#I got the sudden urge to paint today

[lucky-fydraws]

FREEDOM

Process pictures under read more

[xveenusx]

And Yet..

Paring(s): jj maybank x fem!reader

Summary: two people who should be together simply can't find their way. In other words, JJ can't let himself be loved and can't let her go.

Author's note: This one is brutal so prepare yourselves. Realistically, JJ would totally self sabotage any chance of happiness because he can't handle how it makes him feel so that's exactly what this is. Thank you for all the feedback on 3 seconds! If you like when it hurts, then this is for you!

Part 1: Three Seconds

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He left.

It’d been hours and none of us knew where JJ went, only that he left. While JJ storming off was a normal feat, he always came back.

Now normally, I would have been looking for him, knowing exactly where to look. I’d find him and we’d avoid everyone until he felt like he was ready. This time was different. He never looked at me the way he did today.

A look of pure betrayal.

John B had gone MIA with Sarah while Pope and Kie were handling everything we needed to look for the gold. Me? I was trying to find a way to cope with the sudden JJ sized gap in my life.

It was brutal trying to get through the entire day without collapsing. Everything felt dull. I decided going home and hiding out in my room was the only option. It spared me the looks of concern from our friends and gave me the freedom to cry.

My room felt abnormally empty and cold. My stomach rolled as JJ’s words played in a brutal loop. I crawled into my bed where I curled into myself tightly, hugging my knees to my chest to create some type of pressure.

He’ll come back. He always comes back.

I jolted awake to pounding on my window.

“-wake up. He needs you. It’s bad oh my god it’s really bad.”

Scrambling off the bed, I pushed the curtains aside to see Kie’s panicked face. “Kie, what’s going on?”

Her face filled with relief as she pulled me into her. “We need to get to the chateau now. He’s not making any sense and bought all of this stuff.”

Nausea rolled in my stomach.

“JJ-“

She cuts me off. “He needs you.”

I left the house in seconds, hopped into the Hayward truck and we took off. I nibbled on my nails, glancing at Kiara in the drivers seat. Her face was painted with worry and her leg bopped up and down displaying her nervous energy.

Kie moved one hand from the steering wheel and threaded our hands together, squeezing tightly.

Pulling up to the chateau, I see LED lights tangled up on the trees, shining lights reflecting on the yard. How was there power? The hurricane had taken everything out.

Before I could figure it out, I heard a commotion that drifted up the drive way.

“Where is she? You said Kie was getting her.”

My heart jumped to my throat. I hold onto Kiara tighter as we move toward the raised voices.

Something twisted in my chest as I took in the hot tub and lights suddenly decorating John B’s yard.

JJ is shouting at Pope now, slurring his words slightly, before taking a pull of the champagne he clutched in his hand.

“Look man, she’s here. She’s here, JJ. Calm down.” Pope announced, pointing in our direction, before placing his hands around his head and taking a deep breath.

Awareness ran through me. JJ turned his body to face me, his gaze flicked to mine.

He said nothing yet his eyes said everything. There was an openness that seemed to make him vulnerable.

“You came.”

A tug deep in my chest urged me to move closer. “You asked.”

“Okay, now that she’s here. What did you do, JJ? Where did all this come from?” Pope asked, but we all knew the answer.

“I got a jet going straight in my butt right now. Y’all should get in immediately, ya hear?” JJ laughed, the aviator sunglasses slipping down slightly. His blonde hair slick with water stuck to his forehead as he messily poured champagne into a glass. “Salud!”

Pope let out a noise of disbelief, “How much did this cost?”

“Uh, pretty much all of it.”

I moved around, taking in the inflatable floaties that filled up the yard, while biting the inside of my cheek. He spent all of the money.

“Kie, what? Can’t a man have a little luxury in life?”

I tuned out their arguing. There was a reason he acted out and bought all of this pointless shit but I couldn’t figure out what it was. He knew. He knew he needed to pay for restitution.

A blanket of dread covered my body like an old blanket as the consequences of JJ’s actions finally settled in. Another sense of dread hit when I knew I wouldn’t leave him.

“You could have paid for restitution or better yet, helped us buy supplies.” Pope said, shaking his head in clear frustration.

They weren’t seeing this for what it was. Something was wrong. Yes, he was reckless and rash but like I said before, most of the time he does those things because something happened.

“Okay Pope. Well, I didn’t do that. I got a hot tub for my friends,” JJ choked out, “I got a hot tub for my friends. Screw that, I got a hot tub for my family.”

“JJ, what the hell?” Kie whispered.

Something in her voice made me turn back around quickly and that’s when I saw it.

JJ stood at the center of the hot tub, one hand clutching the champagne bottle while the other hung loosely at his side. His gold necklace moving back and forth shining under the lights, but that��s not what caught my eye.

What caught my eye was the purple and blue bruises that littered his chest and ribs. A high pitched ringing filled my ears as my body felt like it began to float.

This. This was the reason he spent all the money.

My hand covers my mouth as I let out a choked sound.

Hearing the noise, JJ turns to me, his face entirely shattered, tears causing the crystal blue orbs to shine.

“Do you see what I did? Look what I did for you,” He cried out as he held out his arms, staring at me with such vulnerability I could feel my knees start to buckle.

Tears freely began to fall from my face as I took inventory of just how many bruises covered his body.

“No, stop being so emotional. It’s fine, everything’s fine.”

My feet moved on their own accord. Fully dressed, I threw one leg over then the other ignoring the burning from the heat of the water.

He reached for me the moment my body hit the water just as my arms circled around his neck. JJ curled his body into me, the champagne bottle forgotten, his arms circling around my waist digging into my lower back, clutching me like a life line.

My legs knocked together as the adrenaline and helplessness kicked in. I began counting in my head my breaths because I knew in this moment, I couldn’t afford to break down.

Not when he was broken beyond belief.

My fingers threaded themselves into his sun-kissed locks, brushing from the nape of his neck to the top of his head and back again. I pressed my lips onto his head, not letting my grip loosen for one second.

“I love you.” I murmured over and over again as sobs wracked his body, his head in my chest soaking my shirt with his tears. “I got you, it’s okay. I’m here, Jayj.”

I glanced up helplessly and see Pope and Kie staring at us, both of them clearly distraught.

I beckon them over with a nod in my head and instantly JJ and I are covered in warmth. Their arms wrapping around us both, whispering words of love to him.

We stayed like that until our skin got pruny, not wanting to move until he was ready.

When the time did come, I could tell by the way his grip on my waist loosened and his sobs quieted down. Brushing the hair out of his face, I brought my face close to his, “You ready to get out now?”

JJ nodded.

“Kie, can you set out some of John b’s clothes?” I asked her, moving to get out. She nodded and pope followed her inside.

JJ followed closely behind me. His fingers laced with mine, trembling slightly as the night air bit at our soaked bodies.

Shuffling into the chateau, our friends were sprawled out on the couch with Kie strumming away at the ukulele.

“I left the clothes in the spare.” Pope said, his eyes locked on JJ.

I shot him a thankful smile, “Thanks, Pope.”

Once we were in the room, I shut the door as JJ shimmed out of his shorts. Ignoring the heat in my cheeks, I grabbed the towel from the bed and began to dry him.

I could feel his intense gaze on my face the entire time. Biting back a smile, I whispered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Please.”

“I really like the hot tub.”

JJ tilted his head back and let out a surprised laugh. The sound of his familiar laugh caused a wave of warmth to crash over me, causing a zoo of butterflies to swarm my stomach.

“It is a pretty sick tub, isn’t it?” He smiled.

“It is. Very kooky of you.”

He narrowed his red rimmed eyes at me, “Take that back.”

I couldn’t have his my grin even if I tried.

“JJ the kook? I could see that.”

He sends me a cheeky smile in return. Bringing my attention back to the task at hand, I drag the towel along his shoulders before heading towards his chest. My hand stalled slightly as I saw how angry the bruises were, the hue of the purple and blue causing my stomach to churn.

My head moved carefully as I pressed my lips softly along each bruise, fluttering my eyes shut. I feel familiar rough hands tangling themselves in my hair and he lets out a sharp breath.

Opening my eyes, he tilted my head back with his fingers gripped the nape of my neck. A storm brewed in the crystal blue eyes, flicking between every emotion.

His thumb slowly drew my bottom lip down causing his eyes to darken with each passing second,” Thank you.”

Tremors wracked my body at how close we were, our breaths intertwined filtering into my bloodstream.

JJ shifted forward allowing his lips to softly brush mine. The moment my lips parted, he pressed his again almost like he was inhaling my every breath.

Pulling back, he rested his forehead on mine and repeated, “Thank you.”

“I got you. I’ll let you change-“ My words got cut off as he grabbed my arm to stop me in my tracks.

“Stay.”

And so I did.

_______________

I blinked at the alarm clock that read 3 a.m and slowly rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes. I could hear the sound of the skeeters buzzing outside the chateau and felt a strange sense of calm at the quiet.

Reaching toward the other side of the bed , my hands were met with empty cold sheets. He was gone.

I closed my eyes tightly and took in a deep breath as I willed for this nightmare to go away. We still had a lot to work through, but I thought after last night, he finally understood how fucking in deep I was. I was all in, completely and utterly in love with him. It’s always been him.

Pushing my body up, I slowly bring the sheet up to my chest covering my naked body from the cold. A sharp tinge of fear hit my chest as I noticed a presence at the end of the bed that was quickly replaced with an immense sense of relief.

JJ sat on the edge of the bed with his bare back facing me, his elbows on his knees, and head in his hands. A small smile played my lips as I shuffled over, my hands slowly trailing themselves over his shoulders and pressed my lips softly against his shoulder blade.

“Can’t sleep?”

His shoulders tensed the minute my lips touched his body. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

Confusion filled every fiber of my being as I finally took him in. I could feel the weak stitches that held my heart together suddenly begin to tear.

I opened my mouth and closed it. The backs of my eyes burned as I stared at the side of his face, the face that I spent hours admiring, that refused to even look at me.

“I thought after last night-“

JJ shook his head in disgust and let out a dry breath, roughly tugging at the messy strands on his head.

“We fucked. It’s not like that’s something we’ve never done before. It doesn’t change anything.”

Like I said before, I understand him. I know him and I know exactly what he’s doing. That doesn’t stop every part of me from feeling like I had just gotten kicked in the chest.

“JJ, please don’t do this.” I inhaled a shaky breath as I clutched the sheer tighter to my chest, almost like it was an armor against his cruel words, words that I knew came from a place of panic. Yet, it hurt just the same.

“Do what,” JJ said, getting up from the bed to face me, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “You made it clear what side you were on and it wasn’t mine.”

“Stop twisting what happened. You forget that I know you, JJ. I know you,” I stood on my shaky feet, the sheets wrapped around my body. “You think I dont know why your treating me this way. You’re dad doesn’t decide who you are.”

Desperation burned in my blood as I once again tried to grasp at straws. He was always finding excuses to run from me and each and every time, JJ took a piece of me with him.

“Shut up. I’m not doing this shit with you.”

“You have no idea how special you are do you? How easy you are to love?” It was an honest question, one that seemed to anger him if the clenching of his fists was any indication.

“Stop-“

I cut him off. “Because you are. Special, I mean.”

JJ said nothing. His gaze met mine, and the blue eyes I thought matched the ocean perfectly, showed a battle of emotions.

I took the opportunity to move closer to him, fighting the urge to curl up and cry at the look of utter confusion on his face.

Luke had successfully beat it into him that he was worthless, useless, and would never amount to anything. This, this look on his face was why I stayed.

He didn’t know. He really didn’t know the effect he had on people, on me.

My fingers trembled slightly as I reached to touch the bracelets that decorated his wrist. All of them being gifts from me.

“You’re fiercely loyal to the people you love. The family that you chose for yourself. It’s almost frustrating how you don’t see it,” I muttered, tilting my head up to search his eyes. “I mean, fuck JJ, you took the fall for Pope because you didn’t want his future to be ruined. You went to jail and now you’re on probation.”

“Please, stop.” His plead was weak at best.

My fingers danced along his jaw, my voice wavering slightly at the tightness in my chest. “You sat with my everyday during summer school so I wouldn’t be myself. No one does that, JJ. Especially not here.”

He had to know I was telling the truth.

“So please, listen to me when I tell you that loving you has been the easy thing I’ve ever done.”

Despite the immense beating my poor heart has taken, it still beats with a naive sense of hope.

Hope that sky rocketed when JJ reached forward to twirl a strand of my hair in between his fingers, almost as though he was memorizing how it felt.

“Such pretty little words.” He hummed. “How many other guys have you told that too?”

I recoiled back in shock.

“Pretty little words won’t get you anywhere. You wanna fuck, I’m down. But that’s not gonna stop me from mackin’ on other chicks.”

Then he dropped the strand of my hair, along with every hope that he could love me.

I chose to then focus on my anger that slowly began to bubble to the surface.

“Like who? Your gonna start mackin’ on Kie?” I launched the question at him, my voice raising an octave in disbelief.

“Maybe. At least she knows when to leave.”

“Stop talking to me like that,” My voice broke at the end, the burning in my eyes getting too hard to ignore. “You’re hurting me.”

All I could do was stare.

Here I stood, heart bleeding, begging a broken boy to love me back. And maybe that wasn’t fair for me to ask, maybe it was too much but a large part of me thought he felt something. Even if it was a fraction of what I felt for him because at least it was something.

Anything.

“You’re never going to let me love you, are you?” I ignored the sharp stab in my stomach as I finally said the question I already knew the answer to.

JJ’s head snapped up in shock at my question. “I never asked for you to love me.”

“You showed up to my window every night because you didn’t want to go home. You hold my hand, you kiss me, you fuck me. You come to me when you can’t fucking sleep. You sleep in my bed. You teach me to surf and take me everywhere with you. You ask for my advice and god forbid I don’t answer the phone, you have a melt down.” I was shouting at that point, my voice loud enough to wake up our friends who were sleeping in the living room but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“You need me, I’m there. You got arrested, I bail you out. You get in a fight, I clean you up. JJ, you showed up in my life and surrounded me. You’re fucking everywhere. How could you not expect me to fall in love with you when you do these things?”

The laugh I let out was one of a broken girl, one who had completely lost herself in a wave of chaos known as JJ Maybank.

The door was right there. And yet, I couldn't get my feet to move.

“Because I don’t fucking understand it, okay? Because I’ve never had the luxury of someone looking at me the way you do and it makes me physically fucking sick.” JJ took several strides until he was pressed up firmly against me, his fingers threading themselves into the nape of my neck.

“The way you look at me makes me feel like I’m suffocating, don’t you get that? And yet, I can’t fucking thinking straight when you’re not by me.” He choked out, his face was white with panic.

I could feel myself start to crumble at his words. Welcome to the club. “Yesterday, you said I wasn't enough for you.”

JJ nodded, his eyes staring straight into me with such intensity I had to swallow.

“You know why I said it. You know how I get. The way you look at me,” He swears pounding his hand against the wall,” Fuck the way you look at me. You make me feel like I can be a better person, that I have the potential to do something great.”

“Because you can-“

“No I fucking can’t. You give me this hope that I can be better and then something happens to remind me that I can’t and it crushes me. It fucking wrecks me.”

I roughly wiped the tears that blurred my vision and asked, “So what are you saying?”

The silence caused the anticipation of his answer to intensify, making breathing almost impossible.

“Sometimes, being with you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Can you hear that? It’s the sound of my heart shattering for the last time.

“Then you have to let me go.”

He shook his head,”Thats not what I want.”

“Let me go, JJ. If not for you, then for me because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. You haven’t even been able to say it back. You completely own me, every thought I have is about you.”

“You own ME.” JJ shouted, his hands in his hair tugging it in anger. “And it completely terrifies me and then I say the first thing I can to make the fear go away just so I can get a moment of peace. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

In a way, I couldn’t really be angry with him.

No one’s every really described just how dangerous loving someone can be. How they consume every part of you until there’s nothing left. Until suddenly, you can only breathe when you’re around them. When your very mood depends on the expression of their face. The pure feeling of ecstasy that covers your body in a layer of electricity the moment you’re around them and they look at you.

“You love me,” At my words, JJ looked almost relieved, like he finally understood why he felt so many things at once,” but you can’t let yourself love me.”

And yet, despite this revelation, I still couldn’t bring myself to leave.

A tortured look passed his face as he pressed his back against the wall and slowly slid down.

“You need to let me go because I love you to the point that I cant bring myself to leave. So if you don’t want me, if you can’t be with me then do this for me. If you don’t, I’m going to keep giving you every piece of me until there’s nothing left. “

I guess you never truly understand until it happens. Until you get physically ill when they’re upset or filled with warmth when you see them tilt their head back and laugh. When you see them and suddenly the world is just a little less overwhelming, bearable even.

When every fiber of your being is tuned into one person.

Gripping the sheet tighter, I moved in between his legs and settle myself on the floor. The moment I did, JJ engulfed me in his embrace. His presence soaked through my skin leaving the intoxicated feeling in its wake.

“I can’t,” He shook his head fervently, “ I can’t do that.”

I understood him, because I couldn’t either.

“What are we going to do, Jayj?”

JJ pressed his face against my throat, “I don’t know.”

We weren’t okay, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Nothing had been solved and yet, we sat on the floor wrapped in each others embrace.

So I said the only thing I knew to be true and give him yet another piece of me, “I love you.”

“I know.”

There we were. Two souls irrevocably intertwined in a mass of love and hate that were broken beyond recognition. Neither of us being able to leave the other.

And yet, all I could focus on was his inability to say he loved me back.

_____________________

Tags for all those who requested: @trickylittlewitch @maybankslover @bcon24 @chaoticbisous @ifilwtmfc @dullsocietyy @mad-die45 @stuffyownswrld @kaylinfayezink @theywantedplayer

[georgiapeach30513]

Two Good Reasons, Part 9

Summary: the one with Audrey's birthday

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: mature and emotional

Warnings:  Scott Huffman, language, depictions of anaphylactic shock, mentions of divorce, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7.7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Ugh,” you groan, tossing another pair of pants on the bed before stomping into the closet. Frustratingly roaming through your clothes. You’re pissed off. No, you’re in a very irritable mood because things have already not gone your way.

First thing this morning it was Scott asking for you to pick the kids up an hour earlier. Which is fine, but he could have said something last night. Hell, he could have just brought them by the house and let them stay here, so you could have a lazy day with them. In their home. Comfortable. But no! He wanted to be a difficult little bitch.

And then it was the sudden urge to pee. And pee again, but that time almost not making it. Then you burned the bacon and now your house smells like shit. And then! Then your newly painted fingernails — one broke. You just wanted a lazy good morning. And Now too many pants are not buttoning. And you’re frustrated, irritable, and in a not great mood.

Happiness is making you gain weight, and you really didn’t want to buy more clothes. But you wanted to remain happy. And in love. And, “What are you looking at?” Your words come out a bit harsher than you intended, and you regret the tone immediately, “I’m sorry.”

“Doe, what’s wrong?” You point over towards the bed, and Andy gives it an odd look. “You’re getting rid of some very nice jeans?”

“No,” you frown as you just reach for some fucking leggings. You weren’t going to try on and fail to button another pair. Not in front of Mr. Perfect Body. Good lord, his body is magnificent. Especially when it’s moving inside yours. You hadn’t gained that much weight. You’re probably just bloated. It’s all water weight. “We’re eating out too much.”

“Once a week?”

“We’re — we’re just — ugh! When I’m happy I tend to cook and bake more, and the result is the jeans not being able to button. So starting today, I’m not going to be snacking as much. And no matter what you say, I won’t be getting one more bite of cake,” that is that. Little changes could make the biggest difference.

“I don’t think…”

“Andy Barber, I know I’m getting older, and my metabolism isn't as quick as it used to be, so I don’t need to hear your excuses,” you bend over to roll the leggings up your legs. It’s fine. You feel fine. You didn’t even care because Andy didn’t seem to mind, and you are so very happy. Leggings and an oversized sweatshirt sound like heaven on a day like today.

“That’s not what I was going to say. I just think you should…”

“We’re going to add some more volume foods. I’ve just got to stop with the extra slice of bread,” he shakes his head no as he smiles and walks towards you, “And I’m going to quit napping so much. I want us to go on a walk every day with the kids. We can take the stroller if they get tired. But I need more movement in my life. If you can go swimming every morning, then I can walk every evening, but I don’t want to walk alone.”

“Honey,” Andy holds his hand over your mouth, using his piercing blue eyes to stare at you in the most intense way that it almost makes you uncomfortable. “Can I speak?” you nod your head once, and Andy exhales slowly, “Will you take a pregnancy test for me?”

You shake your head while rolling your eyes, “Why?” His hand drops off your mouth, and you try and find the words to tell him it's just an impossibility, and not what either of you should be thinking about right now. You need a house to make a home. You wanted out of this house, and divorced before ever truly thinking about pregnancy. At least when you’re not in the moment of getting your back blown out. Andy had that ability. He starts fucking into you, and you want him him to fuck a baby in you.

“Because the likelihood of me ever carrying a child naturally is very slim to none and we’re just not ready for that.”

“Why not?” How is he so good? He’s not even arguing. He is having a conversation, and trying to understand.

“Because I’m still legally Mrs. Scott Huffman,” you retch. Why did you ever marry that buffoon? The only good thing he ever did for you was give you the most beautiful children. “And I want our own home.”

“And I have watched my cum leak out of you before I’m fingering back inside of you. It’s not a lack of trying. And look at the pants,” your eyes flare as you stare at him. “I’m just saying, what if you’re pregnant?”

“I’m not. I’ve had two kids already, I would know,” he nods his head, figuring that you are right because you were the expert in this situation. “And I just,” could your mood swings be pregnancy? You haven’t had a proper period since splitting with Scott. Stress always makes your cycle wonky. “No. Okay, I’m just not. It’s fine. I want to drink more water, I want to walk as a family, I want to change my diet, and I’ll be just fine, okay?”

“Honey, you’re right,” you gawk at him. Did he just admit to knowing you’ve gained weight? “I would like to start walking as a family, too. We always talk with the kids when we get home anyways, so why not talk and walk.”

“Good save, Andrew.”

“Wasn’t trying to save anything, Doe. I’m being honest,” you’re sure he was just trying to ease you off a ledge of emotions that you weren’t ready to dive into. You’re trying to keep your head above the water until the divorce. Until the custody hearing, and you know that you get more time with the kids than Scott does. You want them with you. Scott wants them with him as leverage. Sick bastard.

“Mama!” Suede rushes to your arms as you walk into the apartment. The apartment that isn’t baby proof at all since Taylor moved in. Ooh, you wonder how many times she’s had to tell Suede no, or hands off. Aesthetically everything here is very pleasing, and all of her Instagram followers agree. So much white. Perfect color for a toddler around.

Suede clings to your body, burying his face in your chest. He isn't scared, but you know the separation from you just sets him on edge. This divorce is causing so much unnecessary mental trauma for your children. But staying with Scott would have caused more. In order to have happy children, you need to be happy, “Did you guys have fun? Oh.”

Taylor finally makes her way into the living room with a giant box of Christmas decorations. You know because the box is very aptly labeled as such in the most perfect script writing. Ms. Perfect probably did that herself. “Where’s the cat?”

She shoots you an aggravated look as she opens the box. Scott sits on the couch rolling his eyes, but remains glued to whatever game is on television. Audrey’s bathroom break is taking a bit longer than usual. “She is at my mom’s since Suede has a little issue with her,” the stupid bitch rolls her eyes again, and you’re biting your tongue to remain centered and calm. Pickups and drop offs have started to upset your daughter’s stomach, so you remain cordial for her.

“Yeah, it sucks that cat dander just really makes breathing difficult for him,” he looks towards the box, and oohs at the ornaments that Taylor pulls out of there. Little boys always want things they shouldn’t have, and telling them no makes them want it more. She’s a fucking idiot.

“No!” Not only do you take a step back, and hold Suede tighter, but you also make the most annoyed face in the world, Andy steps in front of you. His natural role of protector queuing up, “No, I told you that you don’t touch my things,” you shoot a glance towards Scott, wondering if he really thought that ‘her things’ were appropriate around your kids. Scott can fuck off. They weren’t his kids. They were a product of his sperm.

“I have had to deal with him all weekend. I tried decorating their room, and he just wants to help, and he puts the ornaments in the wrong space. And I went in there, and he messed it up again.”

“Well, he is two,” you shrug. You take back every nice thing you ever said about Taylor, she’s a bitch, and number two on your eat shit list. “The tree in their playroom at home was there for them to mess up, or hide the ornaments as they pleased. They’re kids. Nothing is perfect with them around.”

“Yeah, and it looks like shit,” her voice is clipped, and you wonder if she’s ever used that tone with your sweet boy. Over something stupid, and it wasn’t perfect for her.

“Taylor, enough,” she huffs before spinning on her heels and stomping out of the room. You’ve seen your daughter do that a few times, and she’s almost five. “God, you see what you did. She’s been fighting with Suede all weekend.”

“Fighting with a two year old?” Andy asks before you can even respond. That was a perfect response. He’s just as protective of them as he is of you.

“She’s trying to make things look nice for the holidays. It’s a nice change compared to your need to wait until after Thanksgiving,” deep breath in. Deep breath out. You will kill him one day. “And don’t make a big deal out of this. Suede had a good time, didn’t you, buddy?” Suede shrugs, and keeps his face buried in your chest. But his hand slowly moves up to your cheek where his cute little hand starts to pet you. A slow and painful death will take Scott out of this world.

“I really don’t want a fight. But I do need to tell you that we’re taking the kids to Michigan for Thanksgiving,” that’s one way to tell him.

“Over my dead body. You don’t get to tell me where you’re taking them. I have to approve. Suede can’t handle a flight. How are you going to keep him occupied?” Suede can’t handle a flight. What would he even know what Suede could handle?

“My parents haven’t seen their grandchildren in a year. They miss them, and the kids miss them.”

Scott gives you an eat shit grin. You’re glad that Andy lets you deal with him as much as possible, choosing the best possible time to jump in, “Like he even remembers your parents,” a very slow and painful death.

You laugh, “They FaceTime the kids every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday. Buddy, you want to go get your backpack? Make sure your iPad is in there, okay?”

“Chess,” he walks wide, staying out of his father’s grasp, but of course Scott doesn’t see that. Doesn’t see the odd quirks Suede has in order to avoid him.

“The damn iPads. Why are you spending so much money on them? That’s not what my support is for,” what is the best way to get away with murder?

“It was actually my assistant district attorney that bought those for them. Ransom is quite fond of the kids, and I’m sure it’ll help Audi practice her courtroom homework.”

Scott blinks slowly twice, and you step in front of Andy only for him to cross back in front of you, “Do you have a problem with how I raise my daughter? Mine. I had to fuck her mom for her. That’s right, I fucked your girlfriend. They will never be yours.”

“Mommy?” Everyone turns towards Audrey. Her tears shimmer in the light as she looks only at you. Her lip quivers a moment, and you know you have just a few seconds to get her out of the audience of others before she starts to cry uncontrollably, “Mommy, my belly doesn’t feel good.”

“Come on, baby. Let’s get yours and Suedey’s things and go home,” Scott starts to say something, and you point your finger at him, shaking your head, “That’s enough,” and he doesn’t want to, but he keeps his fucking mouth shut.

“I’m getting a bit tired of you, Barber,” Andy cocks an eyebrow up. He isn’t going to say a word. You asked him not to when you left with Audrey and Suede. “She is a goddamn genius, and she needs to start now! She’s got an interview with the best school in the district, and I need her prepared.”

“They don’t usually test kindergarteners on how many people are in the jury box, Scotty.”

“You really are a prick, you know that?” Andy shrugs, keeping his sight more down the hall where the kids’ room was. If he looks at Scott, the control he’s proud to keep in check will diminish, and he won’t do anything to jeopardize your custody, “Just remember who…”

“I got it, your sperm made the kids. You won’t ever let me live that one down, and I’m man enough to not let it bother me. But can I give you some advice?”

“Parental advice from someone who isn’t a parent. This should be excellent,” Andy wonders what you ever saw in this tiny little man. Surely he wasn’t always this much of an asshole.

Scott leans back, and smiles up at Andy. Andy never turns his attention to Scott. He just wants to see you emerge from the hall with the kids, “I may not be the reason those kids are here, but I pay attention. I know that Audi gets an upset stomach when she knows that you and her mom are going to be around each other. She’s internalizing her anxiety. I know that Suede when he sees his mom he just wants to hold onto her, and he doesn’t even want to look at you. Doesn’t care much to spend any time with me when they reunite, it’s all about his mom. You may not be physically harming your kids, but the mental distraught you’re causing them will have lasting effects. Your soon to be ex-wife is being too kind to you, and only because she thinks that it will make the transition with her kids easier. I think both you and Taylor know that. I think Taylor’s care for those kids is dwindling. She’s becoming what she should be, a kid that is solely focused on herself. She’s using your money to give her some sort of fulfillment. She plays the role of a good step mom only to her instagram followers, and to her parents, but deep down they resent you because you have children, you're legally still married, and you’re so older than her.”

“Get out of my fucking house.”

Andy slowly blinks, and nods, “That’s my goal,” ignoring Scott, he heads down the hallway. He gives Audrey the biggest smile before the little girl rushes into his arms. “You ready to go, mademoiselle?”

“Yes,” looking at her mom, she giggles. “Are you?”

“I am,” picking up Suede, you follow Andy out of the bedroom, and Scott clears his throat. You just want to get back home, so you can cuddle and love on your babies. It looks like they need extra attention.

“I want to speak to her privately,” Andy slightly shakes his head no, but you hand Suede over to him. And wait until the door to the apartment closes before you cross your arms, and jut your hip out, “I don’t want your boyfriend back here.”

“You don’t get to make those calls. Is that all?”

“You’re making a mistake,” of all the stupid nonsensical things he could say. “I am trying to be kind to you.”

“Kind? What about you is trying to be kind? Saying that I won’t lose my baby weight? Saying I’m used up, and old? Maybe it’s the cruelty you show our children? Or maybe it’s because our court hearing is soon, and you’re scared shitless? I bet that’s what it is,” of course it’s what it is. After the hearing he knows that he won’t be able to hold things over your head. In fact, he probably knows how much you have against him, and his precious Taylor.

“You let him raise our children,” you scoff. He really didn’t want to go there with you. Of course Andy is raising the kids, but he’s doing so with you as his partner. Just how it’s intended to be, “I don’t know what it is you want me to do.”

“I don’t know what it is you want me to do. Andy is a good man. Andy is present in my kids’ lives. He comes home to us every night. He helps around the house, he spends time with them, he is a good role model. And he’s a great man. What is your deal with Andy?”

“He’s a cocky asshole,” Scott had no room to talk. Andy was confident. Scott was arrogant.

“I figured the two of you would get along then,” he rolls his eyes, starting to stand up and walk towards the kitchen. “Is the real problem that I moved on?”

“I thought you would always be there for me,” he’s joking. This fool is seriously joking. How does one move on from seeing the babysitter bounce on top of your husband’s cock, and one you didn’t even particularly like? “Did you think I actually wanted to be here in this small apartment away from my family? I made a mistake, and you won’t give me any time to plead for forgiveness. You moved on to the fucking DA. You knew what you were doing, and it was just to piss me off. We were going to — I’m pissed off because I thought we would eventually work things out,” you hear a bedroom door slam shut before Taylor stomps out of the apartment, and slams the front door. “See what you did?”

“This has been an exhilarating conversation, Scott. But you did that. I had no intentions of getting back with you, nor you me. If you could admit that you did what you did because you thought you would get away with it, and you thought we’d get back together, and you could have your perfect family, while fucking the perfect body, we’d be better off. I don’t want you. I think it’s been many years since I have wanted you. And that is the only thing I’ll ever apologize to you for. I hung on for too long for our kids, but the man that I have always wanted, I now have. Send us the details to Audi’s party, and go fix your girlfriend if you want to keep her.”

“Can you stop calling her that?” You furrow your brows, not fully understanding what he was getting at. “Her name is Audrey. Suede’s name is Suede. Not Suedey, not buddy. Quit babying them,” okay. You need to leave before you say something you truly regret. He wasn’t going to tell you what you should or should not call your children. “I don’t want them to be in Michigan for the holiday.”

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” he obviously had something planned with them if he didn’t want you and Andy to take them to see your parents.

Scott looks in the distance, refusing to answer, mumbling something before, “I’m taking Taylor to Cancun,” he’s serious. He wants you to stay here while he takes his trophy girlfriend to Cancun. You hope all the men there can’t stop staring at Taylor who is always seeking validation from other men. You hope Scott feels as little as he makes you feel.

“And we’re going back to my parents’, Scott. Have a good day,” he can groan and complain all he wants to. If he can take his pretty little girlfriend on vacation, you’re going back to Michigan, and spending time with your family. You would almost have reconsidered, if he was going to be here. If he wanted to spend time with the kids, you would have stayed behind. He wasn’t going to bully you. He wasn’t going to tell you what your kids could do, or what Suede was capable of.

You’ll give him a backpack with plenty of snacks and toys, and Scott Huffman could fuck off. You’re not sure what has come over you concerning him, but you’re done. You don’t care about his feelings or Taylor’s. You don’t care to make sure if they’re comfortable. You just didn’t care.

You huff as you get into the car, and bend your hand backwards for Audrey to hold. Andy doesn’t say anything, he just puts the car into drive. You let your mind wander a bit. Not even about Scott, you didn’t care anymore. You wander to a moment when you, Andy, and your kids didn’t have to deal with that anymore. A moment where you will wake up and everyone you love is under the same roof always. It may be a dream in the future, but you have no doubt that eventually Scott will give you full custody. He truly was using your babies as leverage, and that pisses you off more than the fact he thought shoving his cock in some young whore could ever be forgivable.

But with a gentle squeeze from Audrey, you remember that all the pain of seeing him with Taylor was worth it. You don’t care how long he was sleeping with Taylor. You don’t care if he had any feelings for her then or even now. The only thing you remotely cared about is if your children saw them being romantic in any capacity. Scott and Taylor could eat rocks for all you cared. You just hope your children never saw them fucking.

Your mind focuses on the road in front of you, and you look over to Andy confused. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way home,” this is the complete opposite of home, and Andy’s smile guarantees he’s up to something. “Andy!”

Audrey giggles in the background. Her chubby little hand removes from yours, and she covers her mouth, while Suede grabs both his now shoeless feet as he smiles at you, “Ho, NaNa.”

“Did my baby just call you a ho, Andy Barber?”

“No,” the speed of the car gets slower as he turns onto a small road. “He said, home,” your heart beats rapidly as you see a beautiful house come into view, surrounded by so much land. All this space, and you gasp as you look at him. “Well, we all have to agree,” Andy puts the car into park. Holding up his hand, he lets a single key on a key ring dangle from his finger. “Shall we go look at it?”

Your mouth spreads into the widest grin as you nod your head. Jumping out of the car to get Audrey out of her seat, and Andy grabs Suede. Holding onto your shoeless monster, while everyone runs to the front door squealing. “It’s a bit large. But Linda Drysdale found it. It’s not officially been listed, but the asking price is just too good. There is enough for Suede and Audrey to have their own room, and then — some. Full size and finished basement for a play area, and,” opening up the door he sets Suede down, and both kids dart past you screaming as they run through a mostly empty house. “The master bedroom is phenomenal. There’s a great pantry. Garage. We’d be secluded, so the kids can have space to play and have swings.”

He keeps talking, but you’re just taking everything in. It’s perfect. Right down to the color scheme. It’s almost textbook the house that you and Andy talked about getting when you were silly kids in love looking through Pinterest. The space. The way that your kids are just giggling and laughing. The way that this actually feels like home. More of a home than whatever you and Scott attempted to make.

“Doe?” You spin around to face Andy, but he’s lower on the floor. Audrey leans up against him, while Suede is standing in between his arms, and your ring up in Andy’s hand. It wasn’t just a normal ring. It was the ring. The one that you and him jokingly went shopping for when he was eighteen and you were seventeen. A ring you knew he could never afford, but it was fun to pretend. It still was the perfect ring, and even prettier than you remembered.

“Honey, will you marry me?”

“Chess, mama!”

“Mommy, say yes! Andy asked for permission.”

Oh god. He asked your babies for their permission. This ridiculous man remembered everything. All of it. He is too perfect with your babies surrounding him. Letting them be just as much a part of this proposal as him. Because they are always in the equation. He thought of everything. “Mommy!”

“Yes. Yes!” You drop down to your knees with him. Crowding Suede and Audrey as you try to find his lips. Sealing everything with a kiss. “Give me two good reasons.”

“I can start with three,” Andy whispers against your lips. “Audrey, Suede, and you,” he’s too precious for words. Sometimes it isn’t about the time lost that made the difference, it’s the time now. You spent too many years trying to recreate Andy. But in those years away from him you both did some growing up. But the thing that remained was a true undying love for this man, and your family.

“Mama, we ho!”

“Yes, buddy. We’re home,” you can’t even see properly with the tears that cloud your eyes. First a home. A place to set down your roots. Your forever home with Andy. And then what he’s promised since you were seventeen. That he was going to marry you.

“Mommy! I want the bedroom with the princess window.”

“Me, too. Me oom!” Both kids spring towards the stairs again.

“Don’t run, guys,” Andy says calmly, and they immediately walk instead. They listen to him so well, “Shall we check out the rooms they picked out?”

“Andy, this is too much.”

“No, it’s priced to sell. Linda got us a great deal, and your name will be on the deed as well. If you love this house as much as me and the kids, it’s ours. What do you say?”

You look down to your left hand smiling. It was a stupid morning made right with the most perfect thing you could think of. “Let’s check out our new home,” you answer. Pulling at your fiancé’s arm as you walk towards the stairs. “What about the inspection?”

“Everything is perfect. There’s a little bit more that needs to be done in the basement. But other than that, it’s fully functional. Wires, plumbing, electricity, they all are perfect. After you, my love. I think Audrey and Suede have found their rooms. And there’s plenty more to grow,” plenty more to grow. You like the sound of that.

“What is all this shit?” Audrey’s smile fades quickly as she looks at her father, and Taylor drops her hand. “She’s five years old, it isn’t even that big of a deal,” Taylor marches into the kitchen laying another bag onto the counter, “Audrey, go in the bedroom, and take a nap with Suede. It took him forever to go to sleep.”

“I don’t take naps.”

“Audrey!”

Frowning Audrey stomps her food, “I didn’t even want a birthday party anyways!” Before stomping off into her shared bedroom with Suede, and Scott grabs his head growling. Her outbursts need to stop. They are getting out of control because he can’t give her whatever she wants like you and Andy.

”She was excited about today, and you had to open your big mouth! These are the goody bags that you said you liked. So this is what I ordered,” her movements in the kitchen are harsh, and loud, and it grates on Scott’s everlasting nerves. First his daughter’s temper tantrum, and now her.

“You’ve been in such a pissy mood ever since…”

“I heard you tell your wife that you wanted to get back together,” Taylor interrupts. She knows he’s going to have some line that differs from what she knew. What she actually heard him say. It hurt her. Especially since Scott wasn’t even the perfect catch himself. He had baggage for one. But he was amazing in bed. And then the allowance started.

She didn’t want to be a mom. Every other weekend is fine. But he claims to want more time. She knows he doesn’t want more time with his kids. It’s his need for power. A power she sometimes feeds off of. She used to feed off it all the time. His power was addicting. The men her age didn’t have that. They didn’t have the money or smarts either.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” because that makes her feel better. When the kids aren’t here he’s a different man. They stressed him out because they couldn’t be controlled. Especially not Suede. When he’s awake he is nonstop moving and playing. Always asking questions you couldn’t understand, always getting in your face, always needing attention, always needing help to go to the bathroom. Everything that Scott wasn’t willing to give because it wasn’t his job.

It’s not her fucking job either. They’re his kids. And while they’re cute, it’s annoying that he didn’t want to help at all. She didn’t even know if she wanted kids. She had no desire to remove her IUD, or even tell him about it. Making a mistake on something she felt was more temporary isn’t part of her plan. Not that any of this was. He was cute, and he gave her attention, and that’s as far as her vision went.

“That’s not really how I feel,” it is just easier to ignore Scott’s words. He’d always talk himself into a corner anyways. “She just infuriates me so much. You don’t see the way she prances around with her new boy toy.”

“Fiancé,” she tells him, continuing to move about just so she doesn’t have to look at him.

“Excuse me?” The vitriol in his voice pisses her off. He had no right to be pissed off that she was engaged. Taylor would fuck Andy, too, if given the chance.

“Do you ever listen to your kids?” Scott shrugs. Of course he didn't listen to them, why should he? Usually they were someone else’s problem. And as of late they were her problem, and she couldn’t even do the fun things with Audrey because Suede had to be there, and he was limited. Scott didn’t like having Suede alone either. But today. Audrey was going to have the best birthday. She doesn’t know why his mom couldn’t have withheld him from the party for a couple of hours. She would be selfish like that. Audrey deserves to have the best party without the limitations her brother’s allergies set.

It’s the reason why she wanted their mom to be there so hopefully Suede would beg to go home, like he always did. And she could play dress up with Audrey. Maybe get manis and pedis. She likes Audrey. Suede she didn’t connect with, and she’s sure he doesn’t much care for her either. “Suede and Audrey both told you they got engaged. Audrey even said they’re moving into a new house.”

“What?” His jaw unhooks, and she knows that he has been emasculated again by Andy. “What do you mean they got a new house?”

“NaNa mama ho,” Taylor answers, annoyed, and Scott shakes his head confused, “Andy bought his mama a home. And Audrey clarified it by saying she has a room with lots of windows, and it’s her princess room.”

“Audrey doesn’t like princesses. Audrey likes the law. She lives in reality.”

“OH MY GOD!” Taylor screams agitated. “She’s a child. She is just five years old. Audrey’s likes to do what other normal five year olds do, and that includes princesses.”

“Audrey!” Taylor rolls her eyes, and starts to pack up the things from the house. Her and Audrey can go to the event center early to set up, and Scott can bring Suede later. She’s already annoyed at him. “Audrey Elise Huffman, come here right now!”

Pompous asshole. Audrey comes into the room, now wearing her Madeline dress and Mary Janes that her mom bought for her for the party. The hat in her hand, and her right foot fiddles around a bit, while she struggles to not grimace at her father. “You guys moved?”

“No. No, not yet,” Scott doesn’t see, but Suede lingers in the hallway. Probably peeing on himself since he won’t ask to go to the bathroom. “Um, Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy…”

“Breathe, Audi,” Taylor says softly, and the little girl takes a deep breath, but her father asserts his authority by putting his hands on his hips. “Go on.”

“We take some things there everyday. But we still sleep at home. D-Andy had someone paint my pri — my room,” of course she would change what she called her room. She’s in front of her father. But she told Taylor that her bedroom was a soft pink.

“What’s your favorite thing to play?” Scott asks, thinking he’s going to trick her.

“Bocks.”

“Suede, I wasn’t talking to you,” Audrey furrows her brow, and holds out a hand for her brother, but he growls, and turns to go back where he came from. Taylor knows that none of those kids apart from their last name belong to Scott. “Audrey?”

“I like to draw. And do adding,” Taylor wonders if Scott ever took the time to look at Audrey’s sketch books to see in between every drawing of a courtroom was unicorns, or mushrooms with faces. “Are Andy and Mommy coming today?”

“Chess. Andy, mama. Me ho!” He makes a bunch of loud noises in his bedroom, and Taylor bites her tongue because that means she has another mess to clean.

“Ugh,” Scott groans. He needs a nap. “Yeah, Suede get dressed,” a two year old get dressed by himself. Yeah, Taylor already sees where this is going, and walks away from Scott and to the kids room to get Suede dressed. Accessories are all they are to him. If she were to be asked, she’d tell the court that their mom deserved them. One day with the kids was enough for Taylor, but even their father couldn’t stand to truly be around them for more than an hour. It’s why he always left. Or why he made an excuse to be in his office. Why he came home late. She’s biding her time until after she goes on vacation. She never could have afforded it alone.

“They rented this for a five year old?” Ransom asks. It was a bit ostentatious for a child’s birthday party. I’m sure that Taylor’s Instagram will look fabulous today.

“They had to have the space for the bounce houses,” Ransom looks in the backseat at you. Sweet angel child, this is how Scott would have your children grow up, lacking a sense of child wonderment. “They’re these blow up things, and you can bounce and hop on them. Andy, I did get Suede’s inhaler, right?”

“Yep,” he could exert so much energy on those things, you hope that he was breathing okay. Or even that the adults were paying attention to how his lungs are working. “Doe, we’re not that late. You said you didn’t want to intrude on their birthday party.”

Being late didn’t even bother you. The less time you spend around him the better off you are, “I just can’t help but,” you didn’t want to say it, but something felt off. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut, and you’re trying to ignore it. But it is screaming. Blaring inside of your heart. “Andy, something’s wrong.”

He shakes his head no, but the moment the car is in the spot, you jump out of the car. Trying to remain calm, but your skin is crawling. Every hair on your body is prickled up, and all you hear is laughing and music. Your chest heaves as you walk towards the entrance, with Andy and Ransom jogging on your heels.

Going in the building you scan everywhere. Your smiling girl gives you a wave from one of the bounce houses, but no Suede. There is too much noise. Too many people. Too many kids. Too much going on. Scott sits with a group of men, and Taylor’s bouncing around like an idiot on the slide with the group of men watching her. Pigs. Everyone is accounted for. But…

”Andy, where’s Suede?” He goes off one way, while Ransom goes another, and you walk into the belly of the too many people like a wild woman. Your head whips back and forth as the bad feeling festers deeper in your bones. You want to vomit. Where’s your baby?

This isn’t right. There’s something wrong. He stays with Audrey, and none of those kids were him. Who were all these fucking kids? Who were all these men? Your throat is so dry. Fear doesn’t creep up, it swallows you whole. Taking every last bit of breath from your body. You didn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him. He always sees you first.

“Suede!” Nononononononononono. “Suedey! Baby, no!” The roar of the event center changes as you scoop up your baby from the floor. “Fucking macarons. There’s eggs in here. Oh my god. Andy! Oh my god, he’s not breathing!”

You can’t even hold your hand steady as you try to get the EpiPen out of your bag. “He’s not breathing. No no no,” the color of his skin is all wrong, and tinged purple. How long has he been here? My god you hate them. Hate both of them. You asked for one fucking thing.

You jab the pen into his leg, and open up his mouth. Scooping out the bit of cookie he couldn’t swallow. “Suedey, baby, mommy’s here. Come on, baby,” Ransom is already on the phone with 911, and you can’t focus on anything but the blurry baby in your arms. Your tears stain your cheeks, and make it impossible to see properly, “Suede! Suede, mommy needs you to take a breath.”

He’s so cold. He is too small, and doesn’t seem right. This is supposed to be a fun day. It could have been. Keep allergens away from Suede. That’s how you prevent this. “Suede, buddy, breathe for mommy,” holding a hand over his chest, you can’t think, you just do, and lay him on the floor to breathe for him.

“Mommy!” You want to comfort her, but you can’t. Suede needs oxygen. You took his allergies seriously, and learned everything there was to know in case of an emergency. “Mommy, he’s not dying,” Ransom scoops Audrey up in his arms, walking away with her kicking and screaming. He knows you don’t have time to deal with her comfort right now.

There are times you have to pick and choose your children, and right now Suede wasn’t conscious. Beat by beat. Pressure by pressure, you keep filling his lungs with oxygen, while you press onto his chest. Sounds that a mother should never experience inhabit your body as his chest cracks, but you just want air to move into his body.

“Come on, baby. Mommy loves you and she needs you,” come on. Take a breath. You need to see that he is capable. You can’t give up hope. It may be the swelling of his throat constricting his breathing. But the EpiPen will do what it needs to do. You have faith. He is okay.

It isn’t a breath as much as it is a gurgled cry, but it’s enough to see his skin starting to change back. “There you go, baby,” his blood shot eyes open up, and he stares at you so confused, and hurting. “Hey, Suedey. Mommy’s here. I’m right here, baby.”

He moves his mouth with no sound coming out, but you don’t care. He’s alert enough to see you. He looks around at everyone crowding him, but he’s back to you in a second. You pet along his face, crying and smiling, unable to focus or breathe yourself. Exhaustion overcomes you, but your baby is breathing.

“You son of a bitch!” You can’t even process that Andy is screaming, you just see this sweet little boy who is so scared and confused. “One fucking thing! She asked you one goddamn thing and that was that he could have everything here! That was it. You and your child of a girlfriend are deadbeats. You could have killed him!”

“Hey, baby,” you coo at him. Keeping him focused on you and not the fight that’s ensuing behind you.

“Mama,” his voice hurts so much, but it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. “Mama,” he’s okay. He’s not perfectly fine, but he’s okay.

”I know buddy. We have to wait for the ambulance. You and mommy are going on a ride.”

“My daddy,” his eyes circle around, looking for his father.

“He’s,” a piece of shit. He will never have your son with him alone ever again. You didn’t care if he ever saw Suede ever again. He didn’t deserve his son. His son meant nothing to him. He allowed those stupid cookies here, and couldn’t keep an eye on him.

“NaNa my daddy,” you wipe the tears and snot off your face. Andy can be his daddy. Scott didn’t deserve it. “My daddy NaNa.”

“Andy,” your voice is a croak, and he won’t hear it over his berating of Scott, but you didn’t have the energy to even try. “Andy.”

“You’re a sorry piece of shit, Scott, and you’re fucking idiot,” he defeatedly says as he walks over to you. “Suedey, buddy, you scared us,” this took ten years off of your life.

“Daddy. My daddy,” Andy looks over towards you, and you just nod your head. “Tong.”

“Yes, buddy, you’re so strong. Those sirens are for you. I’m going to check on Audi, okay?”

“Otay,” his little hand tries to give him a thumbs up, and Andy kisses your temple. He gives Suede a thumbs up back, as he stands up, ready to get Audrey.

“I’ll — you want me to bring Audi to the hospital?” No. She’s traumatized enough as it is. “Ransom said he can take her to his grandpa’s for a few hours.”

“Okay,” it’s the bad thing about not having friends here. But Ransom is a start. Didn’t hesitate to do what needed to be done. He took care of it all, while a part of you died inside. You have no feelings towards Scott, he’s dead to you. You struggled to ask for sole custody, but you aren’t struggling anymore.

You hear him saying your name, but ignore him. You are numb to him. That man has done the worst things to you, but purposefully being negligent to your child is unforgivable.

“He’s had an EpiPen?” You nod your head to the paramedic, and Suede squeezes your hand a bit tighter. “You ready to go for a ride? We’re going to make sure everything is okay.”

“Me tong,” Suede whispers out, and you finally smile.

“You’re the strongest little buddy I know,” and he is. You’ve never seen a two year old be as resilient as him. The way he is trying to smile despite whatever his little body is screaming. You know he’s in pain. Know that he’s hurting so bad, but he’s okay. Scott says your name again, and you don’t even look.

“Ma’am, is that your husband?”

“No, I’m not married. I’m engaged to…”

“My daddy. Mine,” Suede taps his chest, and you want to hold him and squeeze him. It might be a long way in the distance, but it is something Andy has hinted at. He’d adopt your kids. It’d be a process, but it’d get Scott out of child support. It would take the responsibility off his shoulders, and Andy would take it all. You don’t want a conversation. You want Scott to disappear, and let you and your kids move on with a man that loves and enjoys all of you.

They lift Suede up on the gurney, and he reaches for your hand, looking more scared now than before. “They’re not taking you from me, baby.”

“Doe, I’ll meet you at the hospital, honey,” you collapse in Andy’s embrace. Trying to absorb his strength before you get into the ambulance with Suede.

“My daddy,” you step up into the ambulance with him.

“Yeah, buddy, I’m your daddy,” Suede smiles at Andy before the doors are closed. And Andy walks towards the car.

“Barber!”

“Scott, how long was he out?” Scott shakes his head. The bastard didn’t even know. “I’m going to say this as nice as I know how, but you’re a sorry piece of shit. You didn’t care about Suede, and that proves it! You let that girl bring fucking eggs in the party, and you as the parent didn’t watch to see if he was getting into it. Do you believe he has allergies now? My fiance had to breathe life back into her baby! She saved our son’s life.”

“He’s my son!”

“By blood. That’s all you have. He’s my son by choice. His choice and mine. Suede could have died, and you’re too busy trying to have a pissing contest with me. I’m going to the hospital to comfort my fiance and son, and we’re going to pick up my daughter, and we’re going to go home,” Scott growls, showing more emotion with the mention of Audrey being Andy’s daughter than Suede’s.

“You’re an insufferable asshole that plays favorites. Don’t call. Don’t text. We’ll see you in court,” Andy slings his door open before he gets in. He meant what he said. That was it. Andy would make sure that the law was thrown at Scott. Because of his negligence Suede nearly lost his life. He’s finished playing nice. Fuck Scott Huffman.

Today, Andy Barber is a father.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @hisredheadedgoddess28

[livwritessometimes]

A Footnote Will Do...(For Me)

: Charles Leclerc x Reader

: So I'll just take a footnote in your life

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note: I had no plans of writing this but I got this sudden urge to write some angst.....so Tada!

…

You ate at a restaurant, the host said we're cute They think we're a couple, they bought us some booze We shared the Moscato and laughed 'cause it's true To me (to me)

The air was filled with the rich aroma of spices coming from all sorts of Italian cuisines. There was a different kind of calm in the atmosphere, which was quite contrary to what the next few days had in store. It was finally time for the Italian Grand Prix, Ferrari's home race, and a very special day for the Monegasque walking besides Y/n.

Charles Leclerc, the golden boy for Ferrari, the pride and joy of Monaco, but to her, he was simply the boy she met through his younger brother. The boy Y/n was madly in love with.

People say that love comes into your life when you least expect it to. It comes in various shapes and forms: a hug from your mother when you see her after a long time; catching up with your best friend after a stressful day at work; seeing your father gloat about you to his friends. But no one told Y/n that for her, love would enter her life in a blazing red suit and a super-fast car. 

Walking down a relatively empty street in Italy, Y/n felt content. Next to her was the boy of her dreams, going on and on about how an old lady earlier today had told him he reminded her of her son and gave him a free muffin. Chuckling at the Monegasque's excitement over a baked good, Y/n took a moment to take in the young boy's appearance. He was wearing a loose-fitting shirt, some pants and a pair of sunglasses tucked in front of his shirt, nothing extraordinary, but it felt right. He offered Y/n his hand, signaling her that they had finally reached their destination.

A beautiful restaurant hidden in the streets of Italy. Covered in greenery, the place looked like it came straight out of a painting. At the entrance, an older woman with kind eyes greeted them, smiling at the pair. She offered them one of the tables that were laid out in front of the restaurant. It was almost as if the lady knew what Y/n would have liked, as she had given them a table right next to the window. It was the perfect spot to get a glimpse of the inside of the restaurant while enjoying the serene view that surrounded them.

Thanking her, Y/n and Charles gave her their order. As soon as she was out of their site, the boy in front of her began to tell another story of how he got locked in the bathroom during one of Ferrari's meetings and how it took the entire team 2 hours to get the poor boy out. It seemed like Charles had a way of finding himself in all sorts of weird and bizarre situations. It reminds her of the first time they met. 

It was Arthur's birthday, and Y/n was on her way to his party when she saw a man standing on the side of the road, asking for a ride. Y/n could see the dark clouds slowly engulfing the once clear patch of sky and decided to take pity on the man. Stopping right next to him, she got to know that the strange man was none other than the birthday boy's older brother. It seemed like fate to her; what were the odds of something like this happening? Offering him a ride, both of them began the journey back to Arthur's (and Charles') house. Y/n has had first-hand experience with these bizarre situations, because not even 10 minutes after they began their journey, it started pouring down heavily, blocking any sort of visibility there was, causing them to stop the car. So Y/n and Charles spent the next, god knows how many hours, of Arthur's birthday sitting in the car chatting away. It was also the first time Y/n felt seen, truly seen.

Focusing back on Charles' story, she noticed the lady from earlier approaching them with a bottle of wine. "For the lovely couple," she said as she poured a glass each for Charles and her. "You both look cute together; I hope you stay happy for a long time," and with that, she went back inside the restaurant. Bringing up his glass to her, Charles whispered, "Cheers to the couple, I guess." Letting out a laugh, the pair shared the bottle of wine and continued their conversation. What Charles didn't realize was how fast Y/n's heart was beating after the woman's comment, because for her, it was the truth.

You said at the party that I was too drunk I told you I liked you, you said, "Sober up" But why would I lie? It's so clear I'm in love With you

The bright lights were almost blinding, and the entire club was filled with red. Everywhere you'd look, you'll see a member of the Ferrari team celebrate their hearts out. Charles had won the Italian Grand Prix; finally, all the doubts and worries that flooded the Monegasque's mind were put to ease. He won his home race in Monaco and has now won Ferrari's home race. Y/n and Charles were here to celebrate, and celebrating is exactly what they did. Bottles after bottles, everyone was drunk beyond their minds, Y/n especially. It was as if she could not contain the joy that filled her mind seeing Charles stand at the top of the podium. After a long night of partying, the club was slowly dying down. Most of the team members had booked a cab and left the venue; some were passed out on the couch with a content expression on their faces, and the rest were still on the dance floor. 

That is where Charles found Y/n. Upon seeing the boy, Y/n pulled him closer to her, and the boy instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her movements. "I think you've celebrated more than me at this point," said Charles while looking down at Y/n with a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, of course, someone has to, Grand Prix Winner," Y/n said, smiling up and looking back at Charles. "Let's get you some water. It'll help you stay hydrated," he said as he began walking towards one of the sofas with his arms still around Y/n. "I think you've had one too many drinks-" Cutting him off, Y/n blurted out, "I like you." Slowly looking up to see Charles' face to see any sort of reaction from him, he said, "I think you should sober up now," and without saying another word, he began to walk towards the exit with a very drunk Y/n, who was now very aware of everything happening around her.

She was completely in her senses when Charles helped her get in the passenger seat or when he leaned over from across the driver's seat to help her with the seatbelt. The boy was so close to her that even after hours of partying, she could still catch the faint scent of his perfume. For the entire trip, Charles refused to look her in the eye, not when he helped her out of the car, or when he took off her heels, or even when he tucked her in the bed. Just as he was about to leave, Y/n reached out and grabbed a hold of his wrist. "Would you stay with me till I fall asleep?" She could see the hesitation in his eyes. "Please," she said, looking up at his face, and for the first time since her abrupt confession, he looked back at her to meet her eyes. Nodding slightly, Charles sat down at the foot of the bed, and true to his words, he stayed there till Y/n dozed off.

A tense conversation, you like someone else I say, "If I waited, could that maybe help?" You told me that patience won't change how you felt For me

If Y/n thought last night was worse, then she was in for a huge surprise. The morning after was one of the worst mornings for Y/n. She woke up with a splitting headache, dazed and disoriented from last nights events, until it all came rushing back to her. Her drunken confession, Charles' behavioral change towards her. Getting out of the bed she walked towards the kitchen where she saw Charles nursing a cup of coffee in his hand looking at something on his phone. Upon hearing movement, he looked up from his phone, putting it aside he kept another cup of coffee in front of her saying "I made some for you as well, I know you'll be needing it." He smiled at her before continuing, "How's the headache?" He questioned. "I've had better days," Y/n said before taking the cup of coffee and thanking the Monegasque.

"So about last night…" Charles started, and there it was, the dreadful moment Y/n was hoping to avoid. "…I had no idea you felt that way," Charles said before looking at her. "Y/n, I'm actually seeing someone…for a while now," and with those 9 words, Charles had shattered Y/n's heart into pieces. Y/n could not believe it; they were perfect; everyone could see it. So why is it that the boy she was madly in love with could not see how good they both were together? "I'm really sorry, Y/nn, but I don't feel that way about you," Charles said with a genuine look behind his eyes. In a desperate effort to hold onto this idea Y/n had created about the both of them, she said, "If I waited, would that help? Would that change things?" The hole in her heart grew bigger and bigger with each passing second that Charles didn't answer. Letting out a sigh, he said. "Y/n, even if you waited, it's not gonna change how I feel about you. I'm sorry, but I've always seen you as a great friend," Charles said, and with that gone was the future of them together; empty was the house they were supposed to move into after a few years of dating; dead was the flower garden they both would have spent hours trying to maintain; forgotten were the children they would have eventually had; lost was the life they would have shared.

So I'll stop being pretentious and loathing our friendship You taught me a lesson, that feelings are reckless It's just like the novels, side characters end up alone

It is observed that friendships that start because someone expresses a romantic interest tend to take on a different meaning once the feelings involved in the situation are gone. Empty, distant, and disregarded, that is what Y/n felt. Ever since Charles told her that he did not reciprocate her feelings, something inside Y/n died. Gone was the girl who always paid attention to Charles, who, even in a room full of people, always had one eye on him. Gone was the girl who tried to impress the boy she was in love with. Instead, she started to loathe the fragments that were left of their friendship. They no longer met up. No longer did they have their phone calls that lasted for hours on end. 

True to his words, Charles was in fact seeing someone; someone he officially announced his relationship with 2 weeks after their fallout, or at least that is what Y/n likes to call that morning in Italy. Charles taught Y/n what love actually was and how beautiful the feeling can be. Charles is also the person who taught her how reckless feelings can actually be. It's messy and complicated. It's the girl not getting the guy; it's the golden boy meeting his girl next door. It's just like the novels, where the side character always ends up alone, forgotten somewhere in the background of the main character's story.

So I'll just take a footnote in your life And you could take my body Every line I would write for you But a footnote will do A footnote will do

Standing at the Ferrari garage, Y/n could feel everyone's excitement. Charles had won yet another Grand Prix. Everyone rushed out of the garage, heading towards the barrier to celebrate with him, Y/n could see Charles getting out of his car and running to where she was standing. He was just a few metres away from them when he opened his arms and started running towards them. Y/n almost thought he was coming over to hug her, but just as she was about to let her imagination get the best of her, reality came crashing down on her again. Charles leaped into the arms of his girlfriend, the same girl next door she lost him to. The girl who has a polite smile and a kind heart. The girl who he now shares a puppy with. It reminded Y/n of her place in his life; no longer was she a priority for him. She was merely a footnote in his life now; gone was the time where she would have been a chapter or few in his books, but for her, he had been the entire story; the start, the middle, and the end. 

Every line she wrote, she wrote for him, but now all she can afford is a footnote in his life. 

But a footnote will do. A footnote will do for her.

[starbleye]

sculpted

Megumi has always been good with his hands, just not his emotions. Until now. (cw: smut; wc: 2200)

Megumi knew his hands like the back of, well, his hands. Art had always been a part of him from a very young age. Finger paints turned into oils on canvas, sidewalk chalk became charcoal sketches. Most importantly, mud pies turned into clay sculptures. If there was one form of art that Megumi was drawn to most, it was pottery. 

The minute he came into contact with those dollar store modeling clay kits, he knew he wanted to hold on to it for the rest of his life. He dedicated years of his life, starting with throwing together simple shapes and dishes manipulated by hand. As time went on, his hands became more dexterous in fashioning the clay to match his vision. Delicate yet firm touches to the clay allowed Megumi to craft his imagination into the tangible world. He dedicated himself to his art, he worshiped his talent.

Until you came along.

Unwavering, unshakeable Megumi was rocked when you first entered his life. For the longest time, he believed he was content with his solitude, abhorrent to unnecessary connections that could only bring him pain. He only trusted the porcelain of his heart to be held in his own hands, yet he craved for your soft arms to carry the weight of his fragility. 

You were always the source of light in a room from the way you carried yourself. You were sound with who you were and rooted in where you stood, drawing the energy towards yourself with a subtle hand. You lifted Megumi out of his self-induced confinement, but you never pushed or shoved him more than he could take. He could never understand how a person like you could even stand to be around a person like himself; cold, apathetic, protected. 

Yet you never looked at him in pity. Instead you saw Megumi as a young kid who was thrust into a life he wasn't ready for and commended his attempts to open up, as small as they were.

But Megumi knew he stood no chance at having you. His desire to have you all to himself was one sided, but he would rather wallow in his craving to have you in his arms rather than scare you away with his feelings.

"How long have you been throwing that?" you asked, shaking Megumi from his thoughts. He looked up at your curious eyes before looking back at the clay on his wheel, smooth as can be. Not as smooth as her skin, he thought to himself.

"Long enough, I guess," he replied, solemnly. The only reason Megumi was in the studio today was to get his mind off you and the date that you were supposed to be on. As fate would have it, your date stood you up and Megumi's studio was the first place you turned to in order to let it all out.

He sat in silence at the wheel, twisting and contorting some sort of vase that widened and narrowed to his heart's desire. All the while, you ranted about your latest trials in love, condemning each and every man Megumi knew wasn't good enough for you. "That's the last time I ever go on a blind date," you finally sighed, relaxing your weight against a table.

He continued to sit silently, overflowing with the urge to hold you tenderly and prove himself better than any other person who dared look in your direction. "Do you have anything to say?" you asked, fishing for any advice or consolation from your dear friend.

"I need to wash my hands," was all Megumi said as he slammed a fist into the misshapen vase out of frustration. Wordlessly, he got up and headed to the sink, tryin oh so hard not to focus on the perfect pout you gave him. How he wanted to run his fingers against your soft lips, to let his own lips memorize the feeling and taste of them. Shaking his head to rid himself of such thoughts, Megumi did his best to thoroughly scrub the clay out of his hands. All the while, a sudden fire lit inside his core, spreading through the rest of his body despite his attempts to quell it.

He turned back around to find you observing the sculptures on his shelf. One had caught your eye; the bust Megumi had created to resemble his mother. Lithely, he slipped behind your frame, maintaining a friendly distance but close enough for either you or himself to close it.

You sensed his presence behind you and, without turning around, said, "This is beautiful, is that your mother?" He nodded. "Makes sense, you have her eyes..." you trailed off, suddenly feeling Megumi become dangerously close. Risking it, you turned around to come face to face with those blue eyes, clouded with an emotion you had never seen before.

Megumi's throat dried up as he attempted to rasp out your name. "Please..." was the last thing he could muster before he closed the gap, hovering his lips inches from yours. He could feel the warmth radiating off your cheeks as he waited for you to reciprocate.

A second passed as you tried not to reel from the shock, but your body moved before your mind could understand as your hands intertwined into his obsidian hair. 

A noise escaped Megumi's mouth as years of pining escaped his body in that kiss. Tenderly, he felt your soft lips moving against his, tasting faintly of cherries. His own hands moved from his sides to the space between your hip and waist, fitting perfectly. 

Mindful of the delicate pottery behind you, Megumi began to guide your body towards the closest and cleanest table. Not once did he take his lips off yours, only opening his eyes briefly to make sure no one would get hurt. When your body hit the edge of the table, you let out a small gasp as Megumi's strong hands lifted you up effortlessly. 

Still, his eyes remained forcefully closed. "Megumi, look at me," you said, pulling away from the kiss.

"I can't, I'm dreaming," he murmured, tilting his head down to stop anything from breaking this fantasy come true.

A hearty giggle came from your chest as your hand cupped his chin, then his cheeks, before gently coaxing his eyes to open. "You aren't dreaming," you assured him, leaning in again and leaving a trail of kisses across his jaw to his neck. His core was close to yours and you both could tell the other was definitely real. 

Your own throat started to feel dry in a way you had never experienced before and your hands trailed to the hem of your shirt. "Is this okay?" you asked, starting to wrap your legs around Megumi's waist.

A look of desperation crossed Megumi's face as he let out a hastened "yes" and brought his hands under your shirt as you began to lift it up. Never had you heard a man moan as tenderly as he had when his eyes fell on your breasts.

And never had Megumi felt or seen skin as beautiful and real as yours. With a careful hand, his fingers traced the span of your abdomen, taking in the full sight of you. "Oh, god. I'm touching an angel," he breathed out. He continued his hands upward to your bra, unhooking it skillfully and immediately laying his hands on your nipples.

With skillful digits, he rolled the flesh of your breasts as if he were shaping clay. Megumi was already committing the feeling to memory so he could use it when he was alone. "More," you let out quietly, not entirely embarrassed but definitely flustered at being held so well by your best friend.

Abiding by your orders, Megumi tilted his head towards one of your nipples and used his tongue to stimulate them, causing a satisfied groan to release from your chest. You had already started moving yourself against him, so Megumi moved his hands to your hips to start a rhythm. He also began to roll his hips against yours to increase the feeling.

Still, he needed more. Looking at you with an approving gaze, you nodded as Megumi began to undo the button and zipper of your pants and quickly discarded them. "You're so wet," he said in almost a question, amazed that his touch caused you to react in such a way. His hand made a path to your core, pushing aside your panties and stopping at your clit to start rubbing it. 

Megumi seemed to know how these things worked as he applied firm pressure here and there, changing direction and movement depending on your reaction. He watched your chest heave as you breathed deeply to keep your grounding. Your hands were grasping for anything to keep your head tied to your body. Instinctively, your legs started to close from the attention, but Megumi's powerful hand held your thighs apart as he began to slip a finger into your cunt.

"Megumi!" you cried, the pleasure building. He looked up at you, the cloudy emotion from earlier finally being pinpointed as carnal desire. His finger stroked your insides as if he knew it by heart. Almost instantly, he found the place where you were most sensitive.

For every moan and groan and praise you let out, Megumi responded with the same if not more. You could feel yourself starting to approach your orgasm and you leaned up to hold onto his shoulders, digging your nails into the skin. Megumi could feel you tighten around his fingers and let out a moan, imagining how it would feel to have you tighten and come all over his cock. 

Without warning, he sped up his leisurely pace to bring you even closer. You started to cry out his name in warning when he suddenly pulled himself away. At first you were confused as to the abrupt distance, but your confusion was answered as Megumi began to strip himself of his own clothing. 

Quickly, you ran to your purse and grabbed the fresh condom you had put there earlier. Megumi hadn't fully taken off his pants or boxers before you pushed him into a nearby chair. He obliged to your taking of control, whimpering when your smooth hands came into contact with his searing cock. You pumped him a couple of times before slipping the condom on, earning a stuttered moan with each pull.

"I need you. So bad, please," Megumi murmured, eyes lilting in your direction. Wasting no time, you slowly began to sink onto his lap, your breath catching in your throat as you stretched around him. 

Megumi was not faring too well, hands flying to your hips the minute your cunt enveloped his tip. Trying to practice his self-restraint, he gripped your hips to stop himself from shoving his whole length into you. If he thought clay was his life, you had officially changed that. 

You continued to sink onto his length, Megumi noting that your pussy was more malleable than the clay that sat rejected. Finally, you had taken him to the hilt, both of you letting out euphoric moans. "You're so big," you sighed, looking down at where you two were connected.

Megumi couldn't take his eyes off the angel that was now seated on his lap. The sheen that had accumulated on your skin had you basking in an ethereal glow and he could've sworn you sprouted wings that fluttered so delicately. The moment you two connected, he knew he would worship you for eternity and more.

You started rolling your hips, coming off his lap slightly before taking all of him again. You held your bottom lip with your teeth as you started to speed up your pace, increasing the intensity of your rocks as well. "I need to hear you," Megumi said, in between moans. A slew of profanities slipped his lips as you released your bottom lip and a chorus of pleasure spilled from your mouth. 

His hands began to wander your body, trailing from your hips to your inner thighs, then up again to your breasts. He moved on to your graceful arms that were wrapped around his shoulders. His hands found their way to your neck and he loosely closed his fingers around your neck, causing you to roll your eyes back. 

Overwhelmed and nearing his own orgasm, Megumi wrapped his arms around your back and held you close, starting to thrust upward to meet your own rolls. A white fog began to seep into the back of Megumi's vision as he felt himself get close.

"I'm about to-" you started.

"Me, too," he finished, holding you impossibly tighter as both of your thrusts started to increase intensity. With an incoherent slur of your names, curses, and moans, you both finished simultaneously.

Megumi released broken whimpers as his own seed spilled into the condom and he felt your warmth trail down as well. He held you on his lap, keeping shallow ruts as you both rode out your highs. Your chest was rising intensely as you tried to catch your breath, not bothering to get off. "How long?" you asked.

"Since I met you."

(this is my first time writing in a LONG TIME, i really hope you enjoy and take care of yourselves !!)

[shadeysprings]

Fabled Memories

—Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Summary: You wake up one evening, battered and bruised, but have no recollection of how it came to be.

Warnings: implied kidnapping, basement wife vibes, amnesia & character death. There may be more, but remember that this is a dark fic, so please tread carefully.

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's Week Three Challenge: Something New and the trope I chose was Amnesia and Basement Wife. I've always wanted to write something that had the basement wife element and the thoughts just kept brewing. Plus, I've been antsy to write Steve again.

p.s. I may turn this into a mini-series.

Your feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated. Support content creators! And of course, I hope you guys enjoy! ❤️

The silence that fills the cafe is a welcome respite after dealing with the onslaught of impatient customers during the morning rush hour. It’s already half past eleven when you glance down at your watch, taking it as a cue to wipe down on the counter and fill the machine with the coffee beans to prepare for the second wave of patrons for the lunch rush.

While stacking the display case with pastries and sandwiches alike, you hear the bell chime and recite on instinct your customer service spiel. 

“I hope I can trouble you for a cup.” The familiar voice echoes in your ears and you look up, surprised to see Steve Rogers on the other side, smiling at you when your eyes meet.

“You’re early today, Captain.” You tell him and immediately make quick work of his usual order; a brewed coffee with two sugars and one cream. “You don’t usually stop by til after noon.”

“Yeah—well, Tony called in for a meeting today.” He huffs his response, propping his hand on his waist while the other rests on the counter, fingers drumming against the marble surface. “Wanted to discuss something about proper etiquette for the gala this coming Friday.”

That makes you snort, Steve looking at you curiously when you snap the lid on the cup and place it down on the counter. He looks at you expectantly and you shake your head instead, standing by the register to ring up his order. 

“What is it?” He urges, though gently, amusement painting on his face as he keeps his eyes on you. “You’re laughing at what I said.”

“I’m not laughing.” You say in defense but the Avenger only raises an eyebrow in question. So you cave, “It’s just funny thinking Mr. Stark would be talking about proper etiquette when the videos scattering online suggests otherwise. No offense to him though.” 

He laughs and so do you. “No offense taken, doll. Even Sam thinks the same.” The pet name still puts you off but you’ve gotten used to it over the year of making him his coffee. He slides a hundred to you after giving him his total and you count up his change. “Oh, you keep the change. You should know by now that I don’t take it.”

“I—” You stare at the bills in your hand before looking back at him. “But this is a little too much, Captain. I couldn’t possibly—”

“Of course you can. It’s a tip and you deserve it.” He smiles and takes the paper cup from the countertop, raising it up to you. “You make my coffee better than any of Stark’s fancy cappuccino machines and besides, I want to help you get that car you wanted.”

“Oh—you remembered that?” 

“How can I not?” He leans closer. “You kept talking about it and the way your eyes sparkled when you did just told me that you wanted it so bad.”

You chuckle and give him a smile. “I already got it actually. My husband—he got it for me as an anniversary pr—Oh god!”

You gasp and take a sudden step back when his coffee bursts in his hand, immediately making your way to the back to grab the mop and walking to where he stands to clean up the mess. But your eyes widen and you feel an unexpected chill run up your spine when you see the discarded paper cup on the floor, crushed.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve apologizes in a rush, waving him off when he tries to take the mop from you. “I guess I didn’t know my own strength.” He blurts out and you try to keep your cool as you busy yourself with the task, picking up the cup from the ground and heading back to the counter to discard it in the bin. 

“It’s alright.” You breathe, trying to keep the growing nervousness at bay. “Accidents happen. Let me make you a new one. On the house.” You tell him and quickly turn to make a fresh cup before he could even say anything. 

The comfortable silence from earlier turns a new leaf, feeling an uncertain tension building around the both of you and making you move at a measured pace. You feel Steve’s eyes burning the back of your head and you fight to dismiss the unease, convincing yourself that it was indeed an accident. The serum couldn’t be that perfect, right?

“You never mentioned you were married.” His tone is calm yet somewhat accusatory, your fingers shaking as you add the sugar to the brew. “I never even saw you wearing a ring.”

“I—I’m not allowed to wear it during my shift.” You explain matter of factly, forcing a smile when you snap the lid and turn to face him. “Sanitation and all.”

“I see,” He nods and takes the cup when you hold it out to him, his fingers brushing against yours, lingering before he pulls away. “Well, your husband is one lucky bastard to have a pretty thing like you as his wife.” You can’t help the blush that creeps up your neck from the compliment. 

You look to the door when the bell suddenly chimes, several of the working class customers lining up behind Steve while they look up at the menu to decide on their order. 

“I guess I should let you go.” His serious tone is gone, replaced by a cheerful one yet you feel that his words mean so much more than just leaving the cafe. “I’ll see you around, doll.” He says with finality with another of his friendly smiles before turning to leave but not without the customers stopping to ogle him as he walks past the door. 

You don’t see Steve for a week and you don’t want to admit it but you find his absence a relief. Your last encounter with him was awkward, something unusual for he seems to always be cool and collected when he comes over and gets his usual order. You’d dare to even say that the both of you are more than acquaintances with how much you’ve shared with each other while he waits for his coffee. 

Even Caleb, your husband, is jealous that you get to meet the great Captain America—with him being a fan of the Avengers like they were movie stars. It did give you the idea of asking Steve if he could meet your husband, a small surprise you’re planning for his coming birthday. Though you’ll wait til he comes back and you just hope that by then, the tension between the both of you has completely subsided.

“Hey there, I’m looking for a pretty girl who works here. Answers to ‘my love’ and sometimes ‘Mrs. Stinky Butt.’” You turn your head as you lock the shop doors, laughing at Caleb's commentary before smiling when you see the bouquet of sunflowers nestled in his arms. 

“I think she prefers ‘my love’ more, Mr. Stinky Butt.” You retort and greet your husband with a hug, humming softly when he plants a soft kiss on your lips and wraps an arm snuggly around your waist. “What are the flowers for?” You ask before leaning over and taking a whiff of their scent.

“Well, it has been a while since you did a closing shift and I know how tough it can be,” He begins, “So—I thought of a night full of activities to pamper my gorgeous wife so you can start your day tomorrow fully relaxed.”

You hum in thought while walking with him to your car. “I’m listening.” 

“Okay, so the flowers were first and it has already succeeded.” He says proudly and you chuckle at the wide grin he gives you. “There is a delicious take out dinner waiting for you at home—”

“Number Nine?” You ask in anticipation.

“The very one,” He confirms and you bounce in excitement before urging him to continue. “I also got us some face masks we can indulge in and we can end the night with popcorn and a movie of your choosing.”

“Even the sappy romantic ones?” 

“Especially the sappy romantic ones.” Caleb says and you quickly wrap your arms around him tightly, feeling your heart grow full with love for the man you call your husband. “Whoa—hug attack!” He exclaims and you laugh when he wraps his arms around you just as tight and spins you around. 

“Thank you, Babe.” You breathe when he sets you down, basking in the warmth of his embrace as the night breeze surrounds the both of you. “You’re the best.”

“No. You are—” He retorts before nuzzling his nose against yours. “And the best only deserves the best.”

You watch the scenery of the night as you stare out the window, unconsciously lifting the flowers to your nose to take in their scent once again. A smile kisses your lips when you feel Caleb’s hand rest on your thigh but wonder why they feel tense. Slowly, you reach down and take his hand in yours, pressing a kiss to each of his knuckles before turning in your seat to face him. 

“You have your seatbelt on, baby?” He asks, his voice strained as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Tell me you’re strapped in. Please.” He urges.

“I am—” You answer, feeling nervous when he only gives you a quick glance before turning back to face the road. “Is something wrong?” The way his grip tights around the wheel has your heart beat spiking. “Caleb?”

“I’m going to tell you something but you have to promise me that you won’t freak out, okay?” His voice is calm yet you can tell he’s nervous all the same. “Promise me, babe. I need you to stay calm and listen carefully.”

“I promise.” You choke out, your hand tightening on his fingers. “I’ll be calm.”

“Okay—I need you to call 911 and tell them we’re at the freeway on 71.” He starts, “Tell them that you’re in the car with your husband and that the breaks are not working.”

“What?!” You gasp and drop the flowers to the floor. “Caleb—wh-what happened?! What—why?”

“Babe, calm down. You promised me.” He coos, turning your hand in his before pulling it to him and pressing the back of your palm against his cheek. “Now, breathe for me, baby. Breathe then get your phone and make the call. And you have to tell them we’re running 80 miles.”

“Okay.” You nod, swallowing thickly as you try to quell your fear. “Okay.” With your free hand, you grab your clutch on the center console and take out your phone. Your fingers begin fidgeting as you dial the number as fast as you can, your knee bouncing as you wait for the responder to answer.

But fear encapsulates you in a tight cocoon, suffocating you when no one picks up. You try again, and again, but you still end up with the same result.

“Why is no one answering?!” You say in a panic and look over at Caleb, his eyes focused and his face only illuminated by lights from the lamp posts. 

“Fuck!” He grunts and releases your hand, looking around after before facing the road. “Get out of your seat, babe, and I want you to go to the back and strap yourself in.” He instructs. 

“But Ca—”

“No questions, babe. Just do it. Please.” He almost begs and you nod, quickly unbuckling your seat belt before climbing to the back and strapping yourself in once again. “Tell me once you’re done.”

“I’m buckled in.” Your voice quivers as you look ahead, whispering a silent prayer to the heavens. “What are we going to do?”

You hear the car rev before it starts to lose control, Caleb gripping tight on the wheel as he tries to center it on the road. You let out a scream when the car goes off road, several vehicles honking and swerving to get out of the way. Darkness completely shrouds the car as you enter, what you hope is a grassy field, a shriek escaping your lips when you hit a wired fence. 

You try to focus on Caleb’s eyes on the rear view mirror, trying to look for a semblance of hope that you both will be okay. But when he meets yours, you see the fear looming in his blue irises. 

Desolation suddenly washes over you when he no longer looks ahead, keeping his eyes on your face. You see him reach for you and you do the same, grasping his hand tight like a lifeline. But your heart shatters when you see the tear that escapes him, one that you mirror as you feel him silently bidding you goodbye.

“I love you so much, babe.” He whispers. “I’m so darn lucky to have met you.”

“Caleb—” You croak as you try to wipe your own tears. “What are you saying? We’ll be okay, right?” You whimper before looking around to try and see if anything would save the both of you yet all you see is nothing. 

Before you can turn to face him again, wanting nothing but to look at him if this was indeed the end, a loud bang echoes through the open and you jolt forward, crying loudly and screaming when your head slams roughly against the ceiling of the car. You feel the vehicle turn over, rolling uncontrollably into the void until everything stops and goes dark.

The bright, white light glares harshly against your eyes when you open them, squinting as you groan and move against the bed you lay on, trying to decipher where you are. A soft beeping sound plays on your left, and an IV drip hangs on your right, to which you find connected to you, along with several other contraptions. 

You have no recollection of what happened before you woke up, not even an inkling of how you ended up in the hospital room. You don’t even know what time or day it is, the window in the far right side of the room being the only source to tell you  it’s night time. 

Pain then rushes through your body as you try to sit up, seeing your left leg elevated by a sling that hangs from the ceiling and feeling a bandage wrapped around your head when you lift your hand to try and ease the ache hammering in your temples. 

Panic quickly consumes you as you as questions fill your head. Why are you in bandages? Why are you here? Where the hell are you? The beeping at your side starts growing frantic, and you along with it, your heart beating faster and your hands clenching into fist against the white sheets of the bed, and all at once screaming for help, crying for anyone to come to your aid.

The door to the right suddenly opens and you stop when you see a blond man enter. Worry fills his face and you see his eyes brimming with tears as he walks over to you, only stopping mid way when you hold your arms out and try to push yourself against the pillow and away from him. But such actions don't deter the stranger, only having them push on and sit at the edge of the bed, his movements slow and gentle as he reaches over and caresses the side of your face. 

“Thank God, you’re awake.” He chokes out a sob before taking both of your hands in his and pressing them to his lips. “I was so worried. The doctor said it might be months before you ever woke up.” He opens your closed fist and carefully places them on his cheek, leaning against your touch.

You study his face, his golden hair looking messy and his face in obvious distraught as his forehead wrinkles when his sapphire eyes meet yours. The sleeves of his black sweater are rolled up to his elbows, showing off the strength he possesses. You feel like you’ve seen him before but you can’t place it, all sense of knowing seemingly lost as you don’t even recall anything about yourself. 

“Wh—who are you?” You ask, frowning when you see the shock form on his face.

“I—” He struggles to speak, his eyes closing as he squeezes your hand. “You don’t remember me?” 

“I—I’m sorry—” You mumble. “I—I don’t—should I?”

“The doctors said this would happen but I was skeptical.” You see the tears flow from his eyes and you feel a pang of pain deep in your chest upon seeing his sadness. “But don’t worry, hon. We’ll get through this.” He says with surety before opening his eyes and facing you once again. “We can start small—your name.”

He says a name and tells you that it’s yours. You feel unsure but you latch onto his words, desperate to know more. 

“I’m Steve Rogers.” He says next, lacing his fingers with yours. “And I’m your husband.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springdandelixn-archives and turn on notifications.

[livesincerely]

there’s no escape (i can’t wait) - ch. 1

Also on Ao3. A/B/O. Rated E but this particular chapter isn’t explicit.

Other entries in this series can be found here and here.

00000

Later, Eddie will think that he knew, somehow, before he actually knew.

He’s finishing up in the locker room, about to head into a 24-hour shift, when a rush of… something sweeps over him. There’s a prickle of anticipation at the nape of his neck, goosebumps sprouting all over his arms, and he glances up, nose twitching, right as Buck comes shuffling in.

“Hey,” Buck greets him in a low, gravelly voice, tossing his duffle down onto the bench. 

On any other day, Eddie would worry that he’d had a bad night. Today, he knows the exact reason for that rough rasp, and it sends a thrill of heat sparking up his spine.

“H-hey,” Eddie manages, blinking rapidly. “Uh, aren’t you supposed to be on leave?”

”Bobby called,” Buck explains, tugging off his t-shirt and rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

There’s a soft, gorgeous flush to his skin—his cheeks, neck, and chest painted a perfect, rosy shade of pink—and as he starts to shrug into his uniform there’s the faintest whiff of something delicious.

Something mouthwatering.

Eddie’s heart stutters traitorously against his ribs, and he forces himself to look away before Buck catches him staring. 

“Whittler’s partner went into labor last night,” Buck continues, oblivious to his plight. “This morning? Whichever, and Ginsburg’s still in Cabo until Tuesday.”

“That sucks,” Eddie says, in what he hopes is a nice, normal tone. “You gonna be okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” Buck assures him. “I was gonna use today to prep and get ahead on laundry, but one last shift won’t kill me. My ruts tend to be pretty tame for the most part, but I’ve got extra blockers and scent neutralizing spray in my bag just in case.”

Tame? There’s not a damn thing tame about Eddie’s sudden urge to plaster himself against Buck’s front and swirl his tongue around the hollow of his throat, but maybe that’s just him.

Mine, his instincts purr. All mine, and that’s his cue to make a strategic retreat.

He jolts to his feet. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Actually,” Buck calls out before he can make it more than a couple steps, sounding a touch sheepish. “Would you mind…?”

And he ducks his chin and tips his head to the side, exposing the long line of his throat.

Eddie’s mouth goes dry. 

“You want me to scent mark you?” he asks, voice tight. 

It probably shouldn’t come as such a surprise. Buck’s about as tactile as they come, and the two of them spend so much time together that they constantly smell at least a little of each other—a fact that definitely doesn’t make Eddie want to preen like a possessive peacock, thank you very much.

But a proper, deliberate scenting, right on the cusp of Buck’s rut? 

That feels different. 

Feels special.

Mine, his hindbrain insists once again.

Naturally, Buck chooses this exact second to finally notice Eddie’s reaction to his… everything. 

“Um, yeah?” he says, brow furrowed and nostrils flaring as he takes him in. “Why, what’s…”

He takes in a deep inhale, then his expression clears all at once.

”Oh. Oh, you… Wait, really?”

Eddie’s cheeks heat. “Shut up.”

“I… Did I know this already?” Buck wonders, a smug sort of delight starting to curl over his lips. But just beneath it there’s a softer, more earnest sort of elation—like he’s just been offered a dream come true on a silver platter. “Because this feels like the sort of thing I should’ve been made aware of. Have you been holding out on me, Edmundo?”

“Shut up,” Eddie huffs again, but there’s no real feeling behind it. He’s too busy fighting a smile, hope lighting him up inside like the best kind of vertigo. “It’s not like I can really keep anything from you when you keep sniffing me out like a fucking bloodhound. If it’s taken you this long to notice, that’s on you.”

“Actually, did you know that an alpha’s olfactory senses can become up to eighty percent stronger in the three days leading up to their rut?” Buck tells him cheerfully. “To help them stay in tune with the needs of their pack, and especially their mate, throughout their cycle.”

Of course, this fun fact does nothing to disguise the fact that he’s closing in on him like a predator on its prey, swaggering towards him with his shoulders rolled back and his thumbs tucked into his belt, the cocky, beautiful bastard.

Eddie holds his ground, lets Buck approach until they’re standing toe to toe, chest to chest.

“Oh, yeah? And what are you picking up from my scent, then, alpha?” he murmurs, meeting the challenge with one of his own. He can almost see the way the word lands, the way Buck’s spine straightens like he’s got something to prove. “Any interesting insights?”

Buck gives him a long, considering look.

“That’s definitely not something I can get into without causing a workplace incident,” he eventually admits.

Oh, fuck.

“Keep looking at me like that and I’m going to cause a workplace incident,” Eddie warns him, swaying closer despite himself.

“To be perfectly honest, Eds, that’s really not much of a deterrent.”

“This is going to be a long fucking shift if you don’t reel it in,” Eddie says with a sigh, fond exasperation and bone-deep desire inextricably twined. “A long, frustrating shift.”

“Or, a very, very short one,” Buck counters, because he’s never found a line he’s not willing to toe.

Eddie flicks him on the nose. 

“Stop it, he orders.

They’re standing close enough together that Eddie can see the way Buck’s pupils dilate, his gaze turning half-lidded and hungry.

“I’ll behave,” he promises, but it sounds more like a threat. Eddie valiantly resists a shiver.

The moment lingers—a static charge that only needs a touch of friction to burst into flame—then slowly dissipates; no, is carefully set aside to be explored later. 

Eddie reaches up to squeeze Buck’s shoulder, then lets his hand trail higher to cup around the back of his neck.

“You still want that scent mark? Or is it going to make things worse?” 

Strong, warm hands land on either side of his waist.

”I want it,” Buck insists, which isn’t really an answer, but Eddie doesn’t have it in him to deny him.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, reeling him in.

Buck melts into the touch like he’d just been waiting for permission, nuzzling in to rub his face against Eddie’s throat. He lets out a quiet, contented noise, wrapping himself around him like he’s planning to make a home in the curve of his neck, his chest rumbling all the while.

Eddie chuffs back automatically, threading his fingers through the curls at the nape of Buck’s neck. He pulls him closer, arching up and tucking his nose into the space behind his ear before he can stop himself. 

He just smells so good: all toasty and golden and a little sweet, like freshly baked sunshine drizzled in honey, with just a slight undertone of sharp-ember-smoke to indicate his approaching rut.

Eddie wants to wallow in that scent, wants to lick the taste of it right out of Buck’s mouth, wants to just bare his teeth and bite, sink his teeth in so deep that no one would dare to doubt his claim—

The bell ringing overhead stops him before he can do anything that might cost him his job, and he’s honestly not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. There’s still another twenty or so minutes before their shift so this call isn’t their problem, thank god, because Eddie’s brain is too busy chanting Buck, Buck, yes, mine, Buck, alpha, mine, to be responsible for anyone’s health and wellbeing.

They slowly peel apart, both a little dazed.

“How’s that?” Eddie asks, brushing a piece of hair out of his face to give himself something to do with his hands that’s not sticking them down Buck’s pants. “Better?”

”Better,” Buck says. “Thanks, Eds.”

”Don’t mention it,” Eddie says, not really thinking about it, and Buck immediately frowns.

”But, we will, right? Talk about it, I mean,” he asks quietly, taking Eddie’s hand gently in his own and lacing their fingers together. “I know we can’t really get into it right now, but I don’t want this to be one of those things we just… brush past and not talk about. Because I want us. I want you. And I’m tired of pretending like I don’t.”

Eddie hadn’t realized he was still holding onto some tension until the last of it finally bleeds away. Of course they’re on the same page about this, about them. Of course they’re in this together.

Aren’t they always, when it comes to the important things?

”Let’s get through this shift,” Eddie says. “After that, I’m all yours.”

It’s honest. With anyone else, he’d think it was too honest. But he’s not sure there’s any such thing when it comes to Buck.

”I’ll hold you to that,” Buck replies, and he lifts their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss first to Eddie’s knuckles, and then to the fluttering pulse point on the inside of his wrist, never once dropping his gaze from his own

Eddie flushes from head to toe.

“You— I told you to stop looking at me like that,” he hisses as he snatches his hand back, distinctly hot under the collar.

Buck just laughs: low and raspy. “I make no promises.”

”Por dios,” Eddie mutters under his breath, begging for strength.

He’s already in completely over his head and there’s no where he’d rather be.

”Later,” he reminds them both.

”Later,” Buck agrees.

[lifeofpriya]

The Courtside Surprise - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @schumi-nadal]

summary: you take a bold step out of your comfort zone to support your boyfriend at the US Open...

"You did so amazing out there, babe, " you couldn't help but beam at your boyfriend, Jack, as you talked to him on the phone. "I just wish I could've been there to cheer you on in person."

Jack chuckled, his voice warm despite the distance. "Thanks, love. I felt your energy from all the way over here."

You watched as he took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the bustling city outside the hotel window. The light from the streetlamps painted a soft glow across his tired yet triumphant features. He was in New York City, living his dream.

"You know, I've never told you this," he began, turning to face you, "but I've always been a bit nervous before the big matches."

Your heart swelled at his admission. You knew how much he loved the sport, but you had never realized the weight of the pressure he carried on his shoulders.

"Jack, you're a pro," you said, trying to reassure him. "You've got this. Just focus on your game, and remember that no matter what happens, I'm proud of you."

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know. It's just…this is the US Open, the last Grand Slam of the year. And the quarterfinals, wow."

"Get some rest, Jack," you softly urged, noticing the shadows under his eyes. "You had a tough match today. You'll need to be in tip-top shape for the next round."

Jack nodded, the weight of his weariness evident in his every movement. "You're right. I should probably hit the sack. But I'll miss you tonight."

"I'll be with you in spirit," you promised, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. The truth was, you wished you could be there with him more than anything. But your fear of flying had always held you back from traveling to his matches, and Jack had been so understanding about it.

After hanging up, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were missing out on something special. You felt a sudden jolt of courage, a determination to overcome your fear for Jack. You grabbed your laptop and started searching for flights to New York City. Your heart raced with every click of the mouse, but you didn't let the anxiety deter you. You had to do this.

The next day, you called in sick to work and booked the earliest flight you could find. The price was steep, but the thought of seeing Jack play in the quarterfinals was worth every penny. As you packed your bag, your hands trembled slightly, but excitement began to outweigh the fear. You didn't tell anyone about your plans, not even Jack. You wanted it to be a surprise.

The flight was long and turbulent, but you kept your eyes glued to the in-flight entertainment, focusing on the movies and TV shows to distract yourself from the rumbling beneath you. Each jolt of the plane sent a shiver down your spine, but you breathed deeply, reminding yourself why you were here. You had to do this for Jack.

Finally, the plane touched down in the early hours of the morning. You emerged from the airport into the warm embrace of the New York City night, a stark contrast to the cool air-conditioned aircraft. The city lights danced in the distance, a dizzying array of colors and life that filled you with a strange sense of exhilaration. You hailed a taxi, giving the driver the address to your hotel. The ride was a blur of yellow lights and honking horns, but you were too tired to let the chaos of the city overwhelm you.

As you checked into the hotel, the receptionist offered you a sympathetic smile. "Long flight?" they asked. You nodded, trying to keep the tremor from your voice. "Just a bit," you replied, taking the key and heading for the elevator. The room was small but clean, with a view of the city that seemed to stretch on forever. You collapsed onto the bed, the adrenaline of the journey subsiding into a deep, dreamless sleep.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm, the sun streaming through the blinds. You had a few hours before Jack's match, so you took a quick shower and got dressed. Your stomach rumbled as you realized you hadn't eaten anything since the flight's in-flight meal. Deciding to grab a bite before heading to the stadium, you stepped out into the bustling streets. The smell of fresh bagels and coffee filled the air, mingling with the sounds of traffic and distant chatter.

You found a small café and ordered a breakfast sandwich and a large cup of your preferred hot beverage. As you ate, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. You were actually in New York City, and you were about to watch Jack play in the US Open quarterfinals. The thought was surreal.

After finishing your meal, you decided to explore the city a bit, wandering through the streets, soaking in the vibrant energy that seemed to pulse through the concrete and steel. The buildings towered above you, and the sidewalks were a river of diverse faces, each with their own story to tell. The sounds of the city were a symphony of honking cars, chattering pedestrians, and distant sirens. It was overwhelming, but you felt alive.

As the time for Jack's match approached, you hailed another taxi, the anticipation building with each passing minute. The driver navigated through the city's veins, weaving in and out of traffic with a confidence that made you slightly queasy. You focused on the destination ahead, your heart racing faster than the meter.

Upon arriving at the stadium, you were met with a sea of faces, all dressed in their vibrant outfits, ready to cheer on their favorite players. The atmosphere was electric, a buzz of excitement that seemed to resonate in your very bones. You found your seat in the stands, a perfect spot to watch Jack play, and felt a sudden rush of adrenaline as you spotted the pristine courts below.

The match was about to start, and the tension in the air was palpable. The unmistakable thwack of rackets echoed through the stadium as the players warmed up, sending chills down your spine. You scanned the court, looking for Jack, but it took you less than a second after you spotted the infamous beetroot gradient baggy kit that clung to his muscular frame to find him.

Jack looked up into the stands, searching for familiar faces. His eyes scanned the crowd, and for a moment, you held your breath, hoping he wouldn't spot you. The last thing you wanted was to distract him before the match.

You ducked your head, hoping to stay out of sight as Jack's gaze swept over the sea of faces. Your heart hammered in your chest, fearful that he would see you and your surprise would be ruined. But as the seconds ticked away, you realized he hadn't spotted you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies that had taken up residence in your stomach.

The players took their positions, and the umpire announced the start of the match. The crowd erupted into cheers, the sound washing over you like a wave. You watched as Jack served the first ball, his muscles coiling and uncoiling with precision and power. The opponent returned the serve, and the game was on. You found yourself leaning forward in your seat, your heart racing with every point.

Jack played with a focus that was almost tangible, his eyes never leaving the ball. You could see the sweat glistening on his forehead, the determination etched into his features. Each volley was a dance of skill and strategy, a silent conversation between the players that spoke of years of practice and passion. The crowd around you was alive, their energy feeding into the game, urging the players on.

You watched, transfixed, as Jack moved across the court with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly. His strokes were a symphony of power and finesse; each one met with a roar of approval from the spectators. The score was tight, and every point felt like a battle won or lost. Your heart ached with each victory, your nails digging into the armrest as the tension grew.

The match progressed, the sun moving slowly across the sky, casting shadows that grew longer and more dramatic across the pristine green of the tennis courts. You were surprised at how quickly the time passed and how each serve and volley held you captive. You had never felt so connected to the sport, so invested in the outcome of a game.

As Jack took a break between sets, you couldn't resist the urge to check your phone for messages. You had turned it off during the flight, and now it buzzed with notifications. Most of them were from work, but there was one from Jack that stood out. "Love, I miss you. Wish you were here," it read. Your stomach flipped, and you felt a warmth spread through you, knowing that you were about to make his wish come true.

The second set began, and the tension grew even thicker. The crowd was a mix of die-hard fans and curious tourists, all caught up in the thrill of the game. You felt your palms growing sweaty, your body mirroring Jack's exertion on the court. Each point was a battle, and you found yourself whispering words of encouragement, as if he could hear you from across the stadium.

As the game reached its climax, the crowd grew quieter, their collective breath held in anticipation. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and freshly cut grass. The final set was a nail-biter, with both players giving it their all. The rallies grew longer, the points more intense. You sat on the edge of your seat, your eyes never leaving Jack.

Jack's opponent was formidable, a seasoned pro with a powerful serve and a fiery spirit. Each point was a battle of wills, a silent duel that had the audience leaning forward, their whispers punctuating the rhythm of the game. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the court, but Jack's energy remained unflagging.

You felt a knot in your stomach tighten with every passing moment. Each time Jack scored, you couldn't help but let out a little cheer, your voice lost in the roar of the crowd. The match was a seesaw of emotions, the score yo-yoing back and forth. The intensity grew with each set, the tension so thick you could almost touch it.

Jack's opponent served, and the ball rocketed towards him. He lunged, his racket making contact with a satisfying thwack, sending the ball back over the net. The rally was on, the players moving like dancers in a choreographed routine, each step precise and calculated. The crowd watched in silent awe, the only sounds the squeak of sneakers and the occasional grunt of effort.

The score was tied at five games apiece in the final set. You could see the fatigue etched into Jack's face, his eyes narrowed with concentration. His opponent, however, showed no signs of slowing down, each shot a testament to his experience and skill. You bit your lip, willing Jack to find that extra gear, to push through the exhaustion and fear.

Jack took a deep breath, wiped his brow, and readied himself for the next serve. The silence in the stadium was deafening, the air charged with anticipation. The ball was tossed, Jack's racket swung back, and time seemed to slow down as he sent the ball hurtling over the net. The opponent returned it with a ferocity that had you clutching the armrest even tighter.

The volley continued, each player giving their all, their bodies moving in a blur of speed and precision. You watched, your heart in your throat, as Jack approached the net, his racket poised. The opponent lobbed the ball high into the air, and Jack leaped, his body a perfect arc of power and grace. The crowd gasped as he slammed the ball down with such force that it barely kissed the line before bouncing away.

The umpire called out, "Game, set, match, Draper!" and the stadium erupted into a cacophony of cheers and applause. Jack looked up, his eyes searching the stands, and for a moment, they locked with yours. Shock and disbelief registered on his face before it broke into a wide grin. He knew you were there, and you could see the love and gratitude in his eyes.

You couldn't hold back the tears as Jack approached the net, shaking hands with his opponent, both men displaying an immense respect for the battle they had just fought. The crowd's applause grew louder, and you felt the warmth of their shared victory. As Jack made his way off the court, he pointed up at you, mouthing the words, "Thank you."

The match was over, but the excitement in the stadium lingered like the echo of the final point. You gathered your things, the thrill of the game still reverberating through your body. The crowd thinned as people made their way to the exits, but you remained in your seat, watching Jack interact with his coach and team, his movements now loose and relaxed.

As the courts cleared, you made your way down to the player's exit, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. The anticipation grew with each step, your heart racing as you approached the barricade. You spotted Jack talking to some fans, signing autographs, and taking photos. He looked up, his eyes scanning the crowd again, searching for you.

Your heart skipped a beat when he finally saw you. He broke away from the group, jogging over with a look of utter astonishment. "What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and joy.

"I had to come," you replied, your voice shaking slightly as you handed him the bouquet of flowers you had picked up on the way. "These are for you, by the way."

Jack's eyes widened, and he took the flowers with a gentle smile, his calloused hands brushing against yours. "You really did it," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You came all the way here to watch me play."

You nodded, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as you met his gaze. "I had to. You've worked so hard for this, and I wanted to be here to support you."

Jack's eyes searched yours, a warmth that made your knees feel like jelly. "Thank you," he said, the sincerity in his voice making the words feel like a warm embrace. He leaned in, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, and you felt the world tilt on its axis for just a moment. The barricade between you felt like it was made of paper, and you wished you could just reach out and pull him into a tight hug.

But there were fans waiting, reporters eager for a soundbite, and a stadium full of people still watching. You stepped aside, allowing him to continue his victory lap, but not before whispering, "See you after the press conference."

Jack nodded, his eyes shining with appreciation. You felt a strange sense of pride swell in your chest as you watched him move through the throng of people, signing autographs and sharing his victory with his fans. It was a side of him you hadn't seen before, this public figure who could handle the spotlight with such ease.

As he disappeared into the bowels of the stadium for his press conference, you found a quiet spot to wait, your thoughts racing. You had done it. You had faced your fear and made it to New York City to support Jack. The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying. What if he had lost? Would your surprise have felt like a burden instead of a gift?

The minutes ticked by, and you could feel the buzz of the match slowly fading from the air. Eventually, Jack emerged from the player's tunnel, his eyes scanning the now-deserted stands. He spotted you, and a genuine smile lit up his face as he made his way over.

"How did you pull this off?" he asked, his voice still carrying the excitement of the match. "You hate flying."

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I had to be here. For you."

Jack's eyes searched yours, the weight of his fatigue lifted by the joy of your surprise. "You know you didn't have to do this," he said, taking your hand. "But it means the world to me that you did."

You squeezed his hand in response, the warmth of his touch anchoring you in the moment. "I know, but I wanted to. Plus, I had to see you in that kit," you teased, nodding towards his sweat-soaked outfit.

Jack chuckled, a sound that seemed to resonate through the now-quiet stadium. "It's not my best look," he admitted, "but I'll wear it for you any day." His smile grew more serious. "Love, I'm so proud of you for facing your fear. This means more to me than winning today."

You felt a swell of emotion, unsure if it was the adrenaline from the match or the weight of Jack's words. "I'm just happy to be here," you said, your voice thick with unshed tears. "Now, let's get out of here and celebrate your win."

Jack nodded, and you both made your way out of the stadium. The cool evening air was a welcome relief from the heat of the day. The city lights twinkled like stars against the darkening sky, casting a warm glow over the concrete jungle. The sounds of the city were a comforting cacophony that had grown familiar over the past few hours.

You walked hand in hand, the cobblestone streets of the city's outskirts leading you to a quiet Italian restaurant that Jack had mentioned wanting to try. The smell of garlic and fresh bread wafted through the air, making your stomach growl. You hadn't eaten since the small breakfast you'd had before the match, and the thought of a hearty meal was incredibly appealing.

Jack was quieter than usual, his mind likely still racing from the high of the match. You didn't mind the silence; it was comforting in its own way, a shared understanding of the monumental event you had both just experienced. As you approached the restaurant, the soft glow of the lights and the sound of laughter spilling out onto the street made your heart race a little faster. This was it, the moment you had dreamed of.

The hostess led you to a cozy table in the corner, far enough from the bustle to feel intimate but close enough to the kitchen to enjoy the symphony of sizzles and clangs. You ordered a feast of pasta, pizza, and antipasti to share. The warmth of the room and the smell of garlic and tomato sauce filled your senses, grounding you in the present.

Jack, still on an adrenaline high, recounted every moment of the match, his eyes lighting up as he described the points that had you on the edge of your seat. You listened intently, marveling at his ability to recall every stroke and strategy. As he spoke, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell within you. You had been there, witnessing his triumph firsthand.

The food arrived, a feast of color and aroma that seemed to match the vibrancy of the city outside. You both dug in, hunger winning over the need for conversation. Each bite was a symphony of flavors, the cheese stretching like a warm embrace around the tender pasta, the crust of the pizza crackling with every slice.

As you ate, Jack's eyes never left yours, a silent conversation passing between you that transcended the need for words. The fear and the thrill of the day had brought you closer than ever before; the air between you charged with a newfound understanding of what it meant to support each other through thick and thin.

The meal was a celebration, not just of his victory, but of your courage. Each bite of food was a declaration of love and support, a silent promise to always be there for each other, no matter the challenge. The clinking of glasses and the low murmur of the other diners faded into the background as you shared stories and laughter, savoring every moment.

After dinner, Jack suggested a walk around the city to burn off some of the carbs. You agreed eagerly, eager to explore the vibrant streets of New York with him by your side. The air was cooler now, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of the nearby river. You strolled along the waterfront, the lights of the city reflecting off the rippling surface like a mirror of stars.

Jack was still on a high from his win, his stride long and confident. He pointed out landmarks and shared stories of his previous visits to the city, his eyes alight with excitement. You listened, content to be the silent companion, soaking in his happiness. It was as if the fear and nerves of the flight had been a distant memory, replaced by the exhilaration of the moment.

You stopped at a small park, the quiet a stark contrast to the chaos of the streets. The moon cast a soft glow over the greenery, and you could see Jack's reflection in the calm pond water. He leaned down to kiss you, his breath warm against your cheek. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "This is the best surprise ever."

You smiled up at him, feeling the weight of the day's events settle in your chest. "You're welcome," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The moment was perfect, untainted by the fear that had once consumed you. You felt brave, standing there with Jack; the city lights your backdrop.

[derangedanomaly]

can we get some dream fluff?

like say reader is feeling down and dream is comforting them?

Yess! I finally got a divider! Hope you'll enjoy this! This was a small fic, but I hope you'll like it! :D

ROUGH TIMES

(DREAM X READER - COMFORT FLUFF)

You shake your head, all of your flustrations bubbling up inside of you, slowly breaking. You cannot keep it together, having enough of this stressful week.

Just as you were about to blew up, a sudden knock on your door made you freeze. "Hello?? Y/n, it's me, can I come in?" Dream spoke, honey lacing his voice. You knew he could sense your emotions. He knew how frustrated you felt. Yet he still decided to check up on you... "Yes, Dream, come on in.." you dropped down on your bed with a tired sigh escaping your lips.

Dream peeked into the room, noticing your tired form on the bed. He went up to you, showing clear concerns about you. "Y/n.. are you ok?" You sighed in exhaustion.

"No.."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You think about his words. If there's anyone that could make you feel better. It's Dream. You smile with this realization, looking at Dream, who in turn averted his gaze away from you. "I'm just having a stressful week..." Dream hummed in acknowledgment, lowering himself to sit on your bed. "Today was especially stressful.. I'm just looking forward for a well earned relaxation." Dream nodded along with your words. It was nice having someone listen to you for once. "Well, do you need to do something now?" You carefully thought about his words... you don't recall any chore you have to do at this time, but then again, it could just be from exhaustion. "I can't think of any right now...why-" before you could answer, your bed slightly shifted as Dream laid down beside you, covering you both with a blanket.

Your eyes widened, soft blush covering your cheeks. Dream stared in your eyes in complete silence... Well this was awkward. You slightly chuckle. "Dream, what're you doing?" You smile up at him with raised eyebrows. He was acting quite silly. "You're clearly overworked, so I'm giving you your well desired break. Remember, overworking yourself to the brink of exhaustion is not healthy." Dream simply told you as his hands wrapped around your waist. He's being really clingy right now..

You chuckled silently. "Damn, take me out to dinner first." Dream froze at that comment as you were resisting the urge to laugh at his face. He suddenly erupted into laughter, which was the last straw for you as you also, blew up in laughter. "I don't know, maybe I will." This, in turn, made you freeze. "Huh? You'd..want to take me out?" Dream only stared in silence. His cheeks were slowly being painted in yellow, as his face showed a goofy smile. "Would you say 'yes'?" His question got you tongue tied, as you weren't expecting it. "Dream..." Your hands caressed his cheeks, as your face was adorned with a soft expression. "Of course I'd agree." This got Dream really happy than ever before suddenly, as his hold on you only tightened, bringing you closer to him. "Then... Y/n... will you go out with me? After you'll rest, of course." You giggled, nodding along to his words.

"Yes. I will, Dream. Thank you.. for taking care of me..." You leaned on his chest, as Dream closed his eyes. "I'll always take care of you. Now go to sleep. Goodnight...

buttercup..."

[haihaihaitani]

4:46 PM ~ *Chifuyu Matsuno*

Summary: You forgot your umbrella. Luckily Chifuyu has one to share.

Pairing: Chifuyu Matsuno X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 760

Warning: Tooth rotting fluffiness

Masterlist

Taglist: @soulangel

Rain. Of course it was raining. And of course you forgot your umbrella. Really, you should have known better. It’s been raining all week. Why would today be any different?

With a dejected sigh, you slid down the wall and sat in front of the door. It was the only thing you could do at the moment. There was no way you were going out in that storm! You didn’t want to get soaked or sick.

Another thing you didn’t want to do was wallow in your self pity. Sure, you had no one to blame but yourself but that didn’t mean you wanted to think about it. It was your own fault you were in this situation and you were the only one who could get you out of it. You searched your bag to try and find something to block the rain.

“Y/n?” A soft voice called out to you.

You glanced up to see Chifuyu looking back at you with concern in his eyes. “Oh, hi, Chifuyu. Heading out?”

He nodded. “Yes, I am. Did you lose your umbrella?”

“More like I forgot it.” You admitted with a groan.

“Oh, I see.” He pulled an umbrella out of his bag and you winced internally. It seemed you really were the only one who forgot one.

“You don’t live too far from here, correct?” He asked.

Blinking in shock, you hesitated. He wasn’t implying what you thought he was implying was he? “Um… yes?”

Apparently he was, because he said, “Well, you can walk with me if you’d like, since I have an umbrella. I don’t mind sharing.”

Matching blushes painted themselves on yours and his cheeks, so you decided to glance outside at the storm. Making your decision, you stood up. “Alright, thank you, Chifuyu. I really appreciate it.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome, Y/n.”

The two of you walked outside, Chifuyu making sure neither of you got wet. While he kept his eye on the umbrella, you helped avoid big puddles. It was an excuse to not look at him.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a little crush on him. Correction: a massive crush on him. But then again, who wouldn’t? He was smart, sweet, and strong. He could make anyone smile just by smiling first. Chifuyu truly was like an angel on Earth. Obviously, he was sharing his umbrella with you when he didn’t have to!

A truck was rumbling towards the two of you and you jumped out of the way so you didn’t get splashed. This caused you to grab the umbrella to steady yourself and knock shoulders with Chifuyu. He paused and grabbed your other shoulder to keep you both stable.

“Are you alright?” He squeaked out.

“I’m fine.” You nodded shyly, averting your eyes. However, you noticed that your hand was practically on top of his. That must have happened when you grabbed the umbrella to steady yourself. Your cheeks burned hot and you slowly removed your hand.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

“It’s okay!” He answered a bit too quickly.

The rest of the walk passed in awkward silence. You couldn’t seem to shake the blush that was keeping your cheeks warm. It also didn’t help that your hands broke out into a cold sweat. Seriously, now was not the time to be acting like a shy, lovestruck child!

However, when you snuck a glance at Chifuyu, you noticed that he looked nervous as well. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he looked positively flustered. But you didn’t have time to ponder that idea, as you had arrived home.

“Well this is me.” You muttered.

He nodded, still holding the umbrella over you so that you could fish out your key without getting wet. “See you tomorrow, Y/n?”

You nodded and locked eyes with him. All of a sudden you felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him. But that was absolutely crazy! He didn’t like you the way you liked him, right? Well, there was only one way to find out…

“Bye Chifuyu.” You said and then kissed his cheek. You rushed inside before he could answer, your heart practically beating out of your chest.

Chifuyu touched his cheek where you kissed him and felt his heart skip a beat. If he didn’t know any better, you seemed to like him too. As he set off in the opposite direction to where he lived, he silently hoped that you would forget your umbrella tomorrow so he could do this all over again.

[practically-an-x-man]

Prompt? (No rush, save it if you wanna)

Write a Drabble for each of your OCs with the theme of Breakfast.

Ooooh now this is a challenge! A drabble is meant to be exactly a hundred words... and I'm pedantic as fuck when I write. But I'll give this a try, thanks for the prompt!

Rae:

"Wanna go out today?" Warren asked, leaning backwards out the bathroom door to look at Rae in the bedroom beyond, "Coffee? Breakfast?" "What's the special occasion?" she replied lightly as she ran a comb through the snarls in her hair. Warren shrugged. "No special occasion. Just wanted to take you out to breakfast, is all." he said, then shot her his most charming smile, "Want to show off the fact that I've got the most beautiful girl in the world." "You don't have to chat me up, you know." Rae said, but couldn't hide her blush, "I'm already all yours."

Robin:

"Wren, honey-" Peter started, then lightly rapped his knuckles on his daughter's dining tray to get her attention. The toddler looked up, and Peter switched to ASL seamlessly: Cheerios go in your mouth. Not the floor. "Is your daughter making a mess again?" Robin asked, nursing her mug of coffee with a faint smile on her face. Peter raised his eyebrows at her, though he couldn't hold back his grin. "Why is she my daughter every time she makes a mess?" "Because she's my daughter every time she doesn't listen?" Robin fired back with a shrug, "I mean- metaphorically speaking."

Madison:

"Bravo, breakfast!" At the promise of food, the wolfdog bounded eagerly off the foot of the bed. Alex, who had been lying half-underneath the animal, crumpled inwards with a sudden, sharp groan. "You okay?" Madison asked, amusement quickly turning to concern when she saw the grimace painted across his face. "Got used as a launchpad," he muttered, clutching at his lower abdomen, "Worst alarm clock ever." "Pretty sure I've had worse." "I mean worst for people who didn't spend half their life living in the middle of nowhere." "Eh, I'll make it up to you," Madison promised, "Bravo, let's go."

Ophelia:

"Here, Ol's." Peter said, sliding a plate of steaming scrambled eggs onto the only open space on her desk - which happened to be exactly where she was working. Ophelia glanced up, vaguely startled. "Scrambled eggs at two in the morning?" "It's eight-thirty, babe." "Oh, shit- have I really been working all night?" Now that she'd been pulled from her hyperfocused trance, the exhaustion hit her like a speeding train. "Yeah. Maybe try to get some sleep?" Peter urged, setting a warm hand on her shoulder. "No promises," Ophelia shot back, "But I'll try to wrap this up. Thanks for breakfast."

Jasper:

"Ugh," Jasper mumbled, splashing a bit of cold water on his face in an effort to ward off his exhaustion. He'd been pulling late shifts at the hospital, hoping to scrape a few extra bucks after Kyle's work laptop had decided to kick the bucket. Speak of the devil - Kyle ducked his way into the bathroom, giving his partner a squeeze and a kiss to the top of his head as he passed. He stretched to grab his toothbrush, brown doe-eyes still a little bleary with sleep. "I don't feel like making breakfast." Jasper sighed. Kyle smiled. "Café du Monde?"

Quinn:

"Coffee is not breakfast." "Coffee is close enough," Quinn muttered, tugging their mug a little closer and shooting Billy a firm look, "Don't have an appetite anyway." "You want me to make you a bagel?" Billy persisted, already wandering towards the kitchenette. "What part of I don't have an appetite didn't make sense the first time?" "Made perfect sense, Q." he responded, briskly grabbing a bagel from the bread box - why did One have a bread box in the twenty-first century? - and slicing it in half, "But I speak fluent Quinn, and I know you'll feel better after you eat."

Katherine:

The break room in the museum was already awfully small, but it felt even more cramped with the press of a dozen bodies around her. Even Rexy, drawn by the scent of sizzling bacon, had attempted to press her bony snout through the door. Katherine was half-tempted to tell the more waxen-inclined to scram, under the guise that they'd melt from the heat of the stove. She restrained herself. Pancakes at midnight. It sounded like something she'd have dreamed about as a kid. But when they weren't awake in time for a real breakfast... she improvised. "Who wants chocolate chips?"

Kestrel:

They were awoken to the heavenly smell of crackling sausage and percolating coffee. From the kitchen, they heard Warren humming under his breath. Kestrel smiled to themself. They slid off the bed and reached for their robe, tucking the soft fleece around themself. It was mornings like these that they always felt the most at home - waking up to a home-cooked meal, wrapped in soft fabrics and about to go greet their lover with the sunrise shining in through the windows... For as much as they loved the excitement in their life, there was nothing that quite compared to this.

Eris:

"Okay, so that one's... a little crispy." Rick chuckled, tossing Eris' blackened French toast onto a plate with a lopsided smile, "Try again." "It's fine, I'll still eat it." Eris insisted, reaching for the plate, "Don't want to waste food." Rick got there first, and upended the plate into the trash can before Eris could take it. The slice of toast - effectively charcoal, if they were being honest - tumbled out of sight. "This is not the fourteenth century," Rick said, reaching for the container of cinnamon on the counter, "This cost me four dollars. You can try again, I promise."

Nikoletta:

"I know you don't feel well, hon, but could you please try to eat something?" Nikoletta asked, speaking as softly as she could manage. She slid onto the bed, reaching to pass her fingers through Abner's dark, sweat-dampened hair. "Want me to make you some toast?" He offered her a faint nod, all hollowed eyes and pallid cheeks. He hadn't eaten since the prior day's lunch, sick with a flare-up of the same virus that gave him his dots. "You know you'll... you'll have to do this again. I'll get sick again." "I'll still be here. We've been through worse."

This was actually really fun! It's made me realize, looking at it all in these side-by-side snippets like this, how different the tones of my fics really are when you put them all together. Cool!

[spuddy-potat]

hiiiii im in a really weird headspace so heres that unfinished oc snippet i was talking about earlier 🫶🫶

please note: this is very much unpolished and barely presentable (no capitalization and spotty punctuation at best bc i wrote most of this while half asleep) so there are probably a lot of things i can improve on- feel free to give feedback!

It's Not Always All Roses

word count: 926

characters: professor jensen, junichi yamamura

content warning: power dynamic, mild cursing

when junichi passes by jensen's office again he is only slightly surprised to see the man slumped over his desk, shaking with effort. he's got his long hair pulled to the side, exposing the back of his neck in a rather tantilizing manner. junichi lets himself in without so much as a knock, reaching to place a hand on jensen's neck. another migraine, surely. 

he quickly draws it back when he finds a sickly heat radiating from his skin, unable to stifle the small gasp that escapes his throat. 

"christ you're burning up..." he says almost to himself. 

"i'm just.... a little warm......." it comes out as almost a whisper, interlaced with heavy labored breaths. even with his face buried in his arms junichi can now see the angry flush that paints jensen's skin.

"clearly it's worse than that. stand up then, i'll take you to my office." he says it with a cold sternness that seems to make jensen shiver.

"n... no please.... 'f i stand right now i.... i think i'll faint....." he certainly sounds that way. he hasn't even looked up yet but junichi can picture his pained expression with ease. despite himself, he places a hand flat on jensen's back, hoping to ground the man a bit as he breathes through what must be a gnarly dizzy spell. soon enough, the moment passes and jensen lets some of the tension fall from his shoulders, though he still has a hand tangled in his hair. 

"why did you even come into work today if you knew you were this sick." removing his hand from jensen's back, junichi says it as a demand instead of a question.

"hnnn.... i was close to finishing that project.... i thought i could at least do that"

"well? have you?" junichi almost wishes jensen would sit up and look at the disappointment bordering on disgust on his face.

".......no."

"thats what i fucking thought."

jensen shifts uncomfortably.

"s-sorry...." 

"look at me when i'm talking to you."

he complies, trembling more now than when junichi first found him. as expected, there is a sickly red flush across his cheeks, layered messily atop a pallor junichi has become all too familiar with lately.

"i th.... i thought i could finish it today..... b-but i couldn't f...focus..... i'm sorry......."

"stand up."

despite everything, junichi offers an arm for support. once again, jensen complies and almost immediately collapses against junichi's shoulder. it's a familiar position, one they would assume any time jensen had a migraine or his knees gave out. in this way he can feel the vicious heat that pours off of jensen's body.

it tugs at that feeling of pity that lies tucked away in the back of his mind. he almost considers just taking him home then and there, but... the urge to teach him a lesson prevails. he presses his hand into the base of jensen's ribcage and savors the tiny whimper that escapes him, barely audible as if through a failed attempt to stifle the noise. 

"come on now, lets get you to my office before you collapse again." 

"y...yes sir....."

they make it about halfway to his office when jensen is overtaken by a sudden coughing fit that threatens to drag him down to his knees. junichi fights to keep the taller man upright, placing his other hand on jensen's shoulder to steady him.

it takes a good few moments for the fit to pass and jensen looks barely conscious by the end of it. typical.

"god you're a pain..." junichi says mostly to himself, not fully intending to have said it out loud.

"'m-mmm... s...sorry...." jensen manages through aching breaths in a tone that almost pleads 'just leave me here on the floor.'

eventually he recovers enough for them to continue, albeit at a much quicker pace led by junichi this time.

the second they enter junichi's office he practically drops jensen onto the couch, frustration getting the better of him.

this almost immediately throws jensen into another brutal coughing fit. he turns onto his side and curls in on himself, shaking the whole way through as tears begin to form at the corners of his eyes shut tight.

junichi sighs against the pit that has begun to form in his chest. he kneels down beside jensen, reaching out a hand to gently rub his arm in a comforting manner as the fit passes. jensen is still trembling from head to toe, the tears now slipping down his cheeks as he sheepishly opens his eyes to look up at junichi.

"hmm you really aren't feeling well, huh?" he takes on an uncharacteristically gentle tone as pity finally wins over frustration.

"s-s... i'm sorry i sh.... should have called in today, i... i woke up and kn-knew i was sick but.... i came in anyway and m-made it worse......" it's almost strange to see him like this, perfectly candid and obedient. junichi's gut twists.

"shhhh... it's alright now. i have some work i need to finish up here but i want to take you home early so you can rest. i'll let you cool down in here for a while until you're feeling a little better, alright?"

despite himself, he draws his hand down the side of jensen's too-hot face, brushing away one of the stray tears that had made its way down his cheek. jensen seems to melt into the touch, like it's the first tender caress he's gotten in years (maybe it is...)

"yes sir...."

the scolding could wait, junichi decides.

[mako-and-tails-and-stuff]

Femslash Feb 2024 Day 1

Prompt - Black

Pairing - Rita/Veridia

Words - 393

Rating- G

Everytime Veridia thought she had gotten used to her wife’s habits, something always came up. Whether it was a new cat sitting on the couch waiting for her, the entire house decked out in decor for whatever land holiday was coming up, or her wife’s sudden urges to re-decorate everything.

It was the bathroom last month. Rita had made some comment about how she didn’t like the bathroom paper anymore. Two days later the Mermaid had stripped the entire bathroom and was in the middle of hanging new paper when Veridia found her. It was nice, but the room was perfectly nice beforehand as well.

She had tried increasing Rita’s class load and asked her to help with some of the specialty potions classes to try and minimise these instances but all it lead to was Rita painting the bedroom ceiling to match the wall at 2am. So she gave up.

Today was no exception to the sudden urge to complete a project the exact day she thought of it. The smell of paint hit her as soon she walked in. She found Rita on her knees painting the hallway radiator a shiny black.

“What now?” Veridia asked, leaning against the door frame, she couldn’t stop the amusement creeping in her voice as Rita turned around and stood up. Black shorts splattered in remnants of all projects, and splashed of black paint right down her legs and all over her hand.

“I’m doing the woodwork black. That doorway’s still wet by the way.”

Veridia instantly took her weight off but it was too late, a long black streak now marked her sleeve.

“Sorry?” Rita offered and stepped in to place a kiss on Veridia’s cheek.

“What brought this on?”

“I wanted to paint the hall then decided I wanted black woodwork because I saw some amazing inspiration photos online. I’ve done all the skirting boards, door frames and handrail. Just this radiator now.”

Veridia looked about as Rita listed off each item and sure enough each one was now a satin black.

“You got paint all over you.”

Rita shrugged,” I always do. You fancy helping?”

“I’ll leave you too it. I don’t trust you and paint since you initiated a paint fight.”

Rita laughed, “that was three years ago.”

“And you still have that orange paint on your shorts.”

“So I do.”

[expansivecoding]

Asirpa looked around the shrine in small wonder, the stout woman taking in all the small details and trying to decipher their meanings. She liked this place, unlike the rest of the city this place actually understood how to be quiet and peaceful. As she walked further in her keen ears picked up on the sound of crunching. At first, she thought maybe someone had stepped on a twig, though that may have been her hunter upbringing painting her view. She heard it again and decided to follow the noise, eventually coming across its source, Asirpa found an incredibly beautiful shrine maiden, in the middle of eating a small bag of chips. A blush spread across her face for but a second before it subsided. The short woman gave a nod and decided to approach. "Hello there. Sorry, I just wanted to say that you've done a wonderful job maintaining this shrine." She also held back the urge to call the other 'beautiful' as that may have been a bit much.

The pudgy shrine 'maiden' was Luka. Taking a break from his tasks, he was enjoying a large bag of chips. Eating in peace, he was quite relaxed though had little idea he had been spotted by a visitor to the quiet area of the shirne. At a glance and of course, not knowing Luka, one would fall into the common mistake that he was a she. Even chubby as he was, dressed like a miko, he certainly came across more feminine.

Though, admittedly, these days Luka didn't mind it. Mind opened to new ways of presenting and being, he was debating on what he wanted to be. Well, not today anyways but in general. The sudden voice startled him, making him wobble as he quickly got to his feet.

"H-huh? Oh. Thank you... We work hard.. urrlpp.. Oh excuse me.." he mumbled, burping softly into his hand as he tried to be modest though he was already blushing.

[xylomane]

Hi!! Quick little message, sorry for the long break! Update: I just really got busy and lost 50/50 to Qiqi on Nahida banner so I didn't get her but I got ayato but then instead of Haran I got Ei's purple spear. Have fun with my suffering as an F2P. Anyway for the long break, I decided to write a cyno x reader with a twinge of jealous, protective, and caring Cyno (no smut for now lmao). (This'll be part one, there's gonna be a part two so wait—) I just love him sm although he tortures criminals :3 I'll be making long charac x readers like this one but they are considered short fics since I've probably seen longer ones. I hope you like it!!! I might also start making ship fanfics! Btw bonus character involvement here: Alhaitham <3333 Enjoyyyyy <3333333 Always remember that you matter and you have so much more good things to experience in your life! This'll be my christmas gift to you! If you feel like reading it ofc (❁´◡`❁) Part 2 out now! Here

Daybreak, yolk of warmth rises, and the clock above Cyno's bedside table beeps on cue. The moon's counterpart had taken over the horizon and Cyno knew it the moment his eyelids fluttered to the stabbing ray of sunlight through the white blinds. The opening of another day has invited him to wake. With acceptance, he sat himself up, a sensation of burning excitement building up in his stomach. Whatever today holds set the young scholar eagerly looking forward.

The usually time-efficient scholar Cyno couldn't simply dilly dally in his day, in fact, it barely even exists in his routines and vocabulary. Perhaps to him the hands of clocks move faster that a simple five minutes of idling affects the time for his other activities like a trail of knocked-down dominoes. A short time spent for meaningless dawdle would only affect his time to finish his homeworks, pushing the weariness caused by day further through the night where silence sends him asleep. But just staring at the blazing morning sun from his opened bed window had him feeling the sudden urge to sit for a while, having time to notice this strange tranquility and wonderment he always felt every morning, as birds flew by the blue sky canvas and hearing their songs as the winds stroked his face.

Such a pleasant and delightful greeting of nature to him, birds chirping and one even landing by his window sill. Everything is as peaceful as it should be, like a golden Paris morning. Cyno couldn't believe that he never stopped himself every morning to admire such an experience. Why did he never stop to take a peaceful break? He sighed, leaving the thoughts behind. What was once adoring a peaceful moment became a time to think of somebody special.

Cyno couldn't help wondering, "How does his friend wake up with such a view? What must they be doing now? Are they still asleep?" Your existence in his life has affected him immensely. Now he just couldn't go about his day without thinking of you. Perhaps, you must be getting ready—preparing to wear that plain ol' hoodie of yours, ruffling your hair into a mess for supposed volumes, and picking that perfect scent that never fails to turn him on. An attracting aroma, indeed. Cyno inhaled the fresh morning air as if the scent was really there but then, he ends up shaking his head to full wake, deciding to finally wave the reverie away—he should be getting ready too. The idling scholar brings a hand to scratch his disarranged silver hair, closing the short break to an end, and making his way to the kitchen.

~~~◊▪◊▪◊~~~

Sunny side-up, golden rice, and a few cuts of fish meat on his plate. Cyno swallowed down a bite as he stared at his phone. Opposite of him is the always empty wooden chair, painted gold by the sunrays through the window. The sight of it empty had his mind desperately picturing you on it, the atmosphere of your smile, the spark of sheer joy in your loving gaze, and the lovely tune of your voice. He would play cards with you, wanting to watch you flip cards and shouting hoorays or grunting your disappontments in defeat as you play against him. He bet it'd be a fun challenge for him once you get used to his tricks. What if he wins over you and then suddenly you'd give it to him back—like a clever backfire?

Cyno shook his head. If that happens, his cheeks would burn red with embarassment the entire game... But it would also be very impressive of you, doing great with only a few matches. It seems you've got quite some talent with cards.

Looking down at his food, the remaining portion is still half many. Cyno's eyebrows furrowed at the new unlikely hobby as he stared confusedly at his unfinished meal. All those daydreaming as time ticked away... and he hasn't even finished his food yet, what a waste of time. What is he doing?! Daydreaming leisurely or without a care for time is such a seldom thing to happen to him but it's a rather strange day today... For some reason, he suddenly felt too lazy to have himself follow his usual proper routine. He even somewhat felt disappointed for himself, but he'll let himself slide for now since it rarely happens anyway. Cyno brings a hand down to his pocket, grabbing his phone, and opening social media to pass time for a bit.

Scrolling through his phone, Cyno skipped posts—fragments of captured moments, smiling strangers, random news... and then... he stumbles upon an image of you.

He took it all in. The strands of your hair, outlines of your face, that smile that makes him blush even more. Cyno cracked a smile at it before typing in a comment, showering as much subtle praises as he can. He didn't know how else he could express his love for you aside from a few hints but if it is to raise your confidence a little higher, he doesn't mind.

'You look great. <3 Please never let that smile fade, I love your smile.' He typed in.

Cyno sent the comment successfully. His phone made a cling and a checkmark on his screen informed that his comment has been posted, it made his heart skip a beat. Cyno couldn't help but chuckle slightly to himself at the silly reaction.

The little heart on his comment is something Cyno liked the look of so much, even though he felt shy to admit it to anyone and to himself. The idea of putting it there came from you. You always sent him that heart at almost every end of most of your messages. 'Hello Cyno! <3' 'Hey Cyno! How have you been doing lately? I'm doing great! Can you help me with my history notes if ur not busy? No pressure ofc <3' 'Don't forget to take care of yourself! <3333'

It makes him feel feelings he is very well scared and aware of.

Finally having the urge to look at the time, Cyno looked at it on his phone. 30 minutes before classes start. Hey... it's not that—No, he should be going to school now. What made him stall like this? You really made an impact to him, huh.

The woolgathering scholar, still sitting on his dining chair with a person in mind, just couldn't help replaying all your lovely phrases. But when time finally worried him enough, he reluctantly stands up, reminding himself that the faster he moves, the closer he is to seeing you. Cyno quickly headed to the bathroom for an ice-cold bath.

~~~◊▪◊▪◊~~~

Cyno closed the gates and headed out. Black hoodie and earphones on, Butterflies playing on loop as he stuffed his phone in his pockets.

I won't stop getting butterflies~ I get 'em every time, I look into your eyes~

Cyno hummed the tune, aware he's alone on the road, someone pictured before him as he reached the intersection. Their hair bounces as they take each step, and the winds tangle their fingers at a few strands. Their hand suddenly reaches to fill in the gaps of his own, like branches meant to be intertwined as they walked and the figure in his head smiles so brightly that nothing else mattered in his view except their face. Your touch traced his palms with warmth and he tried to feel it as soon as he clasped his hand into a fist. Just imagine how well your hand would fit in his... it would feel so good. The underlying question is...

...when?

You won't stop running through my mind For the rest of both our lives You give me butterflies And I keep on getting Butterflies~

Up on a bus and the light of day poured over his face as he sat beside a window with open curtains. 'What a day...' His mind grumbled. Almost half the time he spent thinking is only about you and the bugging existence of time. He stared out onto the blurring street as the bus zoomed ahead on the road, the longing for you to be by his side gnawing constantly at the back of his mind. You could put your head on his shoulder and sleep at the quietness of this bus, morning gold all over your face and he would stare at your pretty eyelashes. Your presence close to him is enough to make him feel at peace and contented... If only—Ugh. Cyno buried his face in his hands. He should stop feeling like this. It's only going to make him more disappointed that you're not even his yet. He just wants you to be his and this wish is slowly eating him whole.

Cyno opened his eyes as he put down his hands to his lap. At this point, you being in his life and living in his head rent free is both a blessing... and a curse. Being hoplessly inlove sure has its pain.

The music went on, but then Cyno finds himself not listening. He has been thinking, what if... what if you started having a crush on somebody else? Like... if it's not him but maybe one of his friends? Would he be able to survive knowing it? He looks up at the bus roof and imagines your bright smile being for someone else to own, his gut wrenches at the idea of it. What if that figure in his mind one day disappears? As if... he never loved them? What if after he admits to you that he loves you, you become disheartened and leave him? Then the buds of love wither away into oblivion... Cyno closed his eyes.

Dark. If one day he would no longer see that smile as something meant for him... His world would feel dark. Strange. Unusual. Lonely. Having not a place in his mind and his life for you at the future... it would feel so wrong. Like something's missing and the feeling is just so unfamiliar to him. He might be being overdramatic to himself but it's the most sincere he can get about his feelings. It's better to be honest than confuse oneself with one's own feelings when it comes to love. He wouldn't dare face the consequences.

Cyno felt himself torn into two sides, he could allow you to love somebody else for your better but. But... if he has a chance, he'll stay by you. He can't tell for now. But one thing's for sure, he won't stop loving you. And that's a problem if you reject him.

'12 minutes before classes start', Cyno mutters to himself the moment he opens his phone. Thank goodness there's no traffic. He'll reach you by anytime now and the strange excitement building up in his stomach is getting wilder than ever. Cyno tried to discipline his body not to do stupid things but just the sight of you sends him crazy, even if he was imagining it.

~~~◊▪◊▪◊~~~

It didn't take long for the bus to finally reach Cyno's school. The moment he saw the signature white and blue walls of it at a distance behind a cluster of trees, he has already began walking through the bus aisle, ready to go down. Cyno deeply regretted wasting his time at home and had he been here early, he would've had 30 minutes of chatting with you. Maybe not all of it was a waste of time though, especially when he commented on your photo. That's actually spending time wisely for him.

When you walk into the room I'm as nervous as the day I met you~

Cyno panted heavily up the school stairs as his feet quickly dragged him towards you with the second verse of the song playing on his red-tinted ears. He stopped himself before the gates and the pebble floor tiles to breathe—bending himself down, catching his breath and as Cyno straightened himself, he saw it there. The very person he feels so excited for, the smile he very much cherishes, and that presence... the way your gaze meets his... those sleepless nights.

The bright light of the morning sun blinded him for a few seconds so he squinted at your sweet infectious smile.

"Cyno!!!" You cried happily, going up to him to give him one tight bear hug. That smile, the feeling of stomach butterflies... Cyno went stiff.

~~~◊▪◊▪◊~~~

Cyno's stomach burst with funny feelings. The way you smiled at him—so cheery and when you put your arms around his waist— He felt bashful. He opened his arms for you and your body closed around his, his heart battling to come out of his chest. Cyno prayed you don't feel it while hugging him.

Cyno returned the warm welcome by hugging you back. The feeling of your body warmth against his own... Cyno blushed. This feeling is sending him nervous, almost close to an inner panic. He hesitated, is it really alright to hug you like this? Doubts suddenly formed in the corners of his mind, questions voicing out his inner anxiety. Cyno asked himself, is this hug really fine? Especially that it's clearly not just a hug for him. It's like feeling your body extremely close to his. What if you won't like him if this is how he reacts with your hugs? Does he really deserve to fall in love with his unaware best friend? Isn't that painful to the person he just shared an intimate friendship with? But now's not the time. Cyno thought the better of it and decided that better cherish the small moment before it fades. Relax now. R e l a x , he told himself.

Cyno burried himself into your shoulder, ready to smell your signature scent—Hm? What was that?— Cyno buried himself deeper onto your clavicle. 'It's... something new.' Cyno thought. He sniffed the scent, it smelled like a masculine perfume and a twinge of... lime fragrance? It smells so good but it's definitely not your signature scent. Has that cologne ran out? Cyno looked at the fabric of your hoodie only to realize that this is not even the color of the hoodie you always wear. It looked... oddly bigger than you before you hugged him but it probably wasn't that obvious earlier because the sunlight had been blinding him. Something feels off here... Cyno's senses suspected.

Just when he started feeling that he has had enough and the hug was beginning to become suspiciously longer than you had anticipated, he let loose from the hug but didn't let go, his eyes gazing overhead, only to see a shadow blocking the sunlight. And then he realized something.

There's... another something.... something serious... that even Cyno couldn't help feeling gut wrenched to besides a hard question in an exam. Jealousy. When he realized who was blocking the sunlight, further paces away from him, he felt the gut wrench.

It's not because the man before him that you must've been talking to before he arrived here is quite the rational and attractive man, or because he seemed to have more manly display. It's not any of that. It's because he's none other than the sly, untrustable, and mysterious Alhaitham. Why is he here? Did you two talk to each other? Why would you talk to somebody like him? Do you trust him? For what reason? What kind of mission has this man involved you in? Cyno couldn't help but keep his mind occupied by buzzing questions of confusion. And as it was happening, his gaze sharply meets the other scholar's. But of course, Alhaitham doesn't seem fazed.

Sharp stares are just another one of Cyno's old tricks and Alhaitham still vividly remembers that same day he met those eyes when Cyno and him went against each other during a supreme student government debate. Should he tell you the story? Alhaitham chuckles to himself. The glaring scholar before him hated every bit of that small smile. He really hated not arriving early now.

**To be continued**

[bakedbakermom]

Stained

Chapter 3: Smolder // start at the beginning

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

Honestly I am so pleased with this chapter. The dialogue, the characterization, the Vibes. If you read only one chapter of this fic, let it be this one.

smolder verb 1. to burn with little smoke and no flame 2. to exist in a suppressed state --- Conversations with dead people.

Four hours later, the coffee was long gone, and the heavy bags of snacks were reduced to nothing but wrappers and a scattering of crumbs. Xander, predictably, was snoring in the corner, Anya's head in his lap; she kept muttering in her sleep, and each time he would soothe her with a pat on the head, without either waking up. Tara and Willow had moved to the store’s loft, reading aloud to each other in shifts to keep awake.

Buffy had left for patrol shortly after midnight—“Not every vamp is as charming as you, Mulder,” she quipped as she loaded a crossbow into her bag—and Giles had gone home to comb through his library and check in with a few contacts on the other side of the world who would just be waking up. Spike at one point simply stood up and left, his leather jacket flapping behind him like the wings of a giant bat—a move Scully was sure he had practiced—and vanished into the night.

Even Mulder was slumped in his chair, dozing. She had rummaged up a blanket from the training room at the back of the shop, hoping it wasn’t somehow cursed, and tucked it in around him. He barely managed to mumble a “Thank you,” before drifting back to sleep.

Scully had spent so long staring at a scroll in a language she couldn’t even pronounce, let alone read, that the boxy little symbols were starting to make a worrying kind of sense; like a Magic Eye painting, if she let her eyes relax and her focus drift, they almost looked like tiny monsters.

She leaned back, her head swimming with a sudden exhaustion that bordered on delirium. She hadn’t slept more than three consecutive hours since they had landed in this sun-baked hellmouth, spending her days falsifying reports and medical records for Skinner to explain her and Mulder’s continued absence—given their track record, him being grievously injured on the job was a decent cover story—and her nights up to her neck in legends she still could only half-believe. All the coffee and junk food in the world couldn’t save her from the consequences. Her eyes felt gummy in her skull, her nose was clogged with the grime of thousand year-old books, and the room itself seemed to contract and swelter around her. She lurched to her feet, fighting back nausea, and rushed toward the back door.

The night air hit her like a wave and she gulped down its soothing chill again and again until the urge to hyperventilate or vomit had passed. Slowly the darkness receded from the edges of her vision and the bile eased back down her throat. She pressed her fists into the small of her back and arched her spine, releasing several satisfying pops.

“Tasty thing like you shouldn’t be out here alone in the dark.”

Scully whirled around to face the darkness at the mouth of the alley, her gun drawn and aimed toward the source of the voice before she was even conscious of moving. A lean figure hunched against the wall.

“Might get snapped up by something dangerous.”

The figure inched forward into the light from the street lamp. Pale skin, white-blond hair, absurd leather jacket. She sagged with relief, hands shaking as she holstered her weapon. “Spike. You scared the hell out of me. Have you been lurking there all night?”

“Oh no, I’ve been lurking lots of places. A regular lurk-about, that’s me.” He swaggered down the alley and dropped dramatically onto the step in front of her. “Pull up some concrete, pet. I’ve got a few hours before I risk a serious sunburn, and I’ve got a fresh pack of coffin nails.”

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his long, black coat and used an unnecessary amount of flourish to light one with a silver Zippo. When he saw her look of vague disgust, he only shrugged. “What? It’s not like they’re gonna kill me.”

She huffed out an exhausted laugh, shaking her head at the sheer absurdity of her life as she sat down beside him. “Are you going to share that or what?”

“Pretty sure you’re not immortal, love.”

“There’s some debate about that, actually, but at this point I’m too exhausted to care.” She held out her hand and he passed her the cigarette, the ember of its tip glowing in the gloom.

“Possible immortality, is it? Funny, your man never mentioned that.”

“You guys talk about me a lot? In between shots of plasma, I mean.”

“Actually, Mulder talked about you pretty much all night. Scully this. Scully that. Scully, Scully, Scully. Do you even have a first name?

She took a deep drag from the cigarette, the smoke curling from her parted lips in delicate spirals. “Dana.”

“Lovely name for a lovely lady,” he said, taking it back.

“And what about you? I can’t imagine your mother looking down at her beautiful, bouncing, peroxide-blond baby boy, and proclaiming you Spike .”

He paused for a beat, considering her, then smiled a charmingly crooked smile and held out one pale hand. “William.”

They shook. The cold, dry flesh of Spike’s hand was almost beginning to feel normal.

“So, William, what exactly did Mulder say about me?”

“Sorry, pet. There’s a code. Like a bro code, but for fangy folk. ‘Dead men tell no tales’ or what have you.”

The dead were walking. A thousand-year-old ex-demon was napping on her boyfriend’s lap in the next room. She had fed her partner from her own veins. And an actual vampire was sitting next to her, quoting Treasure Island . Or possibly the Disneyland ride. Scratch normal , her life was a damned B-movie. An hysterical giggle bubbled up in her throat, and she covered it with a cough as she blew out another puff of smoke.

Spike either didn’t notice her small existential crisis, or else chose to politely ignore it. “I will tell you he feels bloody awful about what he did before he got all resoulified. Man’s only got a handful of bad deeds under his belt, but he’s got guilt for centuries.”

Scully’s memories of that night rattled loudly in the locked box of her mind she had crammed them into. She did not, would not, let them out. “I imagine you understand a little bit about that.”

“Not exactly. Don’t get me wrong, I was evil with a capital E, cutting a bloody swath across the continents for nearly two hundred years. And I enjoyed the hell out of it. Honestly not sure I ever would have stopped on my own, but I didn’t exactly get a choice. I don’t really spend a lot of time beating myself up about it, though.”

Scully arched a brow in curious surprise. “Your soul doesn’t torment you with grief during your every waking moment and drive you to desperate acts of penance?”

He laughed. “Been talking to Giles, have you? Sorry love, I’m not one to wax poetic about souls. Mostly because I haven’t got one.”

Mulder had told her Spike was reformed; the soul part she had just assumed. If he couldn’t feel guilt or remorse, what kept him from ripping out her throat? She froze, cigarette halfway to her lips, wondering if she should scoot away or reach for her gun again.

“Relax, Red. I’m not gonna hurt you. Actually, I can’t. See, a little while back, bunch of your government boys got the brilliant idea to do a little science project involving those of us who go bump in the night. Some got all Frankensteined up into proper bloody monsters; other lucky buggers like yours truly got our eggs cracked open and fancied up with some shiny new hardware.” Despite his clever delivery, his tone was bitter. “I can still rough up anything decently scaly or slimy, but all you soft, tasty humans are a one-way ticket to screaming bloody agony.”

She took a long moment to process that, the cigarette passing back and forth between their hands; when the filter began to burn, he lit another.

“I might know something about what it’s like to be subject to behavior modification via implanted technology at the hands of covert government agencies abducting non-consenting, vulnerable populations for the purpose of experiments involving nonhuman biological materials.”

Spike took a long moment to process that .

“All right,” he said finally, “I’ve decided I like you, so I’ll tell you the truth: souls seem like a whole lot of pain for not a whole lot of gain. I don’t even know that they do all that much; God knows there’s plenty of humans running around out there, souls intact, doing dirty deeds that make my skin crawl, and I know plenty of soulless fiends who are actually pretty decent people. All I know is I don’t need a soul to see how much Mulder is hurting, or how much he cares about you. If the Scoobies fail at this whole ‘cure the vampire’ quest—and I’m sorry if I’m the first one to tell you this, but they probably will, because it’s impossible, and personally I think he’d be an idiot to give up the night life anyway—but when they fail and he realizes he’s got a big lonely eternity without you staring him in the face, I’m a little bit worried he’s gonna go and get himself one hell of a tan.”

“I’m not giving up, and I’m not going to leave him.”

“Yeah, you will. If not on a plane in a few weeks, then in a pine box in a few decades.”

“So what am I supposed to do, just… not die?”

“Yeah! Exactly!”

“I don’t see how I can—”

“It’s easy. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

Scully paled, her throat bobbing as she fought down the revulsion suddenly brewing in her stomach. “You can’t mean—”

“Bitey bitey, sucky sucky, souly souly—though I think that last bit should be optional —and then you and our boy ride off into the sunset together. Well moonlight, I suppose, but you get my drift.”

Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, but no words came out.

“Just think it over, Dana,” he said softly, not meeting her eyes. For the first time, something like real vulnerability passed over his face. “Forever is a long time to be lonely.”

He rose, his swaggering mask sliding back into place so quickly she almost doubted it had ever slipped to begin with. He offered his hand to her with an exaggerated bow and pulled her to her feet. “Now come on; I don’t fancy going up in flames today, and I bet Spooky doesn’t either.”

—

Dawn’s rosy fingers were just brushing the horizon when Mulder and Scully arrived back at the motel. She felt the light running over her skin like a living thing, gentle as a lover; he shrank from it as if it would strike him.

“Wanna come in for a night cap?” he asked, smirking, as they reached his door. Scully’s hand flinched involuntarily toward her neck and his eyes grew wide, then sheepish. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant. Um. Good night, Scully.”

The door was halfway closed behind him when her hand shot out to stop it. “I can come in for a minute.”

He moved to the bathroom, and she went to the kitchenette to put away the containers of cows’ and pigs’ blood they had stopped to pick up at the butcher—which, for reasons no one in town would discuss, stayed open all night. Mulder would have enough for a few days, at least, now that he was learning how to make it palatable. She left the little jar of cinnamon on top of the microwave.

Feeling oddly anxious, she began to straighten the bed just to have something to do. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in Spike’s crypt today?” she called to him. “He has cable; you can watch ‘Passions’ together.”

He poked his head out, toothbrush wedged into the foamy corner of his mouth. “That show has gone entirely downhill since Sheridan got amnesia.”

He vanished again, and Scully heard the sounds of spitting and running water. When he emerged a minute later, bare-chested and in sweatpants, he found her standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands at her sides. He slipped past her without touching her and sat on the bed. “Besides, I’d rather sleep in a bed.”

Instead of a coffin . Scully suppressed a shudder.

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile as she sat beside him and squeezed his hand. “I get the feeling his place is even less luxurious than this one. Besides: mini fridge, microwave, magic fingers. What more could a guy want?”

She tried to keep her voice light, but Spike’s words were still ringing in her head. Mulder was staring down the barrel of a miserable eternity—drinking slaughterhouse runoff, hiding his days away in the dark, watching cheesy soap operas with only the other dead for company. What if there was no cure? What if, this time, she couldn’t save him? How many times had they sacrificed everything to save each other, thrown themselves in front of bullets and monsters and the unstoppable machine of bureaucracy just to buy enough time to stagger their way to safety?

Maybe their luck had finally run out.

She stood to leave, desperate to find something else to occupy her mind, but his hand closed tenderly around her wrist, carefully avoiding the bruises he—or his monster —had made before. “Stay?”

“Mulder, I’m tired.”

“I know. Just for a little while? It’s… it’s worse when I’m alone.”

She finally looked at him, staring up at her with one of his more pathetic puppy-dog expressions, and something inside her broke. “Yeah. Okay. Just for a little while, until you fall asleep.”

He crawled beneath the covers, leaving room for her to slip in beside him. She curled up with her back facing him, hoping he would drift off quickly. That hope evaporated when she felt him shifting closer to her; his arm slipped around her waist, brushing the bare sliver of skin between the top of her pants and the hem of her shirt, and a current passed through her. She went very still, allowing him to pull her closer until they were spooned together on the little motel bed.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured close to her ear.

She tried to ignore the way her body tingled every place they touched, the way his breath skimmed over her skin, cool and wet like the promise of a storm. She hoped he couldn’t hear the way her heart began to pound beneath her ribs. “So you’ve said.”

“It’s true. I’ve always hated the cold, Scully. When I was a kid, I would turn my whole room into a blanket fort every winter. It drove my mom nuts. I’d swipe every blanket in the house and then refuse to come out for anything but pee breaks.”

Scully could just picture him, eight or ten years old, pillaging the linen closet for quilts and constructing his own personal Alamo filled with comic books and sunflower seeds. Keeping out the cold with all the power of fleece and a child’s unflagging will.

That the same cold now lived inside him, where no blanket or touch could thaw it, was another cruel twist of the knife.

“I’m not giving up, Mulder. Not when we’ve barely gotten started.”

“I won’t let you throw your life away trying to save me, Scully. How much longer are you going to stay here, up to your neck in demonology and monster manuals? How much longer can we convince Skinner I’m sick? He’s going to come looking for me eventually, even if it’s just to see if I’m fit enough for him to kick my ass back to the basement.”

She chuckled, and he smiled briefly into her hair. A moment later, his sigh sent a few red strands fluttering against her face. “I just don’t want you to follow me so far into the dark that you can’t find your way back.”

“It hasn’t even been a week yet. I’ve chased you further into the dark than this and come out just fine. And I intend to drag you out with me, into full, bright sunlight, without you crumbling to dust.”

“And if there is no cure? If I’m stuck like this forever? You still have a chance to have a life, Scully. I won’t let you waste it on me.”

She turned to face him, sadness and anger warring over her features. “Since when do you ‘let’ me do anything? It’s my life, Mulder, and I don’t consider any of this a waste.”

She didn’t want to bring it up, didn’t want to give credence to Spike’s insane idea by voicing it out loud to her partner, but she owed it to him to say something. Though her stomach clenched and she tasted acid in her mouth, she took a breath and said, “Spike thinks—”

His voice was bitter as he cut her off. “I know exactly what Spike thinks. And the answer is no. I wouldn’t do this to you. Not when you still have a choice. Not when you could go back to DC tomorrow, find some hot doctor who doesn’t question every little thing you say, and grow fat and old and happy on a sunny porch somewhere.”

She reached out and cupped his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes. She had to step carefully here; they had developed a delicate dance together through the years, an unspoken rule to tiptoe around their equally unspoken connection, that thing between them neither could quite acknowledge let alone act upon, but had lately found increasingly hard to ignore. Especially when his face was inches from hers, and his arm still lay heavy across her waist, on that nebulous border where it could so easily slide into risky territory. “And if I decide I don’t want that?”

“There are some… conditions on this soul of mine, Scully. It’s not a done deal. I could lose it.”

“What? How?” And why haven’t you told me before now?

“If there ever comes a moment where I am completely happy, where I don’t feel guilt and torment about who and what I am, it goes away.”

“Don’t be vague, Mulder. Not about this.”

“The last time it happened… was right after the guy slept with the woman he loved.”

A lump welled up in her throat. “Oh.”

“Yeah. We’re not idiots, Scully.” She raised her eyebrow at him and one side of his mouth tugged up in a small smile. “Okay, you’re not an idiot, and I am sometimes only idiot-adjacent. We know what we mean to each other. If you stayed with me…” He flopped onto his back, staring up at the water-stained ceiling; he couldn’t get through this if he was looking into her eyes, but he did reach between them and take her hand. “If you stayed human, and we… then I lose my soul, and there’s a good chance that the last thing you’d ever see is me killing you. And then Buffy puts a stake through my heart. And not that I am in favor of this idea, but if we turned you and we… then we both lose our souls, we’d probably wind up killing a bunch of people, and then Buffy puts a stake through both our hearts.”

He paused for a long moment, breath shaking. “I don’t know if there is a way out of this together. And I want you to know, I’d rather you leave me than stay behind and pay for what I’ve become.”

She grabbed his face again, this time more forcefully, and turned him back toward her. Her voice and her eyes were filled with tears, but also a steely resolve. “There is a way, Mulder. There has to be. We’re going to find it. When have we ever given up on each other?”

His fingers twined around hers where they rested against his cheek. Slowly he pulled them to his mouth, brushing a gentle kiss across her knuckles. Neither spoke—what words could he say to the unstoppable force of her hope, or she to the immovable object of his self-sacrifice? They simply held each other, wishing they could keep out the cold.

A/N: It's incredibly rare for me that something I make turns out as well as I'd hoped, but this chapter is one of those things, and I'm rather proud of it. I so enjoyed writing it, particularly Scully and Spike's conversation. It was one of those unexpected surprises that pops up when characters grab the steering wheel, like I was just along for the ride. I hope they're BFFs now. Believe me there is absolutely a part of me that wants to see Vamp!Mulder and Vamp!Scully as some sort of undead Bonnie and Clyde, leaving a trail of bloody and beautiful devastation in their wake. But that's not this fic lol. Comments laminated etc etc