group this saturday, you have to come. you never come to things with us anymore. Ever since bakugou started hanging out with us, you’ve been avoiding us. i’ve noticed some type of tension between you 2, i hope it isn’t sexual?” she stated and your stomach churned at the thought of that stuck up dummy.

“No, i just like staying to myself, that’s all. i think i’ll come Saturday as long as it’s not going to be a lot of people you know how busy i am with track and stuff.” you stated in reality you hated being around bakugo. especially since he always felt to make rude remarks towards you when everyone wasn’t around. He was normally mean to everyone, but you got it the worse since you had the shortest running time on the team. When track practice would come around you and him would argue with each other every second. you hated being yelled at or talked to badly and your mother sure didn’t raise a bitch so you talked to him just as reckless as he did to you and he hated every second of it since you were the first to ever test him. your personalities didn’t mix well at all.

“it’s only gonna be, denki, bakugo, kirishima, todoroki, asui, uruaka and deku but that’s if bakugo doesn’t mind.”

“yea, i’ll think about it.” you said softly.

...

you were now at practice and the death stares you received from bakugo made you just wanna slap the fuck out of him. His eyes followed you as you warmed up. You could see him start to come towards you and you sighed. His tall figure stood in front of you, blocking the sun, his body shaded you. “You draw too much attention.” He stated as the boys that were on the team stared at you. You were the only girl on the track team so you learned to get used to it. “I know, why are you telling me this?” you asked and he gritted his teeth, “All of those boys are practically eye raping you.” he states, taking in your appearance and you sighed, “I don’t know what to fucking say. these are the only sizes in shirts they have and if my curves happen to show then so be it. it’s not like the whole thing is out.”

Sweat dripped from the side of his head, he had on a white tank top and some nike shorts with some white vapor max. a towel hung over his broad shoulders. your eyes scanned his body, you never thought bakugo was ugly, he was perfect when it came to looks. He was very tall with a slim, muscular build, and a fair skin tone. He had short, spiky, ash-blond hair that looked soft. His eyes were a sharp and bright red in color that showed his hostility. his looks fit his personality though, very cocky.

“Why do you care?” You asked and his cheeks turned a bright pink and anger came upon him, this line made him mad, “I don’t.” he replied angrily. “Well then stop telling me things i already know. All you do is bother me.” you told and his lips curved into a smirk, “Your existence bothers me, imagine how I feel.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing past him aggressively. He can be so fucking annoying. Imaging having to be on the same team as someone you hate. It’s really irritating, especially when the person is somebody as arrogant as he is. He needs to be humbled.

...

You and Bakugou were the only 2 left after practice, your coach was mad at the both of you because of what happened last week with the sub coach. Bakugou had been bothering you that day and you snapped and then you two decided to have a race on your own which didn’t turn out so well since bakugou got mad that you won in the end.

So now you and him were being forced to do “after practice workouts” with each other. You were now lying on the ground of the track floor, exhausted. Bakugou was right next to you, your chest rose up and down, your breathing heavy and your legs worn out. You looked over at him, and he looked over at you. “This wouldn’t have happened if you just wouldn’t hate me so much and accept that i’m faster than you.” you stated and his red eyes stared at your light brown ones. “Can’t blame this all on me. You hate me as well and you don’t know when to shut up. You don’t have to respond to everything i say but you do.” He said and you placed your hands at your stomach, “I’m not about to let you walk all over me like you do everyone else. Your ego is too big and i’m doing nothing but lowering it.”

“Is that what you think?” he asked and you sighed softly looking him in his eyes trying to search for anything but anger but there was no other emotion but that, his pupils did dilate once he noticed how hard you were staring into his eyes though, “It’s not what i think, it’s what i know.” you said. “i don’t understand why you are always so angry all the time. I don’t even know how you have the friends that you have. obviously that means they see past it but i refuse to. i can’t. sorry but that’s just how i am.” you stated sitting up, he sat up with you staring at you, “i don’t understand how you have friends, you are very competitive and just avoid me then. We can always hate each other from a distance.” he stated and you smiled shaking your head as you stood up.

“Can’t do that when we have the same friends and are on the same team and i’m only competitive when it comes to track. So i’ll just hate you regardless and plus you always keep your enemies close. It doesn’t matter though, i’m still faster.” you added on that last part trying to make him mad and you could hear him start to yell as you walked off and a smile came upon your lips.

There’s no way you could ever be friends with him so why even bother trying. Something about him makes your blood boil.

[hopelesshawks]

We already talked about this in dms but like👀 Keigo and a female reader that he thinks is just all cute and shit. But nah she’s actually one of the best dancers in japan and specializes in badass and sexy dances

I went down such a rabbit hole picking out the choreo for this for zero reason 💀💀💀 but man am I here for it. For those curious what I pictured writing this it’s this dance at time code 7:27 choreography is by Jojo Gomez

It’s an 18+ one y’all, minors dni. Warnings for dom/sub dynamics, mention of reader having a vagina, fingering, hand jobs, light edging, light nipple play, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, minor praise kink

“So when are you finally gonna seal the deal with (y/n)?” Mirko asks Hawks one day as they walk their usual patrol route. It’s a quiet day and quiet days always made Mirko more likely to pry. “Seal the deal?” Hawks asks. “Y’know... Do the devil’s tango? Make the beast of two backs? Teach her the birds and the bees?” Mirko teases, wiggling her eyebrows and crowding into his personal space. Hawks rolls his eyes hard and shoves her out of his space, not that it deters her. “It’s not like that,” he tells his nosy friend but she just scoffs in response. “Don’t play like you don’t want to get all up on her, Hawks. You go to that cafe she works at every night after your shift and I’m pretty sure you don’t even like coffee,” Mirko points out. “I like coffee,” Hawks retorts mulishly. “No you don’t.” “Drop it Mirko.” “Oh c’mon! It’ll be easier if you just admit it.” “Fine! She’s adorable, you happy?” Hawks finally huffs, red tinting his cheeks. There’s a beat of silence before Mirko responds but it’s not quite the response Hawks is expecting. “Wait you think (y/n)... is adorable?” Mirko asks. “What do you mean? She is!” Hawks replies defensively. “Relax tough guy, adorable just isn’t the word I’d use to describe her,” Mirko shrugs. “How else would you describe her? She always seems kinda sleepy on her shift and she wears those big oversized sweatshirts,” Hawks elaborates but Mirko continues to look confused by his assessment of you. “Have you never seen her dance before?” Mirko finally asks. “She dances?” Hawks responds.

In Hawks’ personal opinion, Mirko’s reaction is over dramatic. She had stopped in her tracks and stared at him as if he’d sprouted a third head or announced an early retirement. “What?” he asks, even more defensive than before. Mirko heaves a sigh as if Hawks’ ignorance is her greatest source of disappointment. “I forget sometimes you live under a rock, Jesus Christ. We really do need to talk about you getting out more for things other than work and creeping on the sexy dancer barista you have a crush on. Why do you think she’s so tired every shift?” Mirko asks in disbelief. “She’s a student isn’t she? I assumed school stuff!” “You really are hopeless.” “Hey!” “She has rehearsal before her shift dummy, she’s tired from practicing.” “How do you know so much about it huh?” “Well for starters her group has literally won competitions so jot that down. And two we follow each other on Twitter.” “Why do I even ask you things?” Hawks laments. “Shut up, I have an idea,” Mirko suddenly grins. “Oh god, what the fuck are you planning now?” Hawks groans. “I think we should pay (y/n) a little visit during rehearsal, don’t you?”

Hawks follows Mirko through the halls of the university rec center with a growing sense of dread. She looks mischievous and that’s usually a sign that Hawks is going to regret whatever he just signed up for. After they round a final corner, Hawks can clearly hear music coming out of a room down the hall labeled rehearsal room B. Hawks and Mirko push through the door right as the song stops and immediately Hawks realizes that this was a mistake. Gone is your oversized hoodie, instead you’re in just a pair of sweats and a sports bra, covered in sweat and chest still heaving from whatever dance you and the two other girls with you had just done. Hawks should’ve just ignored Mirko and waited to look up one of your dances on YouTube in the privacy of his own apartment. “Hey (y/n)!” Mirko calls out cheerily even as Hawks mentally curses her out for dragging him here. Your gaze snaps over to the two of them and immediately you break out into a wide grin, the same one Hawks had been fawning over as cute and precious for the past several weeks. “What are you two doing here?” you ask as your friends grab water. “We were in the neighborhood and I remember you mentioning you rehearse around this time so I figured why not swing by?” Mirko replies and god does Hawks hate her right now. “You guys have perfect timing actually, we’re working on something to the song ‘Ride’ by Ciara and it would be really great to get an outside opinion on it. Would you guys mind sticking around to check it out? I promise it’ll be quick the other girls have something right after this,” you ask the two pros, giving your best puppy dog eyes. Hawks wants to politely decline, he’s having enough trouble keeping himself in check as it is thank you very much, but before he can Mirko is already agreeing and he doesn’t have the heart to shut things down when you look so excited. “Ah amazing!! Ok! Just sit at the front of the room and be our audience!” you beam and Hawks is helpless but to comply.

Hawks’ eyes trace over every inch of your body as you start the music and then get into the starting formation of the dance. Hawks can tell the moment you’ve focused in on performing your choreography because your whole demeanor and energy shifts. It’s commanding and confident and very, very sexy. He’s starting to understand Mirko’s reaction to his earlier description of you because the woman he sees before him now? Well adorable doesn’t quite fit the bill anymore. He’s already half hard in his work pants, much to his chagrin. What would the tabloids say if they knew he was getting this aroused in public? It’s not exactly befitting of the number two hero considering he’s supposed to be a role model for future generations. But could anyone blame him? The way you move your body and swing your hips is mesmerizing. At one point you slowly roll your body down to grind your hips to the floor and it’s impossible for Hawks not to imagine you using that same precise control to grind down onto his dick. He tries to focus on the music instead in hopes it will help him calm down but it only takes a second for him to realize the song is painting the very same image he’s trying desperately to clear from his head. He’s almost positive Mirko is smirking beside him but he can’t focus on her, you’ve captured the entirety of his attention.

Then the chorus hits and Hawks is really in trouble. You’re singing along. You’re singing “they love the way I ride it” and making direct fucking eye contact with him while you swing your hips in a slow, sensual grind and how can he not react to that? His wings flare and puff out instinctively, his cheeks going red, and his dick is now fully erect and leaking precum into his boxers. It would be mortifying if he weren’t too focused on your every move to truly remember his surroundings. Eventually the song ends and even though Mirko stands to go compliment you and your friends on a job well done, Hawks stays rooted in place. He doesn’t dare move as his painfully hard cock twitches in his pants. Sweat drips down your neck and god he wants to lick it off you so goddamn bad he barely even notices you saying bye to Mirko and your friends until the door is shutting behind them.

Hawks hasn’t even fully registered that the two of you are now alone in the room before he’s coming up behind you and wrapping an arm around your bare torso. You open your mouth to ask what’s up with him when you suddenly feel his erection against your backside. “Tell me you don’t want this or I won’t be able to stop,” he all but growls against the shell of your ear. “What if I do want it though?” you ask breathlessly as you shamelessly grind your ass back against his throbbing dick. The moan that crawls its way out of his throat in response is guttural, he genuinely can’t think of a time he’s ever been more turned on in his life as he wastes no time spinning you around to face him and pressing you up against the wall. “You knew what you were doing didn’t you?” he asks before dropping his nose down to run along your jaw. You shudder as he licks a long stripe up your neck, delighting in the salty taste of your sweat. “Maybe?” you hedge at first but then he bites the column of your throat hard enough you’re sure it’ll leave a mark and you can’t help but whimper. He draws back to look you in the eye, his pupils blown so wide they’ve almost completely consumed his golden irises. “Don’t lie to me little dove,” he warns. “I may have gone a little harder than usual because you were watching me,” you admit and it’s apparently the right answer as Hawks all but chirps his satisfaction before leaning down to press a bruising kiss to your lips that has you melting. One of his hands slides up to grasp and squeeze one of your breasts but even that is not enough for him and in the next moment one of his feathers glides in to swiftly cut your sports bra off entirely. You’re about to protest but the words die in your throat as Hawks starts pinching and twisting one of your nipples. “Does that feel good little dove?” he asks and all you can do is let your head fall back against the wall and nod your approval.

Hawks takes advantage of your head’s position to resume leaving marks on your exposed neck as his free hand snakes its way into your sweatpants and panties. As his fingers finally reach your dripping sex you feel him moan against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You’re so wet for me already,” he notes as he slowly slides a finger inside of you. “Want you, need you,” is all you can keen as he drags his one finger torturously slowly inside of you. “Want me that bad love?” Hawks teases and your answering nod is almost frantic as he inserts another finger and takes careful note of the way you squirm. “Use your words,” he commands. “I want you so bad Hawks please,” you beg but even as he uses his thumb to lightly brush against your sensitive clit he still doesn’t budge. “I don’t know, you were so naughty teasing me so much in front of Mirko and your friends. Do you understand how turned on I was?” he asks but you can only whimper in response. You jerk your hips forward in desperate search of more friction or movement or something but all that accomplishes is Hawks using the hand not currently buried inside you to hold your hips still. “I want you to feel how turned on your little show made me little dove. Can you do that?” he asks. “Y-yes,” you moan before obediently reaching one hand out to feel his hardened length through his pants. God he’s so big, and it only emphasizes to you how much you want him inside you. “Not gonna get much done from there, little dove, don’t be shy. I want you to feel me, feel the cock you’re so fucking desperate for,” he growls, slowly dragging his fingers in and out of you to emphasize his point. It’s so good but it’s not nearly enough so you fumble with the belt and button of his pants until finally, finally you can slip your hand past the waistband and into his boxers to grasp firm hold of his weeping cock.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a devastating rhythm, your hands moving in sync to drive both of you towards your respective climaxes. Your moans echo around the small practice room and it’s music to Hawks’ ears. You’re close, so close, right on the precipice of orgasm when suddenly Hawks is leaning in to whisper into your ear a simple command: “Stop.” His hand stops moving and then he slowly extracts his fingers from inside you. You whine at the loss, pussy desperately clenching around nothing but you obediently stop your hand's movement. "Don't look so disappointed, I thought you wanted my dick," Hawks teases. "I do, fuck, I do," you groan. "Be specific. What do you want?" "I want your dick inside me, please Hawks I'm begging, I want it so bad," you whine. What a pretty sight you make squirming and whining for him. Hawks thinks he could watch you like this forever but even he is starting to get impatient so he decides to finally give you what you want. He shoves his own pants and boxers down low enough for his dick to spring out of its confines, the head flushed red and glistening with precum. Meanwhile his feathers push down your own sweatpants and panties as you watch him with half-lidded eyes, eager to finally feel his hardened length inside you. He has you wrap your arms around his shoulders and places his hands on your waist. "Hop up pretty girl," he commands and you eagerly obey, allowing him to lift you and then wrapping your legs around his waist to further support you weight. "Ready?" he asks. "God, yes Hawks please," you groan as he lines himself up with your waiting entrance. Hawks complies with an almost feral grin, wasting no time in shoving himself fully inside you. You groan as his thick length stretches you open but the slight burn feels so good as he fills you up. "You're doing so good for me, baby. So good," he praises and you practically purr your satisfaction. "P-please. Move," you moan and Hawks doesn't need to be told twice as he begins fucking into you in earnest. All words are lost between the two of you, the only language you need being the moans, groans, whimpers, and whines the two of you pull out of each other. As he drills into you harder and harder you rapidly feel yourself once again approaching climax. "Hawks I'm gonna-" you start but he cuts you off. "Me too baby, hold out a little longer and we'll cum together ok?" he ask. "Ok," you whimper, trying so hard to be good for him. Just a few long deep strokes later he finally gives you permission to cum and almost immediately you cry out his name, clenching and squeezing around him as he tumbles into his own climax. His groan is long and low as he spills his seed inside you and you relish each and every moment of it.

As the two of you finally come down from your highs Hawks carefully sets you back down on the ground. "Shit," he swears. "You can say that again," you laugh breathlessly. "Maybe I should invite you to more rehearsals from now on," you joke. "I'd much rather you give me a private show at my place," he replies easily. "I think I can make that work." "Good." "When would you like your first performance?" "How about now? You were just bragging about how much 'they' like it when you ride it. Time to put your money where your mouth is." "I'd like nothing more."

[phoenix-downer]

Spring Birthday

After Sora’s return, Naminé’s friends celebrate her birthday with her. While her early days were lonely, her life is very different now, and she treasures each new memory with the people dear to her heart.

~1650 words. Post-Kingdom Hearts III and Melody of Memory. Gen, Friendship, Fluff. Naminé POV. Written for @naminezine​, and the banner art is by the lovely @somniumars​.

“Naminé, when is your birthday?” Kairi asked over breakfast one day, scones with jam and clotted cream, served with a hot cup of tea for both of them. They liked to visit this cafe together at least once a month. It had outdoor seating, and the weather was finally warm enough again for them to sit outside with light jackets. 

Naminé stopped buttering her scone for a moment and frowned. It was a simple enough question, and yet she found herself unsure of what to say. 

“Well, I suppose it was the day Sora released his heart to save you,” she said at last. “But as glad as I am to be alive, it feels strange to celebrate that day, considering what happened.” 

“I understand,” Kairi said softly. “Are there any other days you can think of?”

Naminé paused once more and thought as Kairi sipped some more of her tea. The only other day she could really think of was… 

“The day of my rebirth. It was spring on Radiant Garden. The sun was shining, the flowers were blooming, and the weather was perfect.” She sighed happily at the memory. “I’ll never forget what it felt like to walk outside for the first time in a body of my own.”

“Then why don’t we make that your birthday? I know we technically missed it last year, when we were all searching for Sora, but it’s coming up here soon.” 

“Sure, that sounds nice.” Naminé put one more cube of sugar in her tea to get it to just the right sweetness, then added a little more cream and stirred. “I’ve never really thought about having a birthday of my own before.”

“Well, you deserve to have one,” Kairi said with a determined glint in her eye. “You’re your own person. Always have been, always will be.”

The two girls chatted some more as they finished their breakfast, and the subject soon slipped away from Naminé’s mind. It wasn’t until she and Xion were gathering shells together on Destiny Islands a few days later when the topic of birthdays came up again.

“See,” Xion said as she picked up a thalassa shell, “I like these ones the most, with the pink centers and yellow edges.” 

“I like them too. Yellow’s one of my favorite colors.”

Yellow was the color of the sun. A hopeful color for a girl that had begun her life in a cage, longing to see the outdoors for herself. For that reason alone it was precious to her. 

“You like blue too, right?” Xion said. She placed another thalassa shell in Naminé’s palm, this one with a blue center and yellow edges.

Naminé nodded. “Yes. Blue is the color of the sky… of the waves… all the things I longed to see when I was imprisoned in Castle Oblivion.” 

“It suits you, and so does yellow,” Xion said with a smile. “Born from the waves, and reborn during the spring.” 

“Xion, when is your birthday?” Naminé suddenly asked. She realized she hadn’t really gotten to celebrate it with her before. 

“Oh, my birthday? I figured it should be during the fall. I don’t know why, but I’ve always been drawn to falling leaves, the seasons changing, that kind of thing.” She smiled ruefully. “I suppose because I felt like my time was limited, just like those leaves. Kairi actually asked me about it recently, I think because she wants to—”  

Her eyes went wide, then she coughed and craned her neck. “Look, I see some more shells over there!”

Naminé found Xion’s startled reaction rather curious, but she didn’t press her friend. It was just nice to spend time together sharing a hobby they both enjoyed. For a girl who had started life with no friends of her own, Naminé was lucky to have so many now. 

The next time she met with her friends, it was for a picnic on Rapunzel’s world, in a clearing in the woods near a small pool. The weather was perfect, sunny with a breeze blowing dandelions and flower petals through the air, and she and Sora and Rapunzel were all cloud gazing after a delicious lunch of sandwiches and cookies and lemonade. 

“See that one right there?” Rapunzel said, pointing up at the sky. “It looks like Maximus.” 

“It sure does!” Sora put his hand behind his neck and grinned. “The sky’s full of all sorts of interesting clouds today.” 

“I wish I had my sketchbook with me,” Naminé said with a sigh. “I’d love to draw all of them.” 

“Take a picture with your Gummiphone then,” Sora suggested. “You can always draw it later based off of that.” 

“I’d like to, but I’ve run out of room in my sketchbook. I could really use some new pencils, too.”

Sora and Rapunzel exchanged glances, and Sora grinned.

“Naminé, you should come to the castle,” Rapunzel said. “I’d love to show you some of my art supplies. Have you ever tried painting before?”

Naminé shook her head. “No, I haven’t, but I’d love to. Thank you for the invitation.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go now!” Sora sat up and sprang to his feet. 

The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon trying out Rapunzel’s art supplies. Well, more like Rapunzel showed Naminé her things and let her try them out while Sora kept typing away at his Gummiphone. Naminé giggled at how he still typed with one finger, like a bird pecking at grains of rice. 

“There we go,” he said all of a sudden, then put his phone in his pocket. “What’d I miss?”

Naminé and Rapunzel both giggled and showed him what they’d made: a painting to hang on the walls of Naminé’s room in Twilight Town. It was of the beautiful woods where they’d had the picnic with dandelions flower petals floating through the air. As soon as she got home, she put it up and gave it a satisfied nod.

The days flew by until at last it was the anniversary of her rebirth. There was a knock on the door late in the afternoon, and when she went to get it, she was surprised to see Riku and Roxas waiting there for her.

“Hey Naminé,” Roxas greeted with a grin. His eyes were playful, like he had a big secret he couldn’t wait to share.

“Come with us, there’s something we’d like to show you,” Riku added, and she ducked back inside to grab a few things before following them through the woods and to the Old Mansion. 

“Why are we here?” she asked. 

“You’ll see,” was all Roxas and Riku said, and she followed them inside. She was shocked by how nice the entrance looked, like someone had been in here and cleaned things up—

“Surprise!”

She gasped as she entered the foyer. A huge banner hanging from the stairs read Happy Birthday Naminé, and all her friends were gathered around a large table in the center of the room. The evening light shone through the window behind them, pink and purple and blue, another gorgeous twilight on this world she called home now. 

“Happy Birthday Naminé!” her friends all cheered, and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. So this was what they had been plotting and planning all this time. Roxas grinned and grabbed a camera to take a few shots, and Sora and Riku had some of those confetti poppers that they popped with loud crackling noises.  

The seashell decorations were yellow and the star candles were blue on the cake Xion held. Axel lit the candles, and they cast flickering lights and shadows over everyone’s faces.

Kairi leaned close and murmured, “Make a wish, but keep it secret.”

“A secret?” Naminé asked, tilting her head.

“It won’t come true if you tell us,” Ven explained, and Terra nodded. 

As Naminé looked at the faces of her friends, what she should wish for became clear. She knew, deep in her heart, what she wanted more than anything.

With that, she blew out the candles, and everyone cheered loudly. Aqua swept the cake out of Xion’s hands so she could cut it properly, and then everyone sat around the table. The cake was delicious, vanilla and lemon, and after everyone was done eating, it was time for Naminé to open her presents. 

“Here!” Sora said, his eyes shining as he handed her the first one. “It’s from all of us.”

Naminé’s hands shook as she removed the wrapping paper. She wasn’t used to getting gifts, and it took her some time to free the box. But once she did, she couldn’t have stopped the smile on her face even if she’d wanted to.

“They’re like the paints Rapunzel has! And in all the colors I like too.” She hugged the box to her chest. “Oh, thank you so much everyone, I can’t wait to use these.” 

When she was finished unwrapping the rest of her presents, more art supplies and nice jewelry and cute clothes, she thanked her friends for making this such a wonderful birthday night. But there was one last thing that would make it truly perfect.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Naminé said, “let’s make a painting together. So we have something to help us remember tonight.”

Naminé loved drawing on her own, but drawing with her friends was truly wonderful. Everyone brought their own unique spark to the table. And when the painting was finished, it was one huge flowing mosaic of color and life and creativity. Sure, it wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was something truly unique that only they could have made. And that was why it was a work of art. Not because it was perfect or technically skilled, but because it had their hearts poured into it.

Naminé couldn’t have asked for a better way to commemorate her birthday.  

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A/N: Thank you so much to the mods for making this project possible and for being so caring and supportive! And thank you to the other contributors, this zine was such a joy and I enjoyed talking to you all. A big thank you too to Somnium for drawing the banner! I really enjoyed working with you!

And thank you for reading!

[imagineyourworld-old]

The Duchess and the Captain (Part Two)

Rex x Fem!Duchess!Reader

Summary: You get to know your husband, Duke Palpatine, and quickly realize what you will be missing in your marriage. Can Captain Rex make you feel better?

Warnings: Mentions of smut (maybe slight smut, I don’t really know, sex is not forced on the reader but expected of her and therefore might be triggering to some, but no detailed descriptions) 

Previous Part, Masterlist

-------

The next few days passed you by in a heartbeat. You spend most of your time getting acquainted with your new home, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. In addition to the main house there was the orangerie, a small tea parlor in the park and two different gardens just for afternoon strolls. And of course the stables, houses for servants, barracks for the guards and so many other building you didn’t even try to remember.

“You really are lucky”, your mother sighed with a content smile.

The two of you were strolling through the rose garden behind the house, the smaller of the two gardens. It was beautiful, everything was well kept and every flower had its place, but every time you were here you felt out of place. Confined to your life, trapped like the birds that Padmé had told you your husband insisted to keep locked in cages in the garden.

“I will be sad to leave you, but I really do need to get back to your father and brother. Now that you’re happily married it’s Edward’s turn and finding him a wife will be a lot more challenging than finding you a husband, you know how stubborn he can be.”

Though you tried you couldn’t really listen to your mother. All she talked about was how lucky you were to be married to the Duke, how happy she was for you and how excited you must be to see your husband again tomorrow.

You let your gaze sweep through the garden until it halted at General Skywalker. The General had been following whenever you set foot outside the house, and even inside he was never far. The first time you met he had told you that those were your husband’s wishes, that he was only there to keep you safe, but part of you feared he might be reporting your every move back to the Duke. Even the smile the General send you could not easy your suspicions.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Finally your mother’s word rang through to you.

“I’m sorry. I’m just... lost in my thoughts...”

Your mother put a reassuring hand on your arm. You leaned into the familiar touch, a small piece of home in this strange new place.

“Are you thinking of your husband? Do you miss him very much?”

Sometimes you were sure your mother had to be joking. She must realize that you didn’t love, didn’t even like, Palpatine. And it wasn’t just the age difference, which in itself made every interaction with him awkward, he was just so cold. It was obvious he cared as little for you as you did for him and that might have been what bothered you most. You had been more or less forced to marry him, for his money, his title and because no one else had asked to marry you, but he could have had anyone. Half the girls in the country would have married him in an instant, so why did he choose someone he didn’t have any feelings for? Why did he waste his one chance at happiness and propose to you?

“I... I was just thinking that our marriage might not be as it should. We’re nothing like you and father”, you finally said, hoping this would both voice your concerns and not be too obvious about them. But your mother just laughed.

“Darling, that is normal. Relationships take time and work, your father and I didn’t instantly fall in love, but when you’re raising a family together and spending your lives together love will come. And you are so easy to love, it will be alright.”

You should have known your mother would not understand your concerns, she had never shared your dreams of marrying for love, of being swept off your feet in a fairytale like romance. Before you could pretend to agree with her, however, you were interrupted.

Obi-Wan came to a halt before you. He inclined his head in a small bow before addressing you and your mother.

“Your Grace, my lady, the Duke has returned and wishes to see you.”

At first you thought, though you knew it was wishful thinking, that he was talking about another Duke. Maybe one of your husband’s friends had come to visit and wanted to meet you for the first time. But you knew you would have had to face Palpatine, even if he was a day early.

“Thank you, Kenobi. Thought I would like to change before greeting my husband. If you would be so kind as to send Padmé up to my room.

The butler nodded.

“Certainly, my lady.”

-------

-------

Half an hour later you were sitting in the drawing room with your husband.

“I take it the house is to your liking”, he said.

Those were the first words either of you had spoken since your “Good afternoon” ten minutes earlier.

You sat your cup down on the saucer and smiled at him. A smile you hoped seemed happy and sincere.

“Very much, thank you.”

Silence took hold of you again. You refrained from playing with your spoon or the hem of your dress, two of your nervous habits your mother had told you a thousand times to drop.

You looked around the beautiful room. The curtains were moving ever so slightly in the wind that came through the open windows, one of your husband’s ancestors was staring at you from the huge portray above the fire place, his eyes seemed to follow your every move.

“I will only be here one night. Urgent business calls me away my estate in Naboo tomorrow, technically I should not even be spending the night and go there right away, but I suppose we should get to work.”

You turned away from the picture to look at the Duke. He was staring at you with an unreadable expression in his cold eyes, so cold and calculating, they almost made you shiver.

“I’m not sure I understand”, you said, hating how weak and uncertain you sounded. “What ‘work’ are you referring to?”

For a moment your husband’s masked moved as he looked at you in shock. You hated how he could make you feel dumb and inferior without saying a single word, but you knew it was not your place to say anything about that.

“I am of course talking about producing an heir.”

Now you couldn’t stop the shiver. You knew you had to give your husband an heir, multiple if possible, but part of you had hoped he would forget all about that part of your marriage after your wedding night. But you knew your duty and you had heard more than enough stories about women who refused their husbands, or even had lovers, and the terrible things that happened to them and no matter how much you didn’t want to, you would rather get it over with than suffer the same fate.

“Yes, I... of course. I am looking forward to it.”

Another cold glance from Palpatine and the very forced smile fell from your lips.

“It is not for you to look forward to or to enjoy, it’s is your duty.”

All you managed to do was nod. What else were you supposed to do? Where you supposed to answer anything?

Palpatine seemed content with your reaction though. He placed his tea on the small table between you and got up.

“One more thing”, he said as he reached the door. “I will be taking General Skywalker with me from now on, there were some... disputes the last couple of days and I will be needing more protection. Captain Rex will be your personal guard from now on.”

Without so much as a goodbye he left the drawing room and closed the door behind him.

With a loud sigh you leaned back on the couch, ignoring where your corset dug into your ribs uncomfortably. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“It’s just one night, he’ll be gone again tomorrow”, you whispered, knowing that it might just be one night this time, but that your husband would always come back for more and there was nothing you could to to stop him.

“My lady, are you alright?”

You hadn’t heard anyone entering the room, but even without looking you recognized the familiar voice. Though the words were professional, the tone made it clear that Rex wasn’t just asking because it was expected of him, he really cared, at least to some degree. 

You opened your eyes to find his own focused on your face, an uncertain look in them, as if he wanted to step closer but didn’t dare to. 

“No”, you whispered. 

Abruptly you sat up straight again. Panic flooded through your veins. You were supposed to say “I’m fine”, not tell anyone, especially a guard, a servant, that you were not alright.  

“Is there something I can do?” 

Now the Captain really did take a step towards you. He wasn’t close exactly, definitely not as close has he had been that night in the kitchen, but you could have sworn you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes and smell a mixture of leather, horses and something you could only describe as sunshine. 

You shook your head. There was nothing he, or anyone, could do. You had gotten yourself into this situation, and not just the having to sleep with the Duke part, but the whole entire marriage. Though it had been expected of you, you could have declined his offer. Your mother would have been disappointed, your father mad, but they would have come to accept your choice. 

After taking another deep breath you decided it was time to get up. But for some reason even something as simple as standing seemed like an impossible deed right now. The Captain instantly noticed your struggle. He stepped even closer, close enough for you to take his hand when he offered it to help you up. 

His skin was rough, making it obvious you were holding the hand of a guard, someone who saddled horses and shot guns all day, but that roughness felt realer than any of the soft fabrics you had touched all your life. 

You knew you should let go the moment you were on your feet, you knew what this would look like should anyone walk in on you, but your thumb seemed to have a mind of its own when it started softly stroking the Captain’s hand. 

He let out a sound that was something between a sigh and a growl while tensing and relaxing within a single second. At first you feared you had overstepped a boundary, a personal that is, because this was without question overstepping any professional boundaries. Your eyes had been focused on your hands, but you slowly lifted them to meet his gaze. The Captain’s eyes were darker than they had been just moments before, but there was an warmth in them you had not seen before. 

“You know”, you whispered in a soft voice as not to interrupt the moment. “I feel better already.” 

And you really did. The guard’s touch and the warmth in his eyes made you feel more comfortable, more relaxed, than you had been for days. 

He opened his mouth, closed it again and then cleared his throat. His voice was deeper than it had been moments before and it made your body tense in unfamiliar places. 

“I’m glad.” 

It seemed as if he wanted to add something when the door burst open. 

“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Skywalker needs your help, he lost something and keeps mumbling about how you’re his only hope”, the intruder, another guard you recognized as Rex’s brother Fives, exclaimed. 

You hadn’t noticed the Captain had let go of your hand until he took a step back. His cheeks were slightly darker than they had been before, but his expression hasn’t changed. 

It was only then, when the blonde moved away from you, that his brother realized you were even in the room. He shot the Captain a look you could not read, no matter how much you wanted to, before bowing slightly. 

“Your Grace, I did not see you there.” 

A soft laugh found its way out of you. You couldn’t help but instantly like Fives. He was more relaxed than his brother, though they shared a light in their eyes that told you how much alike they could be. 

“It’s alright, Fives.” 

The guard’s eyes widened in shock. 

“You know my name?” 

“Your brother told you a bit about you, about your other brothers as well. I myself am very close to my older brother Edward, so... Sorry, I... I should probably stop talking.” 

The times your mother had told you not to discuss family with anyone, especially servants, came to your mind and after already breaking protocol with the Captain earlier you though it best to be quiet. 

Fives didn’t seem to notice your awkwardness as his eyes moved between you and his brother, which you, on the other hand, didn’t notice. 

“We should get to General Skywalker then”, the Captain finally said, interrupting the silence. 

With a nod, a “Good day, my lady” and a bow Fives left the room. His brother followed, but turned around to face you once more. 

“I hope you’ll feel better soon”, he said with a smile. A smile that told you that he didn’t regret what had happened between the two of you earlier. 

You knew you shouldn’t, but you felt the same and tried to show it in your next words. 

“Thank you, Rex.” 

This time he heard you calling him by his name, the most beautiful sound he had heard in his life. But instead of closing the distance between you again, to touch your hand one last time before returning to his duty, he just bowed and hurried to leave the room. 

-------

That evening dinner was a quiet affair. Your husband barely talked, even though your mother tried her best to strike up a conversation. But the hardest part came after the meal when you had to say goodbye to your mother, who would be leaving early the next morning. 

“I will miss you so much, my darling. But you will be just fine, I know it. You’re going to be a great duchess and a good wife.” 

Your mother had tears streaming down her cheeks as she said this. She had the same proud look in her eyes as she did when you had accepted the Duke’s proposal and when you had exchanged your vows, after all, having your daughter marry a rich duke was every mother’s dream and her’s had come true. 

You told her that you would miss her as well, to give your love to your father and brother and that you would write as much as possible and then, after tearful hugs and kisses, your mother was gone and you were all alone. 

With tears still drying on your cheeks you sat at your vanity table and stared at your reflection. In the few days since the wedding you seemed to have aged a lot, not in the positive maturing sense either, you simply looked exhausted. Dark bags were under your red eyes, the colour has left your skin and even your hair seemed lifeless. 

“Pinching your cheeks should help”, Padmé offered as she stepped into the room. 

You turned around to face your maid. She was holding a candle in one hand and a piece of cloth in the other. Before stepping closer to you she laid the cloth down on the foot of the bed. 

“I have brought you a nightdress your husband wants you to wear.” 

The look in her eyes spoke of sympathy and pity and even though you knew she was being kind you resented her for it. If Padmé ever got married she could choose her husband, choose someone she loved and who loved her and not marry a cold old man because it was expected of her. 

“Is there”, Padmé started but hesitated to continue. Only when you looked at her and nodded did she speak again. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable tonight?” 

You took a moment to think about it but ended up deciding that there really wasn’t. You had already downed more wine than usually at dinner and it had done nothing to calm your nerves and in the end you decided that you would rather be fully present for what was about to happen than give your husband the opportunity to do whatever he wanted without resistance. 

“Thank you, but I think I’ll manage.” 

Call it women’s intuition, but both you could tell that Padmé didn’t really believe you. 

“Forgive me for speaking so boldly, but if you ever want to talk about what happens in the bedroom between husband and wife, or anything else for that matter, I am here for you.” 

In that moment you realized that just because your mother had left didn’t mean that you were alone. Yes, Padmé was your servant, but you knew other girls who were good friends with their lady’s maids, so why shouldn’t she be your friend as well as your servant? 

“Thank you very much for the offer, but I doubt there is anything you know that I don’t. After all, you’re not married.” 

She raised an eyebrow and seemed to consider something before ultimately shaking her head. 

“I’m not”, she said in a tone that made you question whether there was someone who held a special place in her heart. “But I have heard that some women think of other men when in bed with their husbands.” 

For some reason you didn’t want to investigate any further Captain Rex popped into your head. The feel of his rough hands against your soft ones, the warmth in his gaze, the sound of his voice and laugh. You quickly shook your head, both to get rid off the thoughts and to hide the colour rising to your cheeks from Padmé. Fortunately your maid knew not to press the issue any further. 

“Should I help you change into your nightdress?”

-------

You supposed you should consider yourself lucky that your husband seemed to be in a hurry to get his visit to your bedroom over with. He was in and out of your room within minutes. The time he was with you, and inside you, still felt like hours rather than minutes. The entire time your husband didn’t speak a word, not even a “good night” when he left again and if it hadn’t been for the noises he made you would have thought it was just as much of a duty for him as it was for you, but your mother had told you enough for you to know that the noises meant he was enjoying himself. 

As soon as you heard the door from your sitting room to the corridor close you hurried off the bed and to your bathroom. Padmé, as if she’d know you would need it, had left a second bowl of water and piece of cloth next to the one you used to wash yourself in the morning. You tried to clean your nether regions as best as you could before returning to the bedroom, where you covered as much of the bed as possible with the two clean towels you had brought from the bathroom. 

Though you didn’t feel as clean as you would have liked it would have to do for now and it didn’t take as much tossing and turning for you to fall asleep as you had anticipated. 

-------

The next morning Rex didn’t see you until a few hours after Palpatine had left. He had asked Echo to stay with you while he arranged for the General’s absence, but around midday he finally managed to relief his brother and take on his duty of watching over you. 

You were seated on a small chaise in the rose garden and Rex tried not to stare at how the sun shone on your hair and made your skin glow. Your eyes were closed and he couldn’t tell whether you were sleeping or simply relaxing, all he knew was that you looked more peaceful than you had the day before. 

“What were you doing all day? I thought you were supposed to always be with me”, you asked. 

Rex didn’t know how you could tell it was him standing in the shade of the cherry tree and no longer Echo since your eyes were still closed. For a moment he entertained the thought that you could sense him as much as he could sense you, but he banned that idea from his head almost as soon as it appeared. You had probably just opened your eyes for a split second and seen him, that had to be it.

“I had to sort through the General’s notes for training and timetables to keep everything running smooth while he is gone, that took a while.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement. Finally you looked at him. He felt as if your eyes could look straight through cloth, flesh and muscle to into his soul, and find something growing there you were never supposed to see. 

“I’m glad you’re here now, Captain.” 

The almost teasing way in which you pronounced his rank reminded him of how you had said his name the day before. He had heard beautiful instruments, stunning voices and the exoctic birds the Duke kept around the gardens, but nothing compared to how you said his name. To him it no longer sounded like a name, but a beautiful song, something to cherish, to think of before falling asleep at night and to haunt one’s dreams. 

Though Rex wasn’t what you would call shy, he was very reserved, especially when dealing with his employer, so he did nothing but nod at your comment and then stare straight ahead. He had already allowed himself too many liberties with you and now, as your personal guard, he had to remain professional, or else risk losing everything. 

You, however, did not seem to get his subtle hint, because you just kept talking. 

“I must admit, I much prefer the other garden, what was it called again? The rose garden is beautiful and everything, but it’s just a little too close to the house, I much prefer something more private. But it is too hot to take a single step more than necessary. I really don’t know how you manage in your uniform, you must be melting. Though, if you want, you could take off your jacket. Only if you want, maybe you’re cold, maybe it’s just me who cannot take this heat, but if you want to -”, you stopped your rambling mid sentence. 

Rex risked a short glance at you. Your face was red, as was your neck, and a single drop of sweat was running down your temple to your neck and even further down towards an area he would not risk looking at. 

“I’m sorry”, you said after a bit of silence. “I often find I cannot stop talking when I’m nervous.” 

He tried, he really tried, not to show his surprise, but his eyebrows seemed to have a will of their own when they lifted in confusion. Though Rex managed not to look at you when he spoke, a small victory. 

“What do you have to be nervous about, my lady?”

Part of Rex knew that this conversation could go in a direction it shouldn’t, meaning anything other than the most basic small talk, but another, larger, illogical part, wanted you to keep talking and to listen to every single word you said. 

Your shadow and your footsteps on the gravel told Rex that you were coming closer. Still he did not turn around to face you, not even when you stopped and stood next to him, close enough that he could touch you if only he moved a few centimeters. 

“Everything, to be honest. And nothing at the same time. I am married, living in a big house and should be the happiest girl alive, but it’s just not what I imagined. I feel so out of place, event though this is my home now, and my husband -” 

Rex felt you taking a deep breath rather than hearing it, your whole body relaxed after your exhale. 

“I guess I should stop talking now. After all, my husband is your employer and the only person who should talk about him even less than me, is you.” 

It was your resigned tone that finally made Rex turn to face you. Your blush was gone, instead you had gone quite pale. Only your bright eyes and your lips, the bottom of which you were currently biting, gave your face pops of colour. 

“Did he hurt you?”, Rex asked against his better knowledge. Yes, he was supposed to protect you, but that protection did not extend to the Duke, who, as your husband, was legally allowed to do with you whatever he wanted. 

You hesitated for a fraction of a moment before shaking your head. 

“No, he didn’t. It’s just... My marriage simply isn’t what I had been expecting.” 

Both relief and sadness flooded through Rex. Of course he was glad the Duke hadn’t laid his hands on you, but his heart was also breaking for you. 

“I suppose I was simply holding out hope for a knight in shining armor for so long that even now I can’t get rid of the idea. But that’s on me for reading too many books and wishing for a fairytale.” 

A twinkle was back in your eyes. Maybe, Rex thought, you were thinking of your childhood dreams or even a childhood love. And though he didn’t like the thought of that, a feeling he shoved down as deep as possible, he was glad to see some of your sadness gone. 

“I’ve heard of other women who gain their happiness through their children instead of their husbands”, he said in a low voice. It was something he had seen with his mother, who gave all her love and care to him and his brothers and didn’t seem to have much for her husband.

“Children...”, you stepped closer to Rex after whispering the word. Your (y/e/c) eyes settled on his honey coloured ones. “That’s the whole reason the Duke even married me, to give him an heir. I guess that really is all I’m good for.” 

Rex’s eyes widened in shock. Did you really think that? Did you not see that there could be so much more to your life? 

“I am sorry, my lady, but I disagree. There is so much more to you than the ability give the Duke an heir. You have your whole life ahead of you and-” 

Suddenly Rex noticed the way your eyes hung on his lips, the astounded expression on your face. 

“I... I’m sorry, it’s not my place to say such things.” 

One second you just stared at Rex, the next you reached out and held his hand in yours. A soft smile was on your face and just like that all his worries of getting scolded disappeared and were replaced by a feeling of content and warmth spreading from his hand all the way to his heart. 

“Thank you, Rex”, you said, your voice soft and sincere. “No one has ever said anything like that to me. You’re a kind man.” 

Rex had gotten compliments before, from his mother, his brothers and his General, but never had they meant as much as the four simple words coming out your mouth. He could have sworn his heart stopped at the combination of your smile, your touch and your words. You were giving him so much by simply being with him and he knew, deep down, that nothing he could say would ever repay you for the way he felt in that moment. 

I finally managed to continue this story. Sorry it took so long, but I wanted to take my time to do this right and with uni starting again time is something I don’t have a lot of recently. 

But a huge thank you to everyone who read and commented on the first part! It really means a lot, even though I haven’t figured out how to reply to you using this blog I have read the comments and they warmed my heart. I hope you’ll enjoy this part as much as the first one and are looking forward to part three. 

Taglist: @and-claudia @pinkiemme @callme-eds

[foodieforthoughts]

Sand and Stars - Chapter Seven

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+, character death, angst, blood, gore, mentions of war, military technicalities (thread with caution)

A/N: This chapter was very difficult to write as I hadn’t written about losing a loved one before. But the entire experience of delving into the psyche of someone who is troubled by such loss was heart-breaking. I also took some inspiration from the song Hold On by Chord Overstreet. Also, I know I include army warfare a little bit, the references is only limited to what I know from media, I’m sorry for any inaccuracies. 

As always, @thelastsock​ was the helpful beta with her wonderful ideas. I love you for being with me while I write this series.

*gif credit to owner

<Chapter Six

Title: Chapter Seven

Darkness. Pain. Screaming. Olivia groaned as she tried to move. Her head throbbed along her temple, the helmet feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. She opened her eyes, wincing at the light and heat that assaulted her. The shrill ringing in her ears making it difficult to concentrate on the next step. Wet sand and soil caking her skin as she tried to rub her face into some semblance of painless clarity. Her leg. The pain getting more intense as her leg swam into focus. No obvious injuries, maybe a fracture.

She blinked her eyes slowly, taking in her surroundings and finally registering what had happened. A straining wail sounded from the wreckage of their chopper. Gary. She pushed herself on her hands wincing as pain shot up her shoulder. She glanced at her arm; a piece of metal was sticking out from it. With a trembling hand, she took a deep breath and pulled the metal shard out, tears brimming in her eyes as blood oozed out from the gash running in rivulets and soaking her sleeve. She applied pressure on her wound, pressing her eyes shut as she tried to breathe through her pain.

Another painful wail sounded from the side of wreckage, making her grab onto the broken blades of the chopper sticking out from the sand to steady herself. She dragged her feet on the soil, stumbling to reach where her Sergeant was.

When she rounded the body of the Little Bird, she wasn't quite sure what she was seeing. Odd angles and red. So much red. Schmidt pinned under the tail. Blood spurting out his mouth with every breath. His leg was being crushed by the metal wreck and his arm was twisted in an inhuman angle with crimson liquid matting his entire body. Olivia fell to her knees next to her friend, sobs leaving her lips and tears streaming down her soiled cheeks. 

“Gary, hey, hold on.” She unclasped the belt of his helmet, pulling it off and throwing it away. 

Schmidt took a shuddering breath when Olivia took his hands in his. “I-I don’t…”

“You won’t,” She interjected, understanding exactly what he wanted to say. She lied. She knew he was going to bleed out and she wouldn’t be able to help. She blinked away the welling tears and looked around trying to spot anyone in their vicinity. The faint sound of gunshots came from a distance. “Someone will come looking for us.” She tried to speak with confidence, but her voice was faltering as Schmidt’s grip loosened in her hand.

“My wife…my kids…” He stuttered, blood beginning to flow out of his nostrils. “Tell them…I will always…love them.”

“You tell them that yourself, Gary. You hear me?” She grabbed at his fatigues, fisting them in her blood covered hand. “You are not dying.” She could hear his breath coming out short as he gasped for air. 

Gary elicited a mixture of laugh and a cry, tears streaming down the side of his face, making a trail on his dusty skin. “C’mon Red…we know…I’m short of time.”

Liv held onto his hand again desperately trying to will him away from the clutches of death. She watched with hazy eyes as her friend held onto the last thread of life, gasping in air and spitting out blood. Her mind pictured the time she had met his wife and his children; how his life partner had made Olivia promise she’d keep her husband safe. Her heart ached as she watched her best friend, her family, slipping from her hands.

The unmistakable rumble of a Humvee’s engine soared Olivia’s hope to save her friend. Over a rocky sand dune, the beige metal vehicle rode up and made its way towards them. She laughed at the realization that they were her men, coming to save them. 

“Gary…” She began, only to look down and be met with the vacant eyes of her Sergeant staring blankly up into the sky. There were no more shaky breaths leaving from his unmoving lips, his body laid limply, and his hand slipped from hers. “No, no, no.” She stuttered her words, trying to shake him awake.

“Sergeant!” Her men's voices mixed into one another as they called out. She offered no resistance as they hauled her up by her shoulders and hustled her into the back of the Humvee. 

Everything was a clouded haze after that. She had watched as Gary’s lifeless body was slid in the tight space between them. Sloan called out to her from beside her, but Liv’s voice seemed to have gotten trapped in her throat. Someone had closed Gary’s eyes for which Olivia was thankful. At least now she didn’t have to look into his eyes and be met with the disappointment in failing to save his life.

***

Sy paced in front of the gate, glancing at his watch and back to the road. He had been informed at the camp about the situation. His heart was racing, he hated not knowing. He expected the worst, always, but not knowing who was coming back in a body bag had him on edge.

As the whirring blades of the Medevac came into view, so did the vehicles making their way towards the gate. He stepped to the side as the metal barriers were opened, letting the cars enter the compound. Everyone rushed to the injured team; bruised and battered soldiers climbed out of the cars. Sy spotted Sierra who was clutching her bleeding shoulder, two other men drenched in blood being helped to the helicopter. When he saw Olivia stumble out of the back of the Humvee, his heart dropped.

Liv looked like she was walking in a daze. Her arm was covered in blood, soil and sand matted on her face and she limped when she walked. Sy gently placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention to him.

“Liv,” He said cautiously. When her eyes met his they looked lost, distant and far away. 

“I’m okay.” Her brittle voice cut through Sy’s heart. She nudged his hand away from her shoulder and limped her way towards the building where the infirmary was housed, not even glancing behind as the Medevac team lifted off from the ground.

It took Sy hours before he could visit Liv alone. He couldn’t have abandoned his duties as a Captain while people under his wing had been injured and killed. But he kept a tab on her by asking Sloan about her whereabouts. Liv had gotten herself bandaged and had chosen to retire to their quarters. It was late in the evening when he was finally done with calls with his superiors and with briefing the team. 

Sy stood outside the door to the ladies quarter unsure of what lay ahead. He knocked sharply on the wooden door. When he got no response he pushed the door open, hinges protesting the movement as he peered inside the dark room. He glanced at the two empty beds on the opposite side which possibly belonged to Sloan and Sierra. BJ had asked permission to let Sloan stay with him tonight and Sierra was at the base in Baghdad which left Liv alone in the room. He stepped inside tentatively and spotted her on the bed shoved right at the corner of the room.

Liv was hunched over with her wet hair falling over her shoulder, shielding her face from Sy. The sleeve of her t-shirt was rolled up with a white bandage covering her arm, a crimson patch in the middle of it. He closed the door behind him and slowly walked towards her. Droplets of water fell from the ends of her red locks, pooling on the floor next to her feet. 

Sy debated whether he should sit next to her. He understood very well everything she was going through. He had lost buddies in combat; the first time was always the hardest. He wanted to comfort her and make her understand that this is the life they chose for themselves.

“It should have been me.” Her voice was barely audible, little over a whisper. Her hands covered her face with her elbows resting on her knees. “It should have been me, Sy.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” He brought his hand to place on her shoulder, but she flinched away. Sy felt dejected but he withdrew his hand away. “We all signed up for this. We know what there is to lose.”

“I should have been careful. I should have done something to save him.” Her voice trembled as she spoke. 

“Liv,” he started, braving to put his hand on her shoulder yet again only for Olivia to abruptly stand up. Her eyes blazed red, puffy with the tears. Her lips quivered as she stared at him, clutching her arm as the bandage was painted with more blood seeping from the wound.

“Just say it, Sy, say it was my fault.” 

Sy stood up as his hands balled into fists. He wanted to be Liv’s confidant, but she was pushing him away. “It wasn’t.” He replied sternly, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You stop berating yourself. You are a soldier, Liv.” He blamed it on tiredness for he did not mean to sound condescending. He quickly understood his mistake, his face softening as Olivia took a step away from him. “Liv,” he pleaded, extending his hand towards her.

“It should have been me! Gary’s death is on me!” She screamed with fresh tears running down her cheeks. “He has a family. He has…people waiting for him. And I…I-” her shoulder shook as ripples of sobs gripped her. She covered her face with her hands again, shielding herself away from Sy’s eyes.  

This time Sy pulled her against his chest without hesitation. Liv tried prying herself away from him, but he held her strongly against his body. She gave in soon, burying her face in his chest and soaking his shirt with her tears. He ran his hand through her hair soothing her and shushing her.

“There’s no one waiting for me back home. No one to cry if I die.” She mumbled between her sobs, sniffling and gasping with the onslaught of grief. “Gary had a family, Sy. What will… what will I tell his wife?” She grasped at his t-shirt, desperately trying to cling to the last hope of sanity. 

Sy held onto her like she was the most fragile being on this planet. He tightened his arms around her, wanting to shield her from the world and its sadness. He wanted to take away her pain. He would take it upon himself if he could. Sy rocked her lightly, whispering words of comfort as well as he could. He could not comprehend how bruised her soul was to think no one would cry for her if she died. A cold shiver ran down his spine even thinking about it.

After a long time Sy carefully turned her in his arms. She opened her puffy eyes, fluttering them slightly. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” He ushered her towards the bed and gently sat her down.  She laid down on her side, curling up in a ball with her hands wound around her chest. He pulled the thin blanket over her, tucking the ends beneath the mattress. Sy caressed her cheeks with his hand, wiping away the tear stains on her cheek. 

He didn’t want to leave her alone. She was vulnerable and had dropped all her guards down. She was too stubborn to ask for comfort, but he could sense she hankered for his solace. Sy understood under the strong-willed demeanor, Liv wanted to be defenseless. She peered at him with half-lidded eyes without uttering a word. 

Kicking his boots off, Sy climbed on the bed to lie beside Liv. He gathered her in his arms, letting her shelter in the bend of his elbow. He pulled the blanket over their bodies, draping an arm over her torso. He entwined his fingers in Liv’s hair, running his fingers along her scalp. Liv dozed off not a moment later, holding him close to her like she was afraid to let him go. 

Sy kept drifting in and out of sleep with every stir of Liv’s body. She whimpered in her sleep in the middle of the night with the onslaught of nightmares entering her mind. Sy whispered words of comfort in her ears, running his hand soothingly over her back. Sloan had returned at the early hours of dawn looking like she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep either. But when she had spotted Sy cradling Liv against his body, she had excused herself and left them alone again. 

***

It hadn’t been easy for her to cope with the loss of her friend. Olivia had watched with tear filled eyes as they had loaded up Gary’s trunk to be sent to base. She had grazed her fingertips over his name tag sending a silent prayer to where he now rested. It was only when the Humvee had rolled out, Liv had caught sight of Sy watching her from his post.

That night she had felt like her entire being had shattered into a thousand pieces. She had lost loved ones before, but watching someone die in your arms, her best friend, had terrified her. She blamed herself for it. 

If only I could have been alert. If I hadn’t failed to save him. If… 

There were so many ‘ifs’ circling in her mind, she laid awake every night thinking what she could have done otherwise.

Sy had decided to give her some space. He had been quiet and allowed her to heal in her own time. She was grateful for that. She just wasn’t ready to break down in his arms again. She was afraid if she let him get too close to her and if she were to lose him too, she wouldn’t survive. 

It had been fifteen whole days since she had last stepped out into the field. Her leg had been healing, her stitches still fresh, for which Sy had ordered her to stay at camp. She had waddled around the compound, finished paperwork for the men and worked out to release the mixture of anger and sadness bunching up inside her. 

She had thought she would be able to handle it but glancing at the hilltop where she had held her dying friend, had brought everything back to her. Sy had looked at her, his eyes covered with his shades, with his mouth pressed into a thin line. He had accompanied them for their mission to receive the food truck, something he hadn’t done before. She had maintained her distance from him, choosing to stay with her own people. It had felt odd being on the ground when she was used to soaring high above everyone else in her chopper.

Back at the camp, her leg throbbed from walking on the uneven terrain. She winced as her hand grazed over the bandage on her sore calf, still hurting from the gash she had taken from the debris. Olivia took in a sharp breath as waves of nauseating pain crashed against her sleep deprived mind. She sat down on the steps of the building, gently massaging her throbbing muscle to ease the pain.

“You okay?” Sy sat beside her on the steps. Involuntarily she felt herself scooting away from him. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to gain from keeping him at arm’s length. He was being gentle, understanding, sympathetic, everything she needed right now. But something stopped her.

“Yeah. Just a little sore.” She refused to make eye-contact with him. 

Sy seemed to have gotten the message as he scooted a little to the side. From the corner of her eyes Liv noticed Sy let out a sigh, rubbing his beard with his hand. It was weeks ago when she had felt his arms around her, locking her in his embrace, making her feel safer than anyone ever could. 

“Are you sleeping alright?” He asked, adjusting his gun beside him.

“Yeah.”

“Are you telling the truth?” His voice was stern, and he turned slightly to look at her. She knew her words betrayed the reality, the bags under her eyes were evidence of her tired, sleepless nights. But even so, she nodded her head.

Another sigh left his lips. “Liv, I know you want to be strong, but you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m worried about you. I want to be there for you.” Sy reached his hand out and placed it over hers. Giving a gentle squeeze he pleaded, “Just let me in.”

Liv allowed herself to glance at him. His eyes were soft, worry marked with wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. He held sincerity in them, a hope that formed a crack in the wall Liv had built around her. 

“Sy,” They were interrupted by his Lieutenant. “We need you in the office.” 

Sy nodded at them, bringing his gaze back to Liv. He gently smiled at her, bringing his hand to her face. “I’m here for you.” He whispered before standing up and walking inside the building. She watched as he strutted towards his office, talking to his Lieutenant and discussing their matter at hand.

That night, Liv stayed awake in her bed. The chatter outside their room was dying out as midnight approached. Sloan was passed out on her bed; gently snoring while being wrapped in her blanket. Liv glanced at the empty bed that had belonged to Sierra. She had gotten severely injured in the attack. In the days Liv had stayed at the camp, she had a SAT call with her comrade about her corporal. Sierra had been sent home after the surgery she had to endure from the bullet wounds. Liv had been relieved to know she was at least alive.

When the lights cut out at midnight, shrouding the camp in darkness, Liv sat up in her bed. Sy’s words kept ringing in her ears. She didn’t want to push him away. She wanted a safe place. She wanted to feel something other than pain.

And so, she stood, outside his door in the dead of the night. She stared at his door, debating whether she should just return to her bed. She wasn’t even sure if Sy was in his room. With a timid knock, Liv stood with her arms hanging by her side. Her heart picked up a pace as she counted the seconds in her head until the door cracked open.

Sy had a scowl on his face when he opened the door, which eased as soon as he noted Liv standing outside his door. He watched her with a softened gaze as she took a step forward.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Her voice trembled as she spoke. She gulped, fearing he would drive her away.

But he did not push her away. He extended his arm open, tilting his head slightly and a gentle smile on his lips. “Of course.” 

Liv buried her face in his chest wounding her arms around his frame. Sy closed the door, holding her firmly against his body, circling her with his arms. He rested his cheek against her head, letting silence fill in the space that didn’t require words.

Liv could feel it then. Her walls being broken brick by brick by Sy. She felt safe, warmth seeping into her heart as he held her close to him. 

Chapter Eight>

🌟 Series Masterlist 🌟

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens one-shot - “When God Closes a Door, She Opens a Window, But It's Up to You to Find It” (Rated T)

Summary: Crowley goes through unconventional lengths to escape a bad blind date...

... and ends up finding an angel in an unexpected place. (2770 words)

Notes: This is a re-write of an older story, but I think I like this version better. Human au. Fluffy as heck. CW: If you get squicked out by being covered in food trash, proceed with caution.

Read on AO3.

"Bollocks... bollocks... bollocks... bollocks... " Crowley mutters as she paces back and forth, simmering behind her eyeballs with so much anxiety she's about to tear her hair out by the roots. The only plan she can come up with to solve her current dilemma grows hotly in her mind, but she's searching for something - ANYTHING! - to take its place. 

Maybe something along the lines of acting like an adult, womaning up, and admitting this isn’t going to work? Be upfront about it and say it to the man’s face, for Heaven's sake! 'Go on, Crowley!' she thinks. 'Go ahead! One foot in front of the other. Steady on! You can do this!'

But she’s become so tired of the grind – going to bars, faithfully tending her online dating profile, endless blind dates set up by well-meaning friends, the rejecting and the rejections. She can’t face one more. It physically hurts, knots her stomach muscles until the pain turns her world monochromatic.

Crowley had had high hopes for this one, too. Her date Steven is the new doctor of the boy she nannies. He and Crowley have plenty in common – a love of theater and fine dining, and an appreciation for fashion. Crowley thought dating a pediatrician would be fascinating. After summarizing the pertinent details of her own life, perhaps her date would talk about getting through medical school, toss in a few whimsical stories about the joys (quote/unquote) of working with children - baby’s first shots where the parents cried more than the infant, or the tale of a precocious little girl who demanded he put a Band-Aid on her teddy before he helped her (the way Crowley's young charge had with his first doctor when he was around three). They could swap war stories, bond in that way.

But Steven’s favorite part of his profession is pediatric surgery, and, unfortunately, he loves to talk shop. Every morsel of conversation has been inappropriate for dinner and graphic in nature - appendectomy this and tonsillectomy that, abscesses and pus and untreated sores - until Crowley’s face turned as green as her salad and she couldn’t look at her steak anymore.

Neither could their neighbors, who flagged down a passing waiter and requested a new table. They've been sat near the kitchen, which most diners would loathe, but they look heaps happier.

Crowley excused herself as delicately as she could and raced to the loo, needing to escape any more gruesome talk. 

That was over fifteen minutes ago. 

She’s trapped with no way out.

She pictures the layout of the restaurant in her head. There has to be a back way in and out of this place. All restaurants have an exit through the kitchen, right? But the toilet, the kitchen, and the front door are all in full view of their table. Steven is sure to spot her sneaking out no matter how stealthy she is.

Crowley turns on the cold water and splashes her face, scolding herself to think, think, think! She’s an intelligent woman. She can come up with a way out of this. Could she phone someone to come down to the restaurant and make an excuse for her? Not likely, not on short notice. Her friends Anathema and Newt wouldn't be able to find a sitter - ironic, seeing as Crowley is a nanny, and if the tables were turned, she'd be more than willing to lend a hand.

Could she phone her employers, ask Mrs. Dowling to claim an emergency at home? No. She doesn't want to get them tangled up in her personal woes, especially when they concern a man they think of so highly.

She could look up one of those services that make fake calls to your cell phone to get you out of sticky situations, but that would mean going back out there to make the ruse believable. And from the way her hands lock around the lip of the basin every time she thinks about taking a step outside the door, she knows that isn’t happening.

Crowley looks at herself in the mirror, looks into her eyes, and reminds herself to calm down. Slow her breathing. She’ll find a solution. 

And suddenly, there it is. 

In the reflection of the mirror, she sees what might be her only way out.

A window. 

The only window in there, propped open enough that she’d be able to fit through. 

It’s kind of high, sort of narrow, and definitely a last resort. But what other choice does she have?

Loads, in reality. It just doesn't feel like it.

But does she really have to resort to jumping out a window? She’s already been in there for (she checks her watch and her eyes open wide) twenty-five minutes! And her date hasn’t come to check on her once. Maybe the man got the hint and left (hopefully after paying what should be close to a hundred-pound check). 

Crowley tests her luck, opening the door a sliver, praying silently don’t be there, don’t be there, don’t be there...

But there is no God - not one on her side, anyway - because there sits Dr. Steven Malory, talking to the waiter, telling him about another fascinating surgical procedure. He makes an exaggerated cutting motion across his stomach with a butter knife. The poor waiter, weighed down by a tray of soup bowls, nods politely, but looks like he may vomit in the tureen.

She winces. That poor waiter. Who knows how many times he's been called upon to lend an ear since her absence, or how many more times he'll be forced to endure another gory tale before Dr. Malory realizes she's gone. She peeks over her shoulder at the window, then back to the table, where Steven has his phone out, Googling something to the waiter's dismay. She slowly closes the door and backs away.

Window it is.

Crowley shelves the nagging feeling that she's perpetuating the most pathetic trope in the dating world and starts constructing a platform. There’s not much available – a small stepstool underneath the sink; a short, square, plastic rubbish bin that looks less than steady; another taller rubbish bin, dented along one side, looking like someone else already used it to make a break for freedom; and the toilet and basin, both miles away and completely unmovable.

Crowley does some quick engineering in her head and figures that if she turns the small bin over onto the stepstool, she might gain the height she needs to grab the lip of the window and hoist herself up, which would eliminate using the dented bin. She doesn’t like the odds that she won’t slip, fall, and crack her head open. She’s not so much worried about doing any permanent damage, but of having to explain to her date why she’s lying on the floor, covered in trash, and bleeding profusely.

With her luck, he'll giddily insist on stitching up any gashes, drawing a crowd of bystanders around to watch.

Crowley pushes the stool up against the wall with her foot. She dumps the trash from the small bin into its larger counterpart and sets it on the stool, centering it as best she can to keep it from sliding. With a hand on the wall for support, she puts a foot on the bin and attempts to pull herself up. It wobbles back and forth, then gives one backward lurch that nearly sends Crowley flying. 

She determines quickly that this isn’t going to work the way she had planned and makes a desperate leap for the window, using all her upper body strength to get her halfway through.

Crowley shudders when the cold air hits her skin, shocked by the drop in temperature, but mostly from fear of death. She looks down. 

A huge mistake on her part.

A horribly placed streetlamp keeps her from seeing into the alley, but she’s pretty sure she remembers a dumpster underneath this window. She had parked her Bentley in the lot across the way and saw it on the walk in. She looks out into the rows of cars and spots her vehicle. She sighs with relief. 

Now she’s a little more sure, but still not 100%.

Worst case scenario, she lands in food muck, probably not rotten since it’s still actively dinner, and ruins an expensive designer outfit.

Of course, that’s not actually the worst-case scenario, is it? Worst case scenario, she misses the dumpster altogether, hits the pavement, and breaks her leg, but she’s determined to remain optimistic. At this moment, when her anxiety-ridden brain has her convinced that the only logical route out is through this flippin' window, that’s a chance she’s willing to take.

She swings her right leg over, grateful that she chose slacks over a skirt tonight, till she’s straddling the narrow sill, bent in half by the metal lip of the window frame. She balances there, the dull edge digging into her sternum, her belly, and her crotch, but she can’t make herself jump. 

She’ll need to trick herself into it. 

She forces herself to relax, teeter-tottering back and forth, not dwelling on the possible outcome, just trying to work her way to the right far enough that she knocks herself off-kilter.

Fate lends a hand in the form of a drunken passerby yelling, “Oi! Oi, lookie there! There’s a big bird... human... thing hanging out that window!” 

Crowley panics, afraid she's about to be mistaken for someone breaking into a busy restaurant and not out. She fumbles, flails, starts falling head first, scrambles to get a hold. She hears a distant, “No! No, wait!” as her fingers slip. There are three seconds of cold wind and a sinking feeling in her stomach before she lands on her bum, thankfully in the dumpster, surrounded by the smell of not-too-rank food, the squish of something under her body that she thinks might be mashed cauliflower... 

... and a scream.

“Ouch!”

“Oh my God! I’m sorry!” 

Crowley yelps when her body lifts, something extraordinarily strong underneath pushing her up. She reaches around the slippery mess and wet plastic bags, struggling to pull herself off whoever is in the rubbish under her while trying to ignore the gravy seeping into her slacks, or the rice pilaf embedding itself beneath her freshly glossed fingernails. She knows she's broken two at minimum. 

How much worse could this evening get?

“I’m sorry!” Crowley scrambles to her knees, crawls away a few feet. “I’m so, so sorry!” 

“It’s alright, my dear.” A voice underneath her chuckles, its owner emerging from a layer of poached fish and au gratin potatoes.

Crowley turns in time to catch a glimpse as they move into the light. A woman wearing a vintage-inspired emerald gown covered in Hollandaise sauce and ranch dressing smiles sheepishly at her. The white light overhead gives a halo effect to her silvery-blonde hair, and her blue eyes almost glow.

She's quite breathtaking. 

“I thought I had reserved a private dumpster,” she jokes. “I’ll need to have a word with the maître de."

Crowley stares at her, stunned. “I… I don’t understand. What are you doing in here?”

“I suspect I might be here for the same reason as you,” she says, wiping mayonnaise off her hand before offering it to Crowley. “I’m Aziraphale.”

“Crowley. I’m sorry I landed on you.” She takes Aziraphale’s hand, forgetting to wipe hers off before and smushing creamed spinach between them. Crowley groans in embarrassment, but Aziraphale laughs.

“No worries.” Aziraphale doesn't let go immediately the way Crowley thought she would, her smile becoming brighter the longer she holds on. “It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened all evening.”

“So... I take it you’re running away from a bad date, too, huh?” Crowley asks, regretting when Aziraphale finally lets go.

“I'm afraid so.” Aziraphale glances down with a long sigh. “A friend set me up, but I swear, the only men she knows are unemployed, torpid, and skeevy.”

“Wow. That’s some A-plus word usage right there.”

“Yes, well, the written word is my passion."

“Does that mean you're the one who wrecked the silver rubbish bin?"

“Did I?” Aziraphale looks up at the window and grimaces. “I should probably offer to replace that then, shouldn't I? What about you?” Aziraphale turns her soft blue eyes back Crowley's way. “How bad was your date going?”

“I can now perform an appendectomy with my eyes shut.”

“Yikes. I take it that’s not a turn-on for you?”

“Not in the slightest. I appreciate medicine as much as the next gal, but I’d rather not know the gritty details." Crowley stares at Aziraphale until Aziraphale notices, then the two look away, blushing like giggly teenagers flirting in a coffee shop instead of two adults stuck in the trash. Crowley can't help herself. Regardless of the stench of curdled butter and cheese that will probably be with her for life, Aziraphale is a calming presence. And she looks like an angel. An honest-to-God angel! 

And Crowley found her in the trash. 

What are the odds?

“You know, we might want to get out of here before anyone else drops in,” Aziraphale suggests, rising to her feet and lending Crowley a hand.

“Yeah,” Crowley agrees. "Guess that's my night over. Though... " She looks down at her blouse and trousers, positively caked with sweet potatoes, chicken grease, tomato sauce, and chutney "... I’m not looking forward to driving home like this.”

"How far do you have to go?"

"I'm in Mayfair."

"Oh!" Aziraphale gasps. "Isn't that a lovely part of town?"

"I enjoy it," Crowley replies, never having felt quite so proud to live in Mayfair as she does in this moment. "And you?"

"I have a shop in SoHo."

"Lucky. You're just a hop, skip, and a jump, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am... " Aziraphale chews the inside of her cheek as her words hang, balanced in the air between stopping a thought or continuing it. “I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but if you come back to my shop, I have a shower. We could clean up there... " Aziraphale sputters when Crowley's eyebrow arcs sharply upward. "S-separately, of course! A-and order in some pie. I know a great spot nearby. I dare say they have the best pie in the world! And they deliver.”

“I don’t have a change of clothes,” Crowley says, wary of taking Aziraphale up on her invitation. Garbage notwithstanding, meeting her has definitely been an improvement to the way things were going. 

"I might have something that would work for you." Aziraphale sizes Crowley up, but not in a creepy way. In a surprisingly nurturing way. "It would be nice to salvage the evening, don't you think?"

"It would." But one disastrous date is plenty for the night. Should Crowley jump straight to another with a woman she met in a dumpster? Then again, it would be wrong for her to assume that spending time with Aziraphale would be disastrous. Plus the story of how they met is way too fantastic to waste on self-doubt.

Crowley took a chance on jumping out a window with only hope to guide her. She’d be stupid not to take a chance on this.

“Sure,” Crowley says, confident with her decision. “Your car or mine?” The words slip out before she considers the fact that she's talking about her baby. A vintage car that she, due to an extreme case of sheer luck, has been the sole owner of. She won't even wear muddy shoes in her car. Or rayon! On top of her own ruined outfit, which will need to be dry cleaned twice and then set on fire, if she lets Aziraphale in her car, she'll have two sloppy, food-stained seats that she’ll need to have scoured. 

Maybe Aziraphale will laugh her off and offer to take her own car. Why would she want to leave it behind, anyway?

“Oh, I didn't drive,” Aziraphale says, looking down sadly at her own destroyed dress. “I took the bus.”

Crowley's heart clenches. There's that decision made. There's no way she's going to suggest Aziraphale take the bus while Crowley drives her car. She just prays that, with time, her baby will forgive her.

“My car it is then.” Crowley loops her arm covered in soup through Aziraphale’s arm covered in whipped cream and leads the way. Aziraphale smiles, holds Crowley's arm a wee bit tighter, and Crowley becomes certain this new development will be worth the money she'll spend detailing her car in the morning.