#alan would let him and insist no one clean it

[tethered-heartstrings]

new favorite theory

[pinkaditty]

Who's Passing NNN? Tokyo Debunker Pt 2

this is SO cliche i know. please. let me... have this...

a/n: 2 posts in less than 24 hours!?!?! yes!!! enjoy, please. im kinda proud of these. not even gonna tell y'all how i am bc u already know. quick disclaimer that i write these under the assumption the tokyo debunker boys are at least 18 years old. they appear to be present at a university considering there are professors and a chancellor. not to mention the boys drink, smoke, gamble, and refer to themselves as adults. summary: part 2 of the whole 'who out of the tokyo debunker boys is passing NNN?' thing. pretty self-explanatory. cw: fictional men jorking it!!!!!! MINORS DNI!!!!!!!! not really proofread i fear Frostheim || Vagastrom || Jabberwock || Sinostra || Hotarubi || Obscuary || Mortkranken (jabberwock already written yea currently working on sinostra)

MINORS DNI AS USUAL! THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING MY BOUNDARY!

Vagastrom:

Alan Mido: Fail

NOW! Before you jump me! He failed by accident. Forgot it was November. Needed to get his rocks off after everything pissing him off for a while. Sometimes though, he manages to hold out for a while. 

He’s working on a car right now, laying on the car roller, fixing it up after an unfortunate accident while dealing with an external anomaly. He lets his thoughts wander as he fixes the car. So many things had pissed him off this week. Ishibashi needing to meet at ridiculous times, Leo being unreliable, even his grades slipping. This car was just one of them. Maybe he needed to blow off some steam. Maybe he could go for a drive? No, not enough. Spar? No, he’d already taken enough of Sho’s time. Maybe… a different way? 

A sudden itch makes itself known just as he thinks that. He stiffens under the car, clenching his jaw. None of that. He was in the garage. He had to hold it together. He shakes his head and continues working on the car, ignoring the itch. He tries to come up with other ways to blow off steam. Studying, exercising, anything. The itch grows stronger. He sighs angrily and forces his attention on the car. He was in the garage, for fuck’s sake. The itch continues and then grows into a twitch. He presses his thighs together on impulse, before realizing how that may look and coughing, spreading his legs apart again. He bites his tongue and continues fixing the car as the twitching persists. His face becomes flushed and his composure cracks just a little. He couldn’t ignore his twitching cock forever.

And, maybe it’d be a good way to blow off some steam… 

Shohei Haizono: Pass

Well. As much as it seems like he may have a crazy sex drive, and as much as I would like to subscribe to that idea, I just don’t think it’s true. He doesn’t have a strong one. That said, he hardly goes a month without masturbating. He manages, but when he goes so long without it, it can get kinda frustrating. 

There were far too many customers today, he thinks. He’d gone several days without being able to wind down, since his food truck had been so busy. He’s glad for the success, but it’s become so time-consuming. The feeling had come out of nowhere, but since the last few customers and all throughout cleaning up, he’d been feeling a little pent up. His half-hard cock pressed insistently against his pants as he wiped down the counter, ensuring it was clean before he let out an exhausted sigh. The cool night air responded with crickets chirping and some owls hooting. 

Well… There wasn’t anyone around. 

Before he knows it, he’s turned off the lights, tucked himself underneath the counter where he wouldn’t be visible, and has eagerly pulled his cock out. He can’t be bothered to care about his surroundings as he starts, biting the sleeve of his uniform to prevent himself from being heard. Unfortunately, some light, breathy groans escape through the fabric of his shirt, but the noise mingles well with the pap pap pap sound of his hand over his cock and the shuffling sound of his legs opening and closing, overwhelmed with pleasure. His body shakes as he releases, careful to catch it in his palms, not wanting to have to clean again. When clarity finally hits, he sighs and shakes his head, observing his mess. God, how many sanitation laws did he just break?

And… did he remember to close the window?

Leo Kurosagi: Pass (Miserably)

Had to be clear. Yes, he passes, but barely, and miserably so. He’s doing it for clout and he’s posting about it, too. He’s letting his fans run wild with speculation at his announcement and letting them make all the claims they want when he successfully completes it. However, I’m quite confident that the second it was December 1st, Leo couldn’t fucking stand it anymore.

November 31st, 11:59pm. He lays on his bed with a half-hard cock pressing unyieldingly against his boxers and his phone in his hand with a drafted post congratulating himself for completing NNN, ready to be sent the moment that clock hit December 1st, 12:00am. He keeps his eyes fixated on the time, letting his hand drift downwards and hold himself through his pajama pants. The time still hasn’t changed. He gives himself a light squeeze, and is shocked at the needy sigh that passes through his lips. Fuck, he just needed this time to change. He just needed this time to change. He bites his lip, keeping the pressure on his cock as he gently strokes through his pants. He shifts his legs around, progressively getting more and more antsy as he stared at the time. 11:59 still. Who knew a minute could last so fucking long? He continues stroking gently, getting himself to full mast, twitching the entire time. 

Just as he’s about to give up, the time changes. 12:00am at last. He hurriedly presses “Post” and practically tosses his phone to the side, reaching inside his pajama pants and boxers to wrap a hand around his stiffened cock. He wastes no time in stroking, surprising even himself with his needy whines and unintelligible phrases and throaty moans. He spreads his legs apart and grips his thigh with his free hand, speeding up his pace. He moans through gritted teeth before his eyes roll back and his jaw goes slack, yielding a strangled moan as he covers his hands and pajamas with his release. He allows his legs to collapse on the bed, and picks up his phone again, checking his post. 

1k likes, 200 comments. It was 12:01am. Sheesh, that didn’t take him long at all…

a/n: wowee! i spit this out at 2am yesterday and fine-tuned it 2day so enjoy. eat this. i will be back 2 post jabberwock's soon, hopefully.

note that, as per usual, i enjoy likes, comments, and reblogs!! please tell me how much you enjoyed my work!

[waynes-multiverse]

Soldier boy x breeding kink because we all know he has one 🥵🤰

@syrma-sensei

A/N: A fun one! Wasn't even surprised I got this one twice. Like lovely anon put it so perfectly, we all know that man has a heavy breeding kink, and I was all too happy to make his (and your) wishes come true. Let myself get a little inspired by the lyrics of the Zombie's song for this one 😈

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSFW, drinking, celebrity name drops, smut (rough p in v, dirty talk, breeding kink, daddy kink, spanking, slight degrading, a technical age gap), naive reader, SB being a manipulative asshole

Word Count: 1.5k

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist

Time of the Season

April 1969

“She’s too young for you.”

Soldier Boy heaves an irritated sigh at his manager’s words but keeps his sparkling green eyes stubbornly trained on the young waitress who’s currently refilling Alan Arkin’s champagne glass. “Nonsense, Legend. She’s perfect. Just fuckin’ look at her,” he huffs and nurses his scotch.

“I am,” his manager insists. “She’s too fucking young for you. You���re technically turning fifty this year. Times are changing. You can’t just wet your dick with any pussy you want anymore. That girl doesn’t look older than twenty.”

“Twenty-three, actually,” Soldier Boy smirks cunningly. “I asked around. Prime of her life.”

The Legend scoffs and shakes his head. “Why don’t you fuck someone your age, huh? Like Katharine Hepburn?”

“You’re fucking kidding, right? That fucking broad is even older than me,” Soldier Boy bites and motions down two tables to the actress in question, admiring her little golden statue. He almost won one of those himself in 1951 for his biopic – not that he needs that useless glory.

“Do you know who has to clean up your fucking mess if you go a little too rough on this poor girl again? I do! And then there’s the reporters and the tabloids…”

“I’ll be careful, okay? Trust me. Last thing I wanna do is fucking break her,” he chuckles devilishly and empties his tumbler, flagging the young waitress down for another drink.

“Yes, sir? Can I get you another one?” She smiles brightly at him, shifting nervously on her low heels.

“That would be fantastic, doll,” Soldier Boy smiles charmingly up at her, causing a red tint to haunt her cheeks. “And how about you give me your name as well and tell me when I can get you outta this boring event, hm? Someone as pretty as you surely deserves to have some fucking fun, too.”

“Wow, I’ve never been here before,” the young girl gasps with eyes as wide as the illuminated Hollywood sign on the hills when Soldier Boy shoos her into his usual suite at the Chateau Marmont – room 29. “Was that Desi Arnaz in the lobby?”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” Soldier Boy mutters disinterestedly as he shuts the door behind them and wanders to the bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch on the rocks. “Lucy’s probably nagging the shit outta him again.”

“Really? But they seem like such a lovely couple,” Y/N, that's her name, says in surprise and eagerly accepts the glass of alcohol he hands her.

“Yeah, it’s called TV, doll. It’s all fake,” Soldier Boy forces a smile to his lips and sips on his drink as he leans against the dresser across from her, raking his eyes over her exquisite, hourglass body. Nice rack, juicy ass, and perfectly wide hips with a small waist he could squeeze between his large hands. With a figure like hers, she surely wouldn’t have any trouble bearing his sons.

“It’s so crazy. I grew up in a small town in Kansas. Never imagined any of this when I came here, much less meeting someone like you,” she explains, her cheeks blushing rosy-red.

Soldier Boy only chuckles, loving that he already has this girl exactly where he wants her without putting much effort into it. “Well, sugar, it’s my pleasure. Like I said, gorgeous girl like you deserves some attention,” he coos and saunters over to the bed, sitting down next to her. His hand reaches out and gently brushes a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, practically feeling the heat radiate off her cheeks from the simple gesture.

“I’m not that pretty,” she swallows insecurely and hides parts of her face. “Why did you pick me? There were way more beautiful and more important women in that room. I saw how Brigitte Bardot looked at you the whole night.”

Ben purses his lips, shaking his head. “Nah, you have something that these whores don’t have, doll. All they want is money and fame. I’m not interested in that. I’m not even interested in that for a fuck,” he lies before mixing in the truth, “You see, what I want is a family. A nice, obedient wife to come home to after a long, hard day.”

“Wife?” Her eyes widen in disbelief, but as he expected, she isn’t appalled by the idea.

His smile widens as he strokes the apple of her cheek. “Yeah, you know? Someone who takes care of me, can give me kids, make me dinner, bake a decent pie,” he tells her.

“Really? Well, I actually make a great blueberry pie. Even won a contest in my hometown a few years back,” she informs him proudly.

“See? I knew you were the perfect girl for me the moment I laid eyes on you,” Soldier Boy grins broadly. “And I mean, I don’t wanna impose, but you’re probably sick of waitressing and working odd jobs to make ends meet at this point, aren’t you? C’mon, lemme take care of you, huh? I can give you everything you want. You want a house? A credit card? Nice clothes? I’ll make sure every dream you have comes true, baby girl.”

For a moment, Y/N chews on her bottom lip before she meets his gaze with a hopeful look shimmering in her eyes. “You mean it?”

“Of course! I’d never lie to you, my sweet girl. You can trust me. I'm America's hero, after all,” he smiles slyly and lifts her chin with two fingers, forcing her to keep eye contact. “There’s just one thing you have to do for me.”

“Okay, anything,” Y/N all too eagerly nods her agreement. “Can I just ask your real name first? I don't wanna call you Soldier Boy during, uhm...”

Soldier Boy laughs lowly. “I’ll tell you in the morning, baby girl. How about for tonight, you just call me daddy, hm?”

“Fuck, daddy! Harder, please!” Y/N moans as he has her bent on the bed, crying out on all fours for him as he fucks into her from behind. Her perky ass is high up in the air as he grips the flesh on her hips, bruising her delicate skin purple, green, and blue.

Y/N has been a bit of a very positive surprise. So much so that he’s actually considering keeping the bitch. First of all, she’s deliciously loud. Dickhead Howard Hughes has already knocked on their door twice and complained about the unbearable noise level. Secondly, Y/N’s submissive and obedient and does just about anything he tells her to do. Nothing seems too shabby or naughty for that little whore. He fucked her throat till she was choking and crying, and still, she didn’t even whine once. She’s damn responsive, too, and comes faster than lightning. And last but not least, her pussy is probably one of the tightest ones he’s ever had, and if he didn’t plan on fucking a spawn into her, he’d love to fuck her asshole as well, but he supposes that one has to wait till she’s on her period, or better yet – already round with his child.

His balls tighten at the thought alone, slapping against her cunt as his thumb furiously rubs her clit to force another orgasm out of her. He just needs one more clench of his cock before he’s ready to burst as well and coat her walls with his seed.

“You’re gonna be my little breeding bitch now, huh?” Soldier Boy prompts, his palm sharply coming down on her asscheek as he spanks her luscious flesh, both globes already burning red from his constant abuse, but damn, he just can’t get enough of that noise.

“Yes, daddy… Wanna be full of your cum,” she whimpers needily and even pushes her hips back into him to meet his thrusts.

“Such a good slut you are,” he praises her and spanks her other cheek as well. “‘M proud of you, baby girl. You’re gonna make a great mother to our sons.”

“Fuck yes!”

“Gonna come for me again, hm? Need you to come one more time when I’m deep, so I can pump that pretty pussy full of cum,” Soldier Boy groans, spearing his thick cock in and out of her abused cunt.

One last harsh pound of his hips and Y/N breaks down, her pussy violently pulsating around his throbbing length and milking him dry as she takes him over the edge with her as her orgasm ripples through her small body. An animalistic grunt leaves his throat as he shoots hot ropes of cum deep inside her.

When he feels his dick soften, he carefully lays them both down, keeping her in place and his cock in her cunt as their sweat-clad bodies stick together on the filthy sheets. She’s breathing heavily, close to passing out, as he chuckles and lays a flat palm on her lower belly, gently brushing the spot.

“Fuck, you’re gonna look so good carrying my child, baby girl,” he whispers softly into her ear.

“Thank you, daddy. You’re the best,” Y/N mumbles blissfully, her eyes closing.

Y/N’s the sixth girl he fucked raw in the last couple of months. He always tells them the same thing but ends up fucking and leaving. All he wants is to know that his DNA is living on somewhere, running around in the world out there. But honestly? Y/N’s so perfect that he might just keep this one as a side piece and fuck a million more kids into her. Maybe he'll even buy her that fucking house.

Pfff, can you tell I had fucking fun with this one? 🤣

Btw, I've decided to keep the dirty drabbles open for now, so you can keep sending them in if you have more smutty thoughts and kinks to get off your chest 😉 I already have a loooot for Dean, so Beau, Jensen, and SB especially are very welcome! There's no timeline when I'll post them. I figured this could just be a fun little idea we can keep doing in between ☺️🤷‍♀️

So, you have a kinky request? Then fill up my ask box, bitches 🖤

Tag Lists:

Everything J: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @iamsapphine

[myveryownfanfiction]

Warnings: death, mourning

AN: I’m sorry. Seven years on and it still hurts as much as when my mom texted me. /* RIP Alan Rickman

I clutched the bouquet tightly in one hand as I walked through the streets of Hogsmeade. A few people in the street eyed me as I walked past. My other hand clutched my wand under my robes. As I made it to the edge of the town, I eased my grip on both. Subtly looking over my shoulder, I made sure no one was following as I took the road up to the school. Hogwarts loomed high in front of me and I couldn’t help but feel like my throat was closing up.

when I reached the gate, I stopped. My free hand clenched. I pulled out my wand and built my bottom lip.

“Here goes nothing.” I murmured before conjuring up the last happy memory I had with Severus. It was days before the battle of hogwarts, when he had snuck away from his headmaster duties. He had fashioned a picnic and stole me away from my classes to take me on a date. The end of the picnic was turned sour by his insistence of making sure I was prepared for what was to come. I smiled softly as my favorite part of the memory came to the forefront of my mind. I kissed him to shut him up. Severus had laughed and pulled me into his lap, continuing kissing me until he was forced to return to the school. “Expecto patronum.” I whispered. My patronus appeared and nodded at me before turning to bound through the gate. I watched it disappear into the school, knowing it would go directly to Minerva. I zoned out as I waited for her to come let me in. “Hello dear.” Minerva snapped me out of my thoughts and I gave her a small, shy smile. “Come in. Do you want to stop in the castle…” I shook my head violently.

“I just need access to the grounds.” I squeaked out. She gave me a sad smile and nodded. “Just the grounds.” She gently patted my shoulder.

“If you change your mind,” she trailed off. I shook my head and flexed my hand.

“I’ll be ok.” Squeezing my shoulder, she turned and headed back up to the castle while I walked onto the grounds. Various memories kept trying to push their way to the front of my mind. I kept trying to use Occlumency to keep my mind blank. Tears pricked my eyes and I had to pause to rub them away. Reaching the lake, I waved my wand and a small boat appeared. Climbing in, I set off for the island. Once I landed, I paused in front of Dumbledores tomb to pay my respects before pushing on. “It should be…here.” I paused in front of the black tomb. The slytherin emblem etched into the stone, dark green shining in the late afternoon sun.

Leaning down, I placed the flowers I had brought in front of it. I wiped my cheeks before giving up and turning my attention skyward.

“Hello my darling.” I spoke into the air. “It’s been a while since I stopped by. I’m sorry for that.” I sunk to my knees and dug my hands into the ground, trying to find something to hold onto. “It’s been seven years. But nothing has changed. It still hurts as if it were yesterday. That’s the mark you’ve left on me I guess.” I chuckled. “The bookshop is going well. We’ve added a children’s department. As in a completely separate section of the shop. I got your potion corrections published. Number one best seller on the daily prophet list.” I wiped a tear away and laughed quietly. “I chose the most flattering picture of you. From what Minerva tells me, it will be used as required potions reading next year.” I sat in silence for a bit. “I still love you. I’ve been on a few dates but they aren’t you sev. I think I’ll love you forever.” I spent a few more minutes sitting in front of his tomb before taking out my wand and standing up. I cleaned up the area the best I could before pressing my hand to my lips and then the tomb. “I love you Severus. Always.” Wiping away the last of my tears, I cast a charm on the flowers to make them last and turned away. Taking a deep breath, I resolved myself and started my trek back home.

[tiodolma]

Adventures of Merlin vs The Devil Wears Prada

Andy, to Nate (Devil Wears Prada): I'm so sorry. I kept trying to leave, but there was a lot going on and you know I didn't have a choice. Jono (Cinema Therapy): So with my accountabilty kink, just like with any other kink. There is a wrong way to do it. Alan: (Cinema Therapy): So this non-accountability accountability? Jono (Cinema Therapy): Saying "I'm sorry" and then saying "I kept trying to leave, but I didn't have a choice," Both of those are false statements. Technically she could have left. Technically she had a choice. And the least she can do in this moment is own that. This is (all) excuses. Andy, to Nate (DWP): ...I didn't have a choice. Okay? I... Miranda asked me and I couldn't say no. Nate, to Andy (DWP): I know. That's your answer for everything lately. "I didn't have a choice." Like this job was forced on you. Like you don't make these decisions yourself. Jono (CT): No, he's right. Nate, to Andy (DWP): You know, I wouldn't care if you were out there pole dancing all night, as long as you did it with a little integrity. You used to say this was just a job. You used to make fun of the runway girls. What happened? Now you've become one of them. Andy, to Nate: That's absurd! Nate, to Andy: That's okay. That's fine. Just own up to it. And then we can stop pretending like we have anything in common anymore. -from Cinema Therapy's Toxic or Not: Andy's Friends & Boyfriend in THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA

From Adventures of Merlin

s2 Fires of Idirsholas (after poisoning Morgana) MORGAUSE: What has he done to you? MERLIN: I had to. MORGAUSE: You poisoned her! MERLIN: You gave me no choice. s3 Tears of Uther Pendragon MORGANA: Merlin. I want to speak to you. I know what you did. You tried to poison me. MERLIN (nervousIy): I didn't want to. MORGANA: It's alright, Merlin. I understand. You were just trying to protect your friends, I would have done the same. MORGANA: I was so naïve, Merlin. I don't think I really understood what I was doing. But, believe me, I have seen the evils in this world. I have seen firsthand what it is that Uther fights against. You don't know how much I regret everything that I've done. I just…hope that you can forgive me. MERLIN: I am so sorry for everything you've been through. It's good to have you back.

...yeah Merlin wasn't being accountable at all lmao

yeah just let the one you tricked and lethally poisoned be the one who apologizes to you. Seems normal behavior. He is truly the force of light love and goodness. /s

If you notice there some truth to Morgana's words. She knows that he knows what she did. She "apologized" for it and that got Merlin to lower his guard for a while. She was saying what he wanted to hear which was her being accountable for her mistakes and blunders. That's what he hoped for, Morgana "agreeing and understanding" that he was in the right to betray and poison her to death.

Even if Morgana was playing a part here.. I think a part of her was hurt that he never apologized for what he has exactly done to her (and she had given him an opening to do so, he just didn't take it).

No matter how much Merlin insists that he had no choice, Merlin had the choice whether to kill her or not. Merlin had the choice whether to betray her or not, Merlin had the choice to use her trust against her or not. Merlin had the choice whether to come clean to her about the spell or even the poison or not. Merlin had all the choices. But Merlin throughout the show was just in perpetual denial that he had those choices all along. His being a liar not only to himself but to everyone else hurt all of them.

[emma-keaton]

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: Emma Kate Keaton

Nicknames: Em, Ems, Emmy.

Gender identity/pronouns : Female/she+her

Age: 35

Orientation : Heterosexual

Marital status: Married Widowed

Place of Birth : Aurora Bay

Length in town: born and raised in Aurora

Occupation : Owner of Elegance Dance Studio

Residence: Seabrook Quarter

@aurorabayaesthetic

trigger warnings: death, grief, unplanned pregnancy, car crash

BACKGROUND

Emma Kate Keaton was born and raised in Aurora Bay, born to Christine and Alan Halsbury. Yes, the infamous Halsbury family that resides in the wealthy gated community of Aurora Bay Drive. Her family has a slew of problems they make sure to sweep under the pristinely cleaned carpet, however money was never one of them. For as long as Emma can remember and truthfully even before she was even born her father had an abundance of money in his bank account. Alan Halsbury came from money, yet at a young age he began investing in companies as soon as he got his trust fund he more than doubled it in just a few short years. Emma had never lived a life where money was a struggle, yet despite this Emma never let it affect the way she treated those around her. Naturally kind, a bit soft spoken, and witty, Emma was taught were early in life from her mother poise and elegance.

Although Emma often only saw her mother from afar, her care often relegated to nannies and workers of the home, her mother's insists on proper etiquette and care were deeply instilled. Her mother, a ballet dancer in her youth had insisted that her daughter would be placed in ballet from the moment Emma could walk. It would teach her elegance, poise, and discipline her mother would always say, yet as the other Emma got, the more she felt ballet was more so a way for her mother to place her off somewhere so her parents were free to socialize. You see the only thing Christine cared more about than poise and elegance was the connections she made with other wealthy folks in Aurora. Christine was known for throwing extravagant parties, for spending her husband's wealth on designer everything, having the best equated to being the best. So often she primped and primed Emma almost as much as she did herself.

Emma and her parents were never necessarily close, Emma did her best to stay hidden behind, spending most her days at the dance studio, it being the one place Emma felt like she could breathe. While she danced she often felt the harsh inner voice of critiques instilled from her mother would fade. Not much interested things happened until Emma at sixteen met a boy. Damian, a boy from her class with a smirk that always brought butterflies to her stomach. The two never went passed a friendship, in fear what her parents would say or do, yet Emma couldn't deny the feelings she began to feel for him. Their relationship stayed mostly platonic, with the occasionally flirty comment that always made her cheeks color. However, that all changed the summer before Emma was due to move to New York for the fall. Emma had gotten into a performing arts school and with Damian freshly off a break up she knew if they were ever going to explore their feelings now was the moment.

That summer was filled with romance that Emma had only ever dreamed of at that point, and the two fell in love fiercely and quickly. Their summer romance came to an abrupt smack of reality when Emma realized that she was pregnant. She knew before the test showed that plus sign how her parents were going to react, and she knew instantly her life was going to change forever. Her parents made it clear, either find an alternative or have the baby and have nothing to do with them, so Emma packed some pieces of luggage and that was that. It wasn't long before Damian saved up from his new job and got down on one knee. It was fast but she knew even then her family along with her future was with him. The two were married quickly after, a few months before their son was born. They never had as much as when she lived with her parents but she had never been happier.

Their marriage was filled with a lot of love, laughter, and growth in those first ten years. Despite him needing to travel often for work she found immense delight in being a wife a mother. All that tragically changed however, one night when she got a phone call that would change her life forever. A car crash, a car crash and everything she had spent years building collapsed in seconds. She was told Damian's body was too destroyed in the accident so she wasn't even able to see him one last time. To make matters even more complicated she had taken a test that very morning confirming they were in fact going to have a second. With not much options left she had to do what she never wanted to and ask her parents for help. She asked for a loan to buy the newly for sale dance studio, changed its name to Elegance Dance Studio, a nod to her mom, and began her life as a newly single mother of two.

The first four, almost five years of her daughters life were some of the most challenging, difficult, and enduring of her life. She did what she had to get by, trying her best not to dwell on the way things were. Currently she is doing her best to juggle paying her parents back, raising her children with love and attention, something her own childhood lacked, and to move past the grief of losing her husband.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

dancers at her studio

fellow parents, maybe parents of the friends of her children

her former husband's family members

a man who she has been slowly getting to know, it hasn't gone anywhere, but the are friendly

friends who helped her through her grief, or friends that she lost due to her grief?

siblings, sister or brother, or both? whether they are strained or close we can discuss.

husband taken by @damiankeaton

[sharky-chan]

“We’ll go there next time,” Ian assured him. “And I promise no more fights with street gangs.”

“No more fights with street gangs or cops,” Alan insisted, trying and failing to keep the hair out of his eyes. His ponytail band had snapped during the scuffle, leaving his hair to spill around his face in a tangled mess.

Ian shrugged. “No promises.”

Ian had taken more of a beating than Alan, but he was already up, pacing the cell and glancing through the door’s barred window, which provided their only view of the jail’s corridor. The jails of Delta 4 were clean but bare. The cell, made of concrete and stone, contained two beds, little more than glorified cots, and a covered hole in the corner presumably for excrement, but Alan had no intention of staying here long enough to use it. A few slitted windows near the ceiling allowed in light from the outside, but they too were barred.

“This is humiliating,” Alan murmured. “I hope your people get here before mine. I don’t want to have to look my coworkers in the eyes right now.”

“What?” Ian gave Alan a wry look. “Getting a bit melodramatic, aren’t you? This your first time in jail?”

“Um, yes?” Alan said with exactly as much exasperation as he intended. “And you don’t have to act like a hardened criminal, Torrens. I met your old crew, remember? From what I could see, you spent a few years committing petty crimes — nothing that would impress me.”

“C’mon, Beringer,” Ian gave Alan a playful smile. His face was dark from bruising and one eye was all but sealed shut, ruining the effect of his disarming grin. “I said I’m sorry, didn’t I? I couldn’t let them take Zyk and his crew. They’d be getting a lot worse treatment than we are. I haven’t forgotten what a dump Delta 4 is when you’re on the wrong side of the law. Zyk and I have our disagreements, but he’s a good leader. He takes care of his people. They don’t deserve what the cops would give ‘em.”

Alan humphed. He touched his own cheek, which was dressed with a large bandage. It was noble of Ian to think this way. Noble and foolish. Those two sentiments were the modis operandi for all of the Swallow’s crew on some level or another. He’d assumed Ian was the sensible one, but it appeared Alan had misjudged. Ian was sensible right up until someone got through the chinks in his armor — then all bets were off.

[quillbriar]

Thinking about how the point of origin for Alan and Nadia is the bathroom. But for Alan, it’s the bathroom in his apartment, and for Nadia, she’s so afraid of truly facing herself that it’s the bathroom at her best friend’s apartment.

She shirks away from anything remotely maternal or comforting or about brining people together. She’s not hosting her own birthday, that’s too much responsibility to face and accept (both in the sense of believing and being willing to receive) that that many people love her, or at least would care enough about her to show up. It’s easier to pretend she has no friends and to be surprised when she shows up at the party, than having to be the one that brings everyone together.

It’s established that mirrors are a point of reflection, so it makes sense that both of our players start in the bathroom—they aren’t reflecting or acknowledging that there is something wrong in how they are living their lives. But Alan has just finished taking a shower (he’s not wearing a shirt so that’s what I’m assuming has happened) and he’s brushing his teeth, symbolizing his compulsive need to be clean and over-prepared and looking like he’s put together even if he isn’t, truly, on the inside.

Nadia, we don’t even know if she washed her hands, we just know the water is running. Maybe she only turned it on so people wouldn’t bug her and she’d have a minute to herself (not working out too well, by the sounds of the insistent rapping on the door).

Just thinking about how Alan keeps coming back to his home—somewhere familiar and safe, even if gravely cold and sterile—while Nadia is somewhere warm and busy and where she is the reason for the party, but it’s not her home. It’s not her space, no matter how comfortable she is in Max’s apartment. But, honestly, she doesn’t seem that comfortable. At first she points out that it used to be a Yeshiva as a kind of cool fact, almost an armor to show off how much she knows and how intellectual yet unorthodox and anti-authority and devil-may-care she is, pun intended. Yet, as we continue to follow Nadia, we learn that she’s actually unsettled and uncomfortable with the fact that Max lives somewhere that used to be sacred and religious, it should be untouchable, but instead it’s forgotten and renovated.

So there are those differences in the two “first positions”, but also the differences in how the characters are portrayed with their hygiene. As Natasha Lyonne has said, we’ve never seen Nadia take a shower (have we even seen her brush her teeth or wash her hands?). The last difference is Alan rebooting shirtless while Nadia is wearing so much black clothing. Alan doesn’t have issues with isolating himself, he actually depends on his inner circle too much, hence the willingness to be open to other that him rebooting shirtless symbolizes. His issue is not being honest with himself, that’s an internal, personal thing. Nadia, doesn’t let people in, hence the cost and shirt and the jacket. She goes through the journey of realizing it’s okay to have people in your inner circle, it’s okay for relationships to be permanent and healthy rather than meaningless one night stands (or sexualizing self hatred, which is such a perfect Nadia quote). Alan realizes that he has to look at himself directly instead of ignoring how he feels. Sort of like the fruit being rotten on the outside but ripe on the inside, but backwards. Things look alright from an outsider’s perspective (he’s clean, he’s healthy, he’s taking care of himself), but it’s performative and he’s rotting on the inside. The same with Nadia, just different specifics. It’s easy to fool people with confidence and good looks.

Writing and thinking about all this really makes me realize how perfect the season 2 finale is, I love the final shot so much. Nadia stares back at herself, fully accepting her past and her heritage and herself, and smiling. It’s comforting and haunting and familiar yet so mature and loaded. She’s smoking and it’s a bit of a distance, a smoke screen, if you will, from the audience and possibly herself. But it’s also familiar and habitual, we can’t expect to be perfect all the time or become perfect overnight. And she just went through a really wild and rough experience, I think a cigarette is warranted.

[tveitertotwrites]

Birthday

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!OC (Claire Evans)

Word Count: 716

Summary: It's Claire's birthday and there is a lot in store for her, she thinks.

Author's Note: So today (March 3rd) is actually my birthday and I forgot that I made Claire's birthday on the same day I quickly wrote this in the last hour or so. If it is terrible, I'm sorry I just wanted to get something up for her birthday. Aslo if anyone would liked to be tagged in future stories (any of them or just for a specific open heart character or pairing) please let me know.

Waking up to an empty bed wasn't an abnormal occurrence for Claire. It was unusual to smell food cooking in the kitchen.

She got out of bed and put on one of her husbands sweatshirts from college before heading out to the kitchen. As soon as she left the bedroom, she was greeted by their dog, Jenner. Claire petted him and scratched his back before going to the kitchen.

Ethan was at the stove making breakfast while Claire wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his back. He let out a small chuckle and finished making breakfast before turning around and wrapping his arms around her.

He gave her a kiss on the lips that she returned and smiled. He then went to plate some food for them and set the plates on the table. Ethan pulled out her chair for her and kissed her forehead.

"Happy birthday angel."

"Thank you babe."

Ethan sat across from Claire as they ate. They still had to go into work today, but they were able to go in later because of her birthday.

Once they were done eating, they washed the dishes together as Claire insisted she helped with them. When they were all clean, dry, and put away, the two of them went into their bedroom to relax before they had to get ready.

Ethan was laying his head on Claire's stomach while she played with his hair. They had found out the week before that she was pregnant and they were ecstatic. Whenever they had free time at the hospital or just some time to relax at home, Ethan would be gently laying on her.

When they eventually made it to work, they were still constantly around each other. They don't really do any PDA, even on each other's birthdays. There wasn't much time today at work where they were separated.

When Ethan and Claire had about 15 minutes left to their shifts, Ethan gently took her hand and let her into a break room that had all the lights off. When Ethan closed the door, he turned the lights on and everyone came out of hiding.

"SURPRISE!"

Claire jumped for a second before smiling widely at everyone. She looked around at all the decorations, the food, and everyone who was there to celebrate.

"Thank you guys."

She opened up her arms and people started walking over to her for a hug. Once the hug was over, everyone started partying and having a good time as Claire made the rounds.

They had cake and now it was time to open presents. Claire got a new dress from Ines, some earrings from Zaid, a necklace from Harper, some sunglasses from Baz, a book that she had been wanting for a while from Naveen, and an acoustic guitar from her old roommates.

Once the party was over, Ethan and Claire offered to satu and help clean up. This caused Jackie and Sienna to walk over and tell them to go home and celebrate the rest of the night.

After they had clocked out and got into their car, Ethan pulled Claire in for another deep kiss. They both wanted to get straight home so he quickly pulled out of the parking lot and drove to their apartment.

Once they were inside, Jenner ran up to them all excited. Ethan's dad, Alan offered to watch Jenner for the day while he was visiting. Alan gave Claire a hug and wished her a happy birthday before going back to his hotel room.

Claire and Ethan retired to their bedroom once they set their belongings down and Alan had left. They laid on the bed like they did earlier that morning.

"Did you have a good birthday?"

"It was one of the best birthdays I have had. I have you, Jenner, my friends and family. I have what I need to make it a great birthday without material items."

Claire was about to pull him in for another kiss when her alarm went off. What she thought was real, was actually just a dream.

Yes, today is her birthday. She's still in her residency. She's still living with her roommates. She's not pregnant or married.

And the one guy who is on her mind is miles and miles away.

[armandclocksitall]

Watch The Night Go Up In Smoke (Chapter 1)

Paul(The Lost Boys) x Frog! Reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: mention of blood, dead mom

(Y/N) Frog was always deemed “the weird kid” out of all their friends. Not because of anything they ever did. No, it all started with their seventh birthday party, before Christy Frog had tragically passed away.

Just as the candles were being blown out, (Y/N)’s father and uncle, Edgar and Alan Frog, stomped through the door holding stake guns and dripping blood all over the freshly cleaned rugs. All of (Y/N)’s seven-year-old friends obviously screamed in absolute terror as their parents were all flabbergasted and disgusted at the sight before them. Each of the children along with their parents were quickly ushered out of the house with a rushed apology as well as the barely believable explanation that Edgar and Alan had just returned from a hunting trip and forgot they were coming home to a child’s party.

Things obviously worsened after Christy, the wife of Edgar Frog and mother of (Y/N), fell sick. (Y/N) almost never left the house and their mother’s side during this time and lost almost all their friends turning into a recluse. They were only 13 when she passed away peacefully in her sleep. Christy was the more level-headed between her and her husband, never letting his profession stop (Y/N) from living a normal life. Edgar, crippled by the passing of his true love, held on tightly to his only child and the only direct link to his deceased wife he had left. He was strict but it was to protect them. He had to know who was in their friend group and where they were at all times. However, his most strict rule was that (Y/N) was never allowed out past dark.

As (Y/N) entered high school, this obviously made whatever remnants of a social life they had left crumble completely. With a weird father and uncle who didn’t understand social cues, a dead mother, and now a completely unreasonable curfew, (Y/N) was a total social outcast, and hanging out with them would almost instantly be the death of any chance of popularity.

This, however, did not affect (Y/N)’s best friend since diapers, Mikayla Emerson. She was the daughter of Edgar Frog’s lifelong friend, Sam Emerson.

They were complete polar opposites. While (Y/N) was forcefully made into an introvert by the tragedy that is having the Frog name, Mikayla was a bubbly, sweet, and sociable teenager. (Y/N)’s father always told them that she was a spitting image of her father from when they first met. Nobody really understood why the two of them were so close and worked so well together but nobody dared to question it.

If you were caught talking shit about Mikayla’s cousin and it got back to her, then you could consider your high school social life flushed down the toilet. Despite the fact that (Y/N) was best friends and practically family with one of the most popular girls at school, it granted them no entry to any sort of clique.

While Mikayla could never save (Y/N)’s social life at school she would be damned if she couldn’t at least get them a social life in public. They were both 18 and finishing up their senior year, in just a few months, nothing from school would matter anymore. They’d be two adults in the real world, no longer held back by embarrassing birthday parties, or dead moms, or weird dads and uncles. Two new faces. Mikayla, while a total sweetheart and the apple of her father’s eye was a rebel at heart and knew that Edgar Frog’s restrictions that he set on his kid were stupid. There was a party on the beach this Friday night and she was going to help (Y/N) sneak out and finally see how wonderful the world is and just how magical the Santa Carla boardwalk can be at night.

——————————————————————————

Friday night had finally arrived, and the only way (Y/N) could describe how they felt was nervous. Sneaking out was totally risky and completely out of character for them but their cousin had insisted that they go to “Blast on the Beach.” It was an annual event and anybody who was anybody would be at this party, not just high-schoolers. This could be (Y/N)’s chance to finally branch out and meet people who didn’t think of them as some sort of hermit with the father who walked into a child’s birthday party covered in blood.

After dinner, (Y/N) had excused themself telling their father that they were feeling a bit under the weather and worn down from the past week and that they were heading to bed early. (Y/N) thankfully lived in a single-story home with their father so there’d be no climbing needed for when their cousin showed up to sneak them out.

(Y/N) paced around their room waiting 15 minutes before they heard a light tapping on their window. Mikayla stood outside with a smile that stretched a mile wide across her face. She was sure her cousin was going to back out at the last minute but there they were, impatiently awaiting her arrival already dressed for the party.

(Y/N) had opened the window slowly, making as little noise as possible before looking around their room once more, “I should probably bring a jacket right?” they asked their cousin.

Mikayla quickly nodded before motioning to the door of (Y/N)’s bedroom, “Don’t forget to turn off the light and lock the door so it looks like you’re asleep and don’t wanna be bothered.”

(Y/N) quietly rushed and did as their cousin told them to before grabbing their leather jacket off their desk chair and silently maneuvering their way out the bedroom window.

They landed on the dirt outside with a muted thud as their boots hit the ground. (Y/N) readjusted their jacket, checking for any tears. This jacket was very important to the teenager, (Y/N) had found it when they were raiding their Uncle Mikey’s closet with Mikayla. It was a very popular pastime of theirs when they were just entering high school and wanted to look cool. Mikayla mainly stole a few pieces from their Aunt Star’s wardrobe but (Y/N) was inexplicably drawn to this jacket.

They had never seen Mikey ever wear it so they figured he wouldn’t put up much of a fight when they asked for it. (Y/N) remembered how apprehensive their uncle seemed when they had first held it up to ask to keep it. For something he almost never used, he was pretty reluctant to let it go. Their Aunt Star finally convinced him to give it to the teen telling him that it was okay to let go of the past. It seemed rather deep considering it was just a jacket that didn’t seem to hold much importance but (Y/N) chose not to dwell on it for too long.

Mikayla, obviously not a stranger to sneaking out for a night of fun had everything planned to a T. She had parked a few blocks away from the Frog household to not raise any alarms. The two 18-year-olds hopped into her jeep and raced off to the boardwalk. As they arrived they saw that the parking lot was incredibly crowded but she managed to find a parking spot next to four gorgeous motorcycles. Mikayla and (Y/N) climbed out of the vehicle and made their way to the beach where a giant bonfire was roaring away as teenagers and 20-somethings raged around it already completely wasted and ready to have the best night of their lives.

>Next Chapter<

[rookie-ramsey]

Curveball, Chapter 6

Description: Two months after the ski lodge, life throws them a big surprise.

Preview: The words left Sienna’s mouth in a rush. “Olivia’s in labor. She’s in the ER right now. She was in a car accident and isn’t badly hurt, but it triggered labor.”

At that, Ethan felt his heart stop. His throat clenched, suddenly dry with worry. He didn’t remember breaking into a run, but the hallways of the hospital blurred past him as his feet carried him to the ER.

previous chapter

The baby shower began with lunch. Olivia got to go first, making sure to take at least one of everything. She took a seat next to Ethan at the table and leaned against his side as they started eating.

“How does it feel seeing a baby shower in your apartment? It looks like the baby aisle at Walmart exploded in here.”

Ethan chuckled. “I’m more concerned about what the conversation over there is related to.”

She arched a brow, watching curiously as Sienna whispered with Olivia’s mother and siblings and Alan in the corner of the room. “What could our relatives be gossiping about? My sister is writing something.”

“It’s hard to tell.”

After a few minutes, Sienna stood up and grinned. “We’re going to warm up with a little guessing game. I’ll tell a childhood story about one of the parents, and you guys get to guess who it was!”

Olivia couldn’t contain an amused smirk. “I guess this means I get to hear some more delightful Little Ethan stories.”

“Apparently so.” Ethan sighed.

Sienna glanced down at the paper and giggled before reading. “This parent used to wear a white bathrobe and plastic stethoscope and played hospital with stuffed animals. Who thinks that was Olivia?”

Several hands went up. Ethan bit back a smirk as her cheeks flushed a little.

“That’s right,” her mom confirmed. “She waltzed around the house in a little white robe, used every room in the house as a hospital room for her ‘patients,’ and insisted that we had to give them privacy.”

“It sounds like I’m finally getting some blackmail material,” Ethan whispered, earning an eye roll.

“Sure you are. Nothing will ever be more embarrassing than little you making out with your teddy bear.”

Sienna moved onto the next one. “True or false! When Ethan was really little, he had a fascination with Band-Aids.”

“Why do I think that’s true?” Olivia grinned.

“Because it is,” Alan confirmed. “When he was a toddler, all it took was a box of Band-Aids to keep him amused for several minutes. Of course, he put them on everything he could get his hands on. His toys, the furniture… the interior of the car on a road trip.”

Olivia laughed. “That’s adorable.”

“It’s wasteful.” Ethan shook his head, trying not to smile. The game continued for several minutes until people were finished eating.

Curious, Olivia watched as Sienna set out several unlabeled jars of baby food. “What are those for?”

Sienna grinned. “People have to guess the flavor by smelling it or taking a tiny taste if they’re brave enough. Just a heads up, the smells and tastes may not always be accurate!”

“Who goes first?”

“You pick.” Sienna handed her a basket containing slips of paper. Olivia reached it into, digging her fingers through the papers until she picked one. She opened it slowly to increase the suspense and smirked when she read the name.

“Zaid.”

Zaid startled, his eyes widening. “What?”

Amused, Olivia revealed the paper slip with his name on it. “You get to go first.”

Ines laughed and nudged Zaid toward the table. “Do it.”

He sighed. “I should have listened to my conscience and not put my name on that paper. I should have known better.”

Baz rolled his eyes and grinned. “Okay, Eeyore. Be a fair sport and play the game.”

Giving in, Zaid picked up the first jar and took a tentative sniff. He immediately set it down. “Is that supposed to smell edible? Because it does not.” He jotted down an answer on the slip of paper and reluctantly moved to the next one.

Olivia picked the second name. “Bryce, you’re up. Don’t chicken out.”

“You think I’d really back down? Never.” He picked up the first jar and smelled it, wrinkling his nose with uncertainty.

Jackie snorted. “I’ll pay you ten bucks to taste a mouthful.”

“Deal.”

Sienna handed Bryce a clean tongue depressor from the bag of supplies. “Here you go.”

Ethan arched a brow. “Are those from the hospital?”

“We didn’t have enough plastic spoons!”

“Stealing an entire Ziploc baggie of tongue depressors from a hospital that has thousands of them? Badass.” Bryce laughed and dug out a scoop of the baby food. He put it in his mouth, immediately making a face.

“Ten dollars,” Jackie reminded him.

Bryce swallowed it and tried not to gag. “That… was gross. Zaid, I’ll do your clinic hours if you try it.”

Zaid rolled his eyes. “Do I look like a moron? Don’t answer that.”  

After a few more games, they sat down to open the inordinate number of presents occupying their apartment. Olivia grabbed the first one and dug through the tissue paper until she found two tiny sets of pajamas designed to look like scrubs.

“These are so cute!”

Elijah grinned. “You’re welcome.”

Olivia picked a large present from her mom and nudged it toward Ethan. “Open that.”

Ethan removed the paper, exposing a box that seemed to contain some sort of sophisticated trash can. “What in god’s name is this?”

Rebecca laughed. “It’s a diaper genie! It’s basically a fancy trash can that’s supposed to contain the diaper smell inside them.”

“These exist?”

Rebecca chuckled. “Yes, and believe me, you’ll need it. If not for the diaper smell, then to stop them from getting into it when they learn to walk. When Olivia was a year old, she felt like knocking over a trash can full of diapers. Worst mess I ever had to clean up.”

“Really, Mom?” Olivia groaned. She opened the next present, which was from Sienna. She opened it and grinned as she dug out two stuffed dolphins, as well as two little onesies with dolphins on them.

“What do you think?”

“I love them!” Olivia folded the tiny outfits and put them back in the bag. She opened several more gifts, collecting plenty of clothes, diapers, and other necessities. When she opened the present from Baz, she giggled and held up the four matching sets of Christmas pajamas.

Ethan stared at them, his expression blank. “It’s October.”

Baz grinned. “So?”

“These are perfect. And I will make it my life’s goal to get Ethan to wear his.” Olivia gave Ethan a pointed look, wordlessly telling him he would not win the argument even if it wouldn’t happen for another two months.

Once most of her guests had left, Olivia curled up on the couch and rummaged through the gifts. Bryce and Sienna stayed to help her family clean up while Ethan helped her sort through their presents.

“I think this is my favorite.” She held up the picture frame from Alan, containing a copy of one of their sonograms and an empty slot they would use for a newborn picture when the twins were born.

Ethan thumbed through the customized journal from Naveen. His other hand subconsciously rested on Olivia’s stomach, and a moment later he felt the now-familiar little kick against his palm.

Olivia smiled, lightly placing her hand on top of his. “I don’t think you’ll ever know how cute you are when you do that. I don’t even think you realize you’re doing it half the time.”

“I guess it’s become an instinct.” Ethan slipped his arm around her.

“A cute instinct.” She gave his hand a squeeze. Stifling a yawn, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe it’s already October. By December, they’ll be here. I feel like it’s gone by fast and slowly at the same.”

Nodding in agreement, Ethan pressed a kiss to her head. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Opening presents and eating is a lot of work when you have two people inside of you.”

He chuckled and drew her closer to his side. “I’m sure it is.”

Olivia draped her arm across him and snuggled into his chest. A mischievous smile lifted the corners of her lips. “I never thought I’d see Dr. Antisocial Ramsey attending a baby shower.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “You forget that I’m capable of surprises.”

XXXXXX

It didn’t take long for maternity leave to give her cabin fever.

Since twins were almost always born earlier than expected, she scheduled her C-section for the 37th week. Even that was pushing it, but she wanted to let them develop as long as possible.

Halfway through her fourth episode of House, her phone chimed with a message from Ethan. She picked up her phone and grinned when she saw a picture of two baby onesies, each with the caption “Relax, my parents are doctors.”

She grinned as she looked at the picture to see that the onesies were blue and green to match Edenbrook’s logo. She typed a response, glancing at the time and realizing she would need to get ready for her appointment soon.

As she showered and dressed, a kick in her abdomen reminded her of just how soon their lives would change.

XXXXXX

As 1:30 approached, Ethan slipped out of his office to meet Olivia for her 35-week appointment. He pocketed his phone and car keys and made his way toward the elevator.

“Ethan!”

Ethan stopped, turning at the urgency of the voice behind him. He frowned, seeing Sienna rush toward him. “What happened?”

The words left Sienna’s mouth in a rush. “Olivia’s in labor. She’s in the ER right now. She was in a car accident and isn’t badly hurt, but it triggered labor.”

At that, Ethan felt his heart stop. His throat clenched, suddenly dry with worry. He didn’t remember breaking into a run, but the hallways of the hospital blurred past him as his feet carried him to the ER.

He made his way to the closed curtain in the corner and shoved it aside, finding Olivia resting on the bed with Bryce standing at her side. She held an ice pack to her bruised temple, clutching her stomach with her other hand.

Olivia looked up, her eyes wide with panic. “Ethan, it’s… it’s too soon for this to happen! I’m not supposed to have the C-section for two more weeks! My… my water broke in the cab…”

“Shh…” Unsure if he was trying to calm himself or her, Ethan took her face into his hands and met her worried eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay. I want you to take a deep breath and focus on me. Okay?”

Breathing shakily, she tried to take a deep breath. The heart monitor next to her beeped sharply, indicating her rising blood pressure. She winced when a contraction tore through her.

Ethan looked up, forcing his voice to remain steady for her sake. “Lahela, who’s on the OR floor right now?”

“Tanaka, but he’s in a heart transplant right now.”

“Scrub in.”

Bryce’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? I’m her friend.”

“Bryce, please. We can’t risk waiting too long,” Olivia pleaded, her voice trembling.

Bryce took one look into his best friend’s panicked eyes and nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

Taking Olivia’s hand into his own, Ethan let out a small sigh of relief. “How nervous will you be?”

“More nervous than I’d be operating on a stranger, but I can do it. I promise,” Bryce assured him. “Let’s go.”

Ethan moved to the head of the bed. He kept a firm grip on Olivia’s hand as they rushed to the available operating room. Her hand clutched his tightly, seeking the reassurance. When they reached the OR, she squeezed her eyes shut against the threat of tears.

“Hey…” Ethan’s hand cradled her cheek. “Everything will be alright. Please try to believe me.”

“I’m trying…”

He helped her turn onto her side so she could receive the injection for the spinal block. Olivia gripped his hand, wincing when the needle pierced her skin. She let out a long sigh as Ethan gently turned her onto her back again.

Sensing her need for comfort, Ethan brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Talk to me. Try not to focus on the risks right now. Tell me the likelihood of both babies being fine.”

Olivia’s face furrowed in thought as she wracked her mind. “Babies delivered at 35 weeks have a 99 percent chance of survival, presuming that they don’t have pre-existing conditions.”

Ethan nodded, relieved when she seemed to relax a little. “You’re right. Remember that.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he tried to convince himself to believe his own words. They gave the spinal block five minutes to take effect before transferring her to the operating table.

Ethan’s heart thudded against his ribs as Bryce and the surgical team he’d assembled gathered around, ready to begin. “Please tell me this isn’t your first time.”

“I’ve done one solo and assisted on three. I can do this,” Bryce assured him. He took a deep breath and firmly gripped the correct scalpel. “Ready to make the first incision.”

Ethan rested his hand on Olivia’s cheek. His thumb gently grazed her jaw. “Bryce is starting now. Focus on me and think about the fact that in just a few minutes, the babies will be here and they’ll be fine.”

Olivia leaned into his hand and drew in a long breath. With the numbing agent, she couldn’t feel the incisions. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on Ethan’s fingers raking gently through her hair.

The minutes that passed ticked by agonizingly as she tried to think about anything other than the chance of something beyond their control going wrong. Her racing heart slowed just a little, allowing some of the tension to leave her body when Bryce announced that they were in.

“Everything’s going fine. Just keep hanging in there, okay? I can see the first baby,” Bryce assured her.

“Hear that?” Ethan laced his fingers through hers. “They’ll be out soon.”

Olivia nodded, her movements slowing a little. The monitor next to her beeped as her blood pressure suddenly started to drop, first to a normal rate and then a little lower. Ethan frowned, worry etching his features.

“Her BP is dropping. She could become hypotensive.” He knew the complication was common during cesareans and that there was only a minimal chance of serious risks, but that didn’t stop his heart from racing faster.

Bryce picked up the pace a little, keeping his hands steady as he finished the incision and instructed one of the other residents to place the clamps. “We’re ready to get baby number one out!”

Moments later, a cry rang through the operating room as Bryce removed the first baby. When Bryce passed the newborn to him, Ethan reacted with an instinct he didn’t know he had and immediately cradled his son in his arms.

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat, swelling with affection. Olivia blined groggily before slipping into unconsciousness. His throat tightened with anxiety as he reluctantly surrendered the newborn to a nurse for an examination.

“Olivia.” He firmly patted her cheek, torn between fear and relief when she let out a subconscious groan in response. A minute later, he looked up as Bryce removed the second baby.

For a long moment, time slowed to a crawl when the baby remained quiet. Just as Ethan felt his chest clench with panic, the newborn emitted a loud cry that made him weak in the knees. He held his arms out, accepting his daughter into them. His heart stuttered in his chest as he gazed down at the fussing baby.

He held her for a few moments before letting the nurses take her. His mind swam with mixed emotions as he returned to Olivia’s side.

Ethan waited nervously as Bryce closed her up. A relieved sigh escaped him when Olivia’s blood pressure started to creep towards normal. “Bryce?”

“Yeah?”

“Good work.”

Once Olivia was transferred into a private room, Ethan stepped into the hallway. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and started the call. “Dad? If you’re not busy, you might want to make a trip to Boston…”

“Is everything okay?”

“Your grandchildren were just born. I thought I’d… did you already hang up?” Shaking his head, Ethan slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked up as Naveen approached him, a wide grin on his face.

“I just heard some gossip that my two favorite employees just became parents.”

Ethan nodded, unable to stop a wide smile from forming on his face. Naveen pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tight. Ethan returned it, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. “Olivia passed out during the C-section, but she’ll be okay. She should be awake in just a couple of minutes.”

“I won’t keep you from her. I’ll come meet those babies later. You go be with your family.” Naveen released him and squeezed his shoulder.

“Thank you.” The smile never left Ethan’s face as he quietly slipped back into the room to check on Olivia and the babies.

His family.

He liked the sound of that.

Next Chapter

Note: This was definitely my favorite chapter so far. Stay tuned for more! 

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Take Care (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Set sometime between chapter 18, Ethan forces Naomi to take a break.

A/N: Okay the other day when I posted that i was writing tooth rotting fluff, this isn’t what I had in mind. That story will come later this week.

~v~

“How long have you been here?”

The question startles Naomi awake, Ethan’s stern voice cutting through the hazy cloud of sleepiness invading all of her senses.

If she didn’t have his handsome features committed to memory already, she might not have been able to make him out, her vision getting blurrier and blurrier as time ticks on.

“What?”

“How long have you been here?” Ethan asks again. “When was the last time you stepped out of Edenbrook?”

It’s a valid question, one Naomi hasn’t given any thought to. “What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

“I’ve been here since Saturday night,” Naomi confesses. Saying it out loud is slightly sobering. The past few weeks have flown by in a blur so unlike anything she’s ever experienced before. But with the hospital closing down soon, there’s no time to waste these days. The people of Boston will be down a hospital, and they still need help.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Christ, Naomi.” Yes the hospital is shutting down, but he’s sure there are countless laws she’s violated in the meantime, as no one is supposed to be at the hospital for triple digit hours at a time.

“What? You’re the one who said we should spend our time helping as many people as we can.”

Leave it to her to throw his words back in his face. She’s gotten increasingly better at it, and he’s not a fan. 

“Okay, but I didn’t say you had to move in to do so. And you’re always saying I don’t have a work-life balance.”

Naomi’s arms extend and she gestures widely to the bench she’s sitting on in front of the cafeteria. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“On the verge of collapsing,” Ethan quips.

“I’m sitting,” Naomi argues. “I’m taking a break.”

“Are you currently with a patient?”

“No.”

“Good.” Ethan extends his hand for Naomi to take. After a beat of hesitation, she accepts. He lifts her out of her seat with a swift tug. “You’re coming home with me.”

“But–”

“It wasn’t a question,” Ethan deadpans. “It was an order.”

Naomi plants her feet on the ground, willing herself to not move. It’s a futile attempt because she’s too exhausted and weak to actually have the amount of strength it’d take to battle Ethan on this, but he respects her stubbornness and doesn’t carry her out. “Ethan, I’ll take a nap in an on-call room for an hour, I don’t need to leave.”

“Rookie, you’re clocking out for the evening,” Ethan says, his tone letting it be known that it isn’t up for debate.

“I’m back to ‘rookie’ now?”

“Yes, because you’re being petulant, and you’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not my direct superior anymore, Mister ‘We-Don’t-Need-a-Diagnostics-Team’.”

“I’m still your attending, you still have to listen to me. And I say you’re done for the day.” Not giving her the chance to respond, Ethan wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close. She’s dead weight in his arms and he has to all but drag her to the locker room to retrieve her personal belongings.

Urge car ride to his apartment is silent, save for very idle chit chat. Naomi is too tired to speak, and she won’t admit it due to pure pride and stubbornness, but sitting in Ethan passenger seat on the way to his place is the most peace and quiet she’s had in a long time, not to mention the longest she’s sat still in days. Forever the know-it-all, Ethan picks up on her need for silence and solitude, and doesn’t say too much outside of asking her what she wants for dinner. They decide on a pizza, compromising on garlic chicken.

As soon as they step foot into the apartment, Naomi is assaulted by an overzealous golden retriever. He barks excitedly at her, clawing and licking at her scrub pants as a greeting. Jenner has grown used to her presence, the rare occasions she does actually leave Edenbrook are spent here, curled up with the large dog on the days he’s not in Providence with Alan.

“How’s my favorite boy?” Naomi asks, scratching behind Jenner’s ear. Jenner barks in reply, his tongue falling out of his mouth and lolling to the side as she makes himself comfortable under her touch. 

After a few more scritches and whispered affirmations, Naomi forces herself away from the day, though she could easily spend all night with him in the entryway. She kicks off her shoes at the door and drops her purse there as well.

“Do you want to eat first?” Ethan asks.

The pizza did tempt her the entire drive here, but she desperately wants to take a shower. Maybe she’s losing it at this point, but she can still feel Edenbrook on her skin, and smell the sterilizing disinfectant the cleaning crew uses.

“I need a shower,” Naomi replies definitively, though she makes no effort to move. “Besides, scarfing down cold pizza is always a good idea.”

“Alright.”

Ethan takes her hand and leads her through his apartment, making sure she doesn’t bump into anything on their way to his en-suite

He turns on the water for her, the large waterfall shower steaming the glass planes almost instantly.

“Want some company?” Ethan asks.

“That sounds nice.”

Because she’s literally a zombie, Ethan helps Naomi out of her clothing, delicately peeling the baby blue scrubs off of her body and leaving a pile of discarded clothing on the floor. He follows, removing his own clothing with less care than he did hers, before walking them both into the shower.

For a long time neither of them do anything, Naomi too caught up in the heat of the water and Ethan’s amazing water pressure, and Ethan too enthralled in watching her.

Her skill is slightly pale, evidence that she probably hasn’t had proper sleep or food in Lord only knows how long, and he hasn’t seen dark circles under her eyes like this in months, since the night of the...incident as he’s decided to call it. She’s exhausted, it’s clear in the labored breaths that she takes, and Ethan is still sure without a shadow of a doubt that she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Unable to stop himself, his hand gently cups the back of her neck, tilting her head back so he can kiss her again. It’s soft and unhurried as if they have all the time in the world to do this.

The kiss turns more urgent as some of the fog clears from Naomi’s brain. Standing on the tips of her toes, she wraps her arms around of Ethan’s neck holding him close, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Ethan is rewarded with a tiny moan from his girlfriend, a moan that he swallows with the kiss before it dissolves into a low grumble in the back of her throat.

“I missed that,” Naomi admits as Ethan breaks the kiss. 

“What? Kissing me?”

She hums in confirmation and leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss onto his chest. “I can’t even remember the last time I kissed you. The only recent memories I have involve me at Edenbrook, diagnosing patients.”

She’s right. Their only focus has been work, work, work, and Ethan can’t remember the last kiss either.

His thoughts are broken up by Naomi, her hands roaming aimlessly along his arms and shoulders. Her exploration goes further south until her nails are raking along his stomach. “When was the last time I touched you?” She asks quietly, her eyes boring into his. “When was the last time I saw you naked?”

A measured exhale escapes Ethan’s nostrils as her hands venture dangerously lower, slightly grazing his pelvis. If neither of them can recall their last kiss, trying to remember the last time they had sex would be a moot point. The nights they leave Edenbrook are spent collapsing in his bed as soon as they can, drifting into unconsciousness almost immediately. “I don’t know.”

“God, have we become old and boring already?”

“We’re just tired and overworked,” Ethan says. “It’ll pass soon.”

The words unspoken hang in the air, just as thick and heavy as the steam surrounding them. Soon they’ll have plenty of time to get back into the normal aspects of their relationship only because they’ll both be unemployed. Edenbrook will be gone before they know it.

Not wanting to dwell on that, Ethan shakes his head as if he will away the cynical thoughts. Instead, he grabs Naomi’s hands, holding them tight to his chest. “We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

“Really? Something begs to differ.” With a raised eyebrow, Naomi looks down curiously at the evidence of Ethan’s arousal, comfortable nestled between the two of them. Before she can reach down and touch him, Ethan shakes his head.

“I have the most beautiful woman, naked and wet in front of me. This was inevitable, but it’ll go away.”

“I can make it go away.”

“Mhmm-hmmm. Turn around, Valentine.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. How this woman always finds the space and opportunity to flirt with him is a mystery. Lining the walls of his shower are all of Naomi’s bath and shower products. He’s always making fun of her for being a product hoarder, though she insists everything is different—he’s been schooled on the differences between regular, leave-in, and deep conditioner, creams vs gels, body scrubs and shower gels many times and he still doesn’t see a need for it all. 

Grabbing her favorite shampoo, Ethan pours a generous amount into the palm of her hand before gently running it through her strands of hair. He’s seen her wash her hair enough times to know the bare bones of her routine. Very careful of her curls, he makes sure to not roughly drag his fingers through her hair and risk creating a tangled disaster for her to handle later on.

Her head tips back. “Can I pay you to wash my hair from now on? I never want to go back to doing it myself.”

A swell of pride forms in his chest at the compliment. “No payment needed.”

Once he’s finished washing her hair and he’s coated it in conditioner —she insists on leave-in, as she doesn’t have the energy to put my more effort into her hair for the evening—Ethan lathers her in one of her shower gels, whichever one makes her smell like jasmine.

He moves slower as he does this, pressing his thumb into the base of her neck, massaging away some of the stress she’s carrying. His hands dig into her shoulders, between her shoulder blades, and her lower back, loosening the muscles as he goes.

Naomi doesn’t attempt to stop the moans fighting to spill from her mouth, no matter how obscene they sound. The relief that bloods her body is instant, his touch working out knots she wasn’t even aware of.

“You’re a great doctor, you cook, and you're an excellent masseuse?” Naomi sighs in content. “What can’t you do?”

“I told you I make it my mission to be good at everything.”

“I’m going to find your weakness one day, Ramsey.”

She’s his weakness, his Achilles heel, and Ethan can’t believe she doesn’t know it already. There’s no end of the earth he wouldn’t go to for her, no hoop he wouldn’t jump through, his feelings for her his fateful flaw and his greatest strength all in one.

He kisses her again, this time on the side of her neck. His breath fans her, heating the sensitive skin as he leans closer. “Good luck.”

He continues the massage in silence, careful to keep his touch away from places that would no doubt cause this to spiral into shower sex. And as lovely as that sounds, it’s not what Naomi needs, so he’s willing to forego his baser urges. Every once in a while she makes a comment about how amazing his hands are, but for the most part she’s blissfully silent.

He doesn’t stop with the massage until he’s absolutely sure she’s putty in his hands and all of the knots and spots of tension are gone. Even afterwards, they stay in the shower, his arm splayed across her midsection, his chin resting on top of her head.

“I don’t want to move,” Naomi says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m too comfortable right here. Can we just stay?”

Ethan chuckles softly to himself. “We can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Well, the steam in here might actually suffocate us if we stay in here any longer,” Ethan starts. “And I’m not a fan of wasting water.”

“It’s not a waste if I’m enjoying it.”

“Touché. Not to mention your skin will get very dry, and you’ll be much more comfortable in my bed.”

“Okay, I guess you’ve made some valid points. We can leave now.”

She doesn’t make any effort to move, and Ethan quickly realizes he’s going to have to do all the work to get her out of here. He turns off the shower and opens the door, quickly inhaling. He didn’t realize how much he needed air until he was no longer in that glass box of steam.

He grabs two large bath towels off of the rack and dries them off. Naomi searches his countertop, now covered in her makeup and hair products until she finds a satin scrunchie to tie up her still damp hair.

They both meander back into Ethan’s bedroom, and Naomi searches through one of his spare drawers for something to wear. It’s full of her clothes, and a few items of his that she’s stolen over the past few months; a t-shirt here, a pair of socks there.

Once she’s bundled up in some of the warmest clothes she can find, Ethan ushers her into bed.  “Are you ready for your pizza now?”

A stubborn yawn manages to slip out as she shakes her head. “No. I’ll get some before I head to work in the morning.”

“You’re not going to work tomorrow,” Ethan says.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re taking a much needed break tomorrow,” he continues. “I admire your tenacity, but I’m not going to let you work yourself to the bone and neglect your own needs in your very noble quest to help everyone in Boston. You won’t do Edenbrook any good if you collapse due to exhaustion.”

“But I–”

“I’m not asking you, Naomi, I’m telling you.” Despite his tone, a pleasant shiver runs down the length of her spine. “You’re staying here with me.”

She almost always has the upper hand in their arguments or debates, but Naomi can tell there’s no room for her to argue with him on this one. He won’t let her win.

“Okay,” she concedes. “No work tomorrow.”

Smug that he’s won this round, Ethan triumphantly slides into bed, wrapping an arm around Naomi, keeping her trapped with him. Unlike her, he didn’t put on any clothes, only a pair of boxers, but now Naomi is able to revel in his natural body heat.

He runs a thumb along her cheek, caressing her softly before kissing her forehead. “I am incredibly proud of you.”

“Really?”

“You’re an excellent doctor, and trust me when I say you’ve done more for this community that I’ll ever be able to put into words. And despite the hospital closing soon, I hope you realize the impact you’ve made in your two years here.”

Naomi nods, her throat getting thick with emotion. She’ll never be used to Ethan complimenting her like this. “I wish I could do more.”

“We all do. But at the end of the day, you’re still a human and you can only do so much.” Ethan’s hand moves from her face to her neck, his thumb tracing a pattern along her pulse. “I don’t want you to crash and burn, and best yourself up over something so completely out of your control.”

“Who are you and what have you done to Ethan Ramsey?” Naomi teases. She never thought she’d live to see a day where he’s scolding her for working too much and trying too hard.

“I’ve done a lot of reflecting recently, mostly due to you. If there’s any lesson you’ve taught me, it’s that there’s only so much I’m in control of.”

“Any other lessons or tokens of wisdom I’ve imparted on you.”

“You’ve taught me how to be more patient than I knew was possible,” Ethan replies. Naomi rolls her eyes at the slight teasing. “You’ve taught me how to see the world’s grey area. You taught me the true meaning of trust and forgiveness. You’ve shown me endless compassion and empathy, none that I’ll ever be able to repay in this lifetime or the next. I was your attending, your mentor, but trust me when I say you’ve taught me more than I could ever teach you, about medicine and life in general. So thank you.”

Maybe it’s the pure exhaustion or his really sweet words, but her eyes become wide and glossy with unshed tears. She blinks them away, not wanting to cry.

Instead she leans forward and pulls him into another kiss. She doesn’t know if she can convey the full extent of her love and adoration for him with a simple kiss, but Naomi’s never been the type to not try. When she pulls back, she rests her head against his chest, settling in comfortably.

“Thank you. For the kind words, and for taking care of me tonight. I’ve never had someone be as thoughtful as you.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” Ethan promises. He’ll give her the world if he can. “You just have to stop being so stubborn and let me do it.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying.”

“Now get some sleep,” Ethan commands. “Tomorrow, I’ll actually cook you a real meal. Not any of the garbage they serve at the hospital, and no more takeout, but–”

He stops short when he hears a soft snore fill the room. Looking down he sees that Naomi has managed to doze off in the mere seconds he was talking.

He’s never been so happy to watch someone sleep, as no one deserves it more than she does. He plants one final kiss on the crown of her head. “Goodnight, Naomi.”

~v~

Tags: @professorkingslay @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @aka-calliope @edgiestwinter @soft-for-drake @greenbean-kylie @akshara16 @bluebellot @honeyandsunfl0wers @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

[katblu42]

Stuck

Installment 2 of my whump wheel spins - still not particularly whumpy! (Sorry.  I’ll get there - I think!).

This one is Alan, Imprisonment and Staircase.

“Scott!” the little voice called.

Ignore it, Scott thought to himself, this assignment is important.

“Scott-ie!”  This time louder and in a sing-song tone.

Scott closed his eyes and tried to shut out the insistent calls.  Ignore it and he’ll go and find someone else.  Except only one other brother was home and he was probably still asleep.  Ignore it. Maybe he’ll get bored and give up. Opening his eyes again with a sigh he tried to focus on his history essay.

“Scott?”

He sat up straighter, every fibre of him now on high alert.  The voice was quieter but somehow more urgent, having an almost whimpering edge to it.

“Alan?” he called back. “Are you okay?”

“Scottie, I’m stuck.”

Fast as lightning Scott was up from his seat and out of his Dad’s office where he had shut himself away in an effort to get his work completed in peace.  He didn’t have to go far to find his baby brother, who had begun to cry.  He was sitting near the top of the stairs with his head protruding between two of the banister spindles, hands tightly clasping a spindle on each side of his red face, tugging desperately to try and free himself.

“Allie!  Calm down, stay still, okay?”  Scott stood where Alan could see him, trying to keep his own heartbeat from pounding in his ears at the sight of his distressed brother.  Alan stopped struggling and glistening blue eyes that had been tightly scrunched shut opened and latched onto the promise of safety found in the matching blue eyes of his big brother.  “Take a deep breath for me.”

Alan did as he was told, eyes firmly fixed on Scott, who also took a deep breath in, then slowly out. Scott repeated the slow inhale and exhale, with Alan copying him, calming them both.

“That’s better,” Scott soothed.  “Now, I’m gonna come up there and get you out, but first I need to get something from the kitchen, okay?”

“Okay,” Alan managed, only a slight waver in his voice.

“I’ll be right back.”

As promised Scott was only gone from Alan’s sight for a moment before returning and racing up the stairs.

“Okay, Allie.  We’re gonna try something, but if it doesn’t work I don’t want you to worry because there’s another way to get you out, okay?”

“Okay.”  The amount of pure trust in that quiet reply almost made Scott falter.

“I’m gonna spread some of this around your ears, and the sides of your head to make it slippery, and I’ll put some on the spindles too.”

“What is it?” the little one asked, screwing up his nose anticipating an unpleasant answer.

“It’s just butter,” his biggest brother reassured him, “just like we spread on your sandwiches.”

“Oh, okay.”

As Scott worked at slathering globs of butter on his baby brother’s head, he asked how Alan had wound up in this predicament.  After all, the five-year-old should know better.

“I wanted to know where you were, but you told me to stay upstairs and I knew you’d get mad at me if I came down, so I tried to see where you were from up here, but I couldn’t see enough, so I thought maybe I could see more if I put my head through here, and . . .”

“And you got stuck.” Alan’s words had come out in such a fast-paced tumble Scott almost felt the need to remind him to breathe. Instead he just kept his voice and his actions calm.  By the time the torrent of words had ceased Alan had been on the brink of shedding more tears, but the quiet, gentle calm Scott was steadfastly maintaining was enough to soothe him.

Having spread butter liberally on both Alan and the stair spindles, Scott wiped his hands on the kitchen towel he’d grabbed along with the tub of butter.

“Alright, Allie, we’re going to try and get your head back through here.”  Scott indicated the gap between the spindles just under the bannister, where the gap was widest due to the shape of the turned wood.

Alan had to raise himself up a little as Scott helped try to ease his slippery head between the bars imprisoning his little brother, paying particular attention to his ears.  The two of them tried various angles, re-positioning this way and that to try and gently squeeze Alan’s head back through the narrow gap.  A few times it seemed they were close only to have Alan whimper in pain.  Each time they stopped Scott worried that Alan would end up bruised and battered by the process, but the other option had its difficulties, and this way out was preferable if it didn’t take too long.

Alan’s ears were starting to hurt, he didn’t like the greasy feeling of the butter smeared all over his head and he was beginning to wonder whether he’d be stuck there forever, but his big brother wasn’t panicking, so neither would he.  Scott had promised him that there was a way to get him out, and when Scott made a promise he knew he could trust it.  Scott would fix it.

“How’re you doing, Allie?” Scott asked him.  “I know it hurts, but we were really close that time.  Do you want to give it one more try?”

He took a deep breath, the top of his nose creased and his brow crinkled into an expression Scott recognised as his scowl of fierce determination.

“I’m ready.  Let’s do it,” Alan declared with such attitude Scott had to stifle a fond laugh.

After a count of three, with Scott helping with angles and ear-wrangling, Alan grunted and gritted his teeth through the painful squeeze and suddenly he was free, crashing back into the arms of his big brother.  Both of them sat there for a moment, breathing hard, Scott’s arms wrapped protectively around Alan, holding him safely against his chest.

“Good job, Sprout. Everything okay?”

Alan ran his hands over his head, rubbing his ears and smearing butter all over his hands in the process.  Everything seemed to be where it was supposed to be, and nothing was really hurting.

“I’m okay, Scott.”  He turned and smiled up into a concerned frowny face that quickly softened into a smiling expression full of relief and love.

“You did way better than Gordon did when he got stuck,” Scott said with a laugh.

“Gordon got stuck in the stairs too?”

“Yep.  The first time Virgil managed to get him out the same I way we got you out, but it took ages and Gordon cried the whole time.  I don’t think Mom and Dad ever found out about that one, but the second time . . .”

“He got stuck twice?!” The look of wide-eyed incredulity on Alan’s face made Scott snort with laughter.

“Yeah.  The first time he was about three years old, but the second time he was six or seven, and he was really stuck.  After half an hour Virgil was just about ready to grab a hand saw from the toolshed to cut out one of the spindles, but then Mom came home and she got him out in less than a minute.”

“What did she do?”

“Well, Gordon had got himself stuck much closer to the bottom of the staircase, so Mom showed him how to twist sideways, get his shoulder between the spindles and squeeze out forwards through the spindles where Virgil could help him out and down onto the floor.”

Alan sat processing all this information for a moment.  He was glad Scott hadn’t suggested going through the bars forward at the height he’d been stuck – it was a long way down to the floor from here.

“We don’t have to tell Gordon about this, do we?” Alan asked.

“Nope.  We’ll get everything cleaned up – including you – and it will be our secret.”

[tsarinatorment]

For the Touch Asks meme :D

33. bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go.

With Scott and Gordon :D

::hugs you lots::

Ooh, Nutty’s sending me Military Bros prompts!  Yay :D  Back in the Scott&Gordon sandbox with me (as though I ever actually left...) and some nice caretaking going on because why not?

Oh look, we even got a hint of Virgil, just for you :D

Touches Ask Game

Gordon heard the clatter in the kitchen and immediately something prickled down his spine.  He’d only just got in the pool, Scott’s return from a rescue forcing him to wait until Thunderbird One was safely ensconced down below again, and didn’t want to leave it again quite so immediately, but that clatter had sounded nasty.

Virgil still wasn’t back, Scott apparently not hanging around and keeping pace with the slower Thunderbird as he sometimes liked to do, which meant that with one last longing look at the water, Gordon pulled himself back out to see what was going on.

Scott was growling something inaudible as he approached, sat on the floor and surrounded by kitchen-related debris.  At a glance, he looked like he’d been carrying a tray of snacks - probably headed for the desk to keep him company while he tackled the post-rescue report - but something had happened and he’d fallen over.

If that was all, Gordon would have just grumped at being dragged out of the pool for no good reason and slunk away again to leave big brother to clean up the mess, but there were splatters of red amongst the ceramic sherds.  If he’d had any doubts about the source, the fact that Scott was holding his left hand to his chest banished them.

“What have you done to yourself?” Gordon asked, cautiously tiptoeing around the mess to reach his brother’s side.

“I’m fine,” Scott said immediately, as though Gordon couldn’t see red seeping through his fingers.  “If you want to make yourself useful, why don’t you grab the dustpan?  And put something on your feet!”

True, bare feet and broken crockery weren’t a particularly good match, but Gordon was more concerned with the white-knuckled grip Scott had on what was presumably a bleeding hand.

“Let me see,” he insisted, cursing that Virgil wasn’t back yet to force Scott into obeying.

“It’s fine,” Scott repeated.  “Leave it.”

Gordon did not leave it, nudging a particularly jagged piece of ceramic out of the way before kneeling down next to him and reaching out to take hold of Scott’s wrist.

“C’mon,” he coaxed, tugging lightly.

“Gordon.”

“I will put something on my feet and help clear this up after I’ve seen your hand,” Gordon retorted firmly.  “C’mon, Scott, or I’ll call Grandma.”

From the look that crossed his face, Scott did not want him to call Grandma.  The woman might be visiting friends - Alan dragged along for the ride - but she could and would berate him just fine via holocall.

“It’s fine,” he repeated again, but his grip slackened and Gordon’s next gentle tug had his hand being revealed.

It was not fine.  There was a gash running across the meat of his thumb and cutting into his palm, and entirely too much blood for Gordon to classify it as anything other than deep.

“We need to standardise definitions if you call this fine,” he quipped.  “Because to me this says ‘hi, I’m deep and will need stitches!’”  Scott’s eyeroll was a comforting sense of normality.

They kept a first aid kit in the kitchen, but it was only an every day household one.  Still, Gordon pulled Scott to his feet and guided him over to the table with instructions to sit before he pulled it out and wadded some gauze.

“You know the drill, Scotty.  Put pressure on that while I get this cleaned up, then it’s down to the infirmary for stitches.”

Scott let out a sigh but did as he was told.  Gordon dug out discarded flip flops before returning to the danger zone with a dustpan and brush.  It didn’t take long to clear up, although he mourned the loss of what had looked like the last of the cake Scott had obtained from Sydney the previous day and scowled at having to mop up entirely too much coffee before he returned to his brother’s side.

Blood loss didn’t seem to be an issue, although Gordon suspected exhaustion from the rescue was as Scott hadn’t made a break for it to treat it by himself.  What had they been doing again?  It hadn’t been anything anticipated to be tough, otherwise he’d have gone with them, but Scott definitely looked tired.  Running himself ragged around the danger zone again, no doubt.

“C’mon,” he said, checking the gauze and seeing that it was more red than white.  “Infirmary time.”

Scott’s sigh said exactly what he thought of that, but he obeyed readily enough.  If Gordon hovered at his elbow just in case he stumbled, well, that was just common sense.  He hadn’t seen any reason for Scott’s original fall, so it was probably incoordination brought on by tiredness.  Still, they made it with no further problems, and Gordon soon found himself manhandling his brother into sitting on a bed.

“Don’t pass out on me,” he warned, locating antiseptic, as well everything he’d need for stitches and a nice roll of bandage to finish everything off.  He was rewarded with another eyeroll.

“It’s just a cut, Gordon.”

“That it is,” he agreed sunnily, dragging a chair over and plonking himself down in it.  “One that needs stitches.  Hand.”

Stitches weren’t normally Gordon’s job, but their main medics were off the island and no matter what he might try to pretend, Scott couldn’t sew himself up one-handed, especially when it was his dominant hand in need of said stitches.  Still, Gordon knew his way around the procedure and soon had the area cleaned and prepped.

Something he also knew was that Scott, for all his Big Brother Bravado, hated needles.  The local anaesthetic was met with a grimace, and Gordon didn’t need to look to know that blue eyes were averted from the curved needle and his bleeding hand.  He could handle it just fine when it was someone else, but when it was him in need...

“So, what movie do you wanna watch?”

“Huh?”

“When I’m done patching you up,” Gordon clarified, prodding at Scott’s hand and determining from the lack of reaction that the anaesthetic had set in.  “I’m declaring this afternoon movie time.”

The sigh he got was tired but resigned.  “I have work to do, Gordon.”

“I’m thinking we need to rewatch one of those early millennium classics,” he continued, checking the thread for kinks before making the first stitch.  Scott didn’t seem to notice.  “How about Finding Nemo?  We can marathon into Finding Dory.”

“Haven’t you got those memorised by now?” Scott demanded, but Gordon could hear the reluctant fondness in his brother’s tone anyway.

“And that means I can’t ever watch them again?” he asked.  “Scotty.”

Scott didn’t retract the statement so he sighed.  “Fine, no Finding Nemo today.  How about A Shark’s Tale?”

“Really?”  Well, that disbelieving tone was a no.

“The Little Mermaid?”

“So you can sing along to all the songs and get Virgil throwing cushions at you again?”

Gordon scoffed.  “He’s just jealous he can’t sing like me.”

“Uh huh.”  So Scott was feeling like a critic today, was he?

“Okay, if you don’t want the classics that rules out Moana and Atlantis,” Gordon huffed.  “Come on, Scott, give me something to go on here.”

“We are not watching a movie,” his brother said, as though he honestly thought that was true.  Yes, the pool was calling Gordon, but if he left his big brother unsupervised at this point, he’d probably go and do something stupid like overuse his hand.  Movie afternoon it was going to be.

“C’mon, Scott,” he wheedled, finishing another stitch.  One more to go.  “I’ll make the popcorn.”

The lack of an instant reply told him Scott was caving.

“I know, how about Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea?” he offered.  “The original one, not the ‘56 remake.”  That had been terrible.  He’d been so hyped to see it when it had come out, but... eesh.  Some classics were best left as classics.

“Top Gun.”

Bingo.  “The original?”  As though Scott would watch anything else.  Big brother always preferred pre-millennium.

The what do you think noise he got confirmed it, and Gordon hummed.

“I think I can put up with that,” he shrugged, finishing the final stitch and reaching for the roll of bandages.  It was another old family favourite - one that mixed planes and boats well enough to keep at least most of them entertained.

Bandaging was a familiar process, layers of linen wrapping over Scott’s palm again and again until the row of stitches were entirely hidden.  It didn’t take long; Gordon was far too practised at the procedure by now.

“All done,” he announced, looking up at Scott in time to see his brother’s head turn to face him again.  Blue eyes regarded the bandaging with visible resignation.

“Thanks.”  He tried to withdraw his hand from Gordon’s grip, but a sudden reluctance to let go washed over him and he tightened his grip a little.  “Uh, Gordon?”

“What happened?”  Now his brother wasn’t bleeding all over the place, Gordon could start to think properly about what had ended up with his brother on the kitchen floor.

Scott’s free, uninjured, hand ran through brown hair, dislodging a few strands from the rigid gelling he subjected them to.  “It’s nothing, Gordon.  I just tripped.”

Over what lurked on the tip of his tongue, but Gordon didn’t let it slip out.  He didn’t need to.  Scott wasn’t John; most of the time he was perfectly co-ordinated and just about the last of them to ever trip over his own feet.  It was as close to an admittance of exhaustion as he’d get from him.

“If you say so,” he said instead, reluctantly letting Scott reclaim his hand but holding out his own to help him to his feet.  The fact that Scott accepted the help just cemented Gordon’s determination that his brother was going to spend the rest of the day relaxing, no work allowed.  “C’mon, let’s get that movie on before Virgil gets back and insists on something sappy.”

It got a laugh out of Scott, so he counted that as a win.

“You promised popcorn,” his brother said, and Gordon shrugged as he made short work of tidying up the infirmary - no need to get the bear any more up in arms than he already would be when he spotted Scott’s bandaged hand.

“I did, didn’t I?”  He put the last of the equipment away and slung an arm over Scott’s shoulders, nudging him up towards the den.  “You set the movie up while I get it?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

It was twenty minutes into the movie when Virgil walked in, immediately catching sight of Gordon with an arm around a half-asleep Scott and a bowl of popcorn wedged between them. Pre-empting the obvious question betrayed by the furrowing brow, Gordon gave his brother a sunny grin that promised answers to the white-wrapped hand later.  To his credit, Virgil’s only response was to swipe some of the popcorn before wedging himself on the end of the sofa, sandwiching Scott between them and gently pulling the injured hand into his lap to survey the wrapping silently.

Scott huffed but didn’t fight it, seemingly far enough into the land of nod to put up with Virgil’s investigations without any sort of protest.  Instead, his head dropped further onto Gordon’s shoulder, as though the only thing that had been keeping him awake was the wait for his brother’s return.  With all brothers currently supposed to be on the island now present, Gordon suspected he had no other reasons to fight the exhaustion.

He shared a fond glance with Virgil over their brother’s head as Scott’s breathing evened out and big brother finally fell asleep.  It didn’t escape his notice that Virgil didn’t let go of the injured hand until the end of the movie.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Hey, I don’t know if you still doing this but I spun the whump wheel and got ‘car accident’ and ‘hospital/infirmary’ with Alan please? (Scott can join in as caretaker if he wants to...actually please ask him to, I love those two ❤️💙)

Never Too Old To Be Smothered

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Alan, Scott

Okay, I’ve given up on going through these in order.  I’m just gonna scroll through my inbox and pick at them as they appeal to me for now (but I should get there eventually!)

In theory, this isn’t going to be particularly long.  We’ll see what happens.

Spin the wheel of whump and give me a character!

“Alan!”

The young man in question looked up at the sound of his name and rolled his eyes as his eldest brother hurtled around a corner and came into view.  His shoes clearly weren’t prepared for the friction of the sudden stop, but it didn’t mean Scott cared or even noticed the screech of protest on the carefully clean floor.

“I’m fine, Scott,” he said, attempting to pre-empt and head off the smother hen.  It had been annoying and embarrassing enough as a teenager; somehow it was worse now he was a full grown adult.

“Your car flipped!” his brother disagreed, and Alan rolled his eyes again.  “You could have died, Alan!”

“Well I didn’t,” he pointed out.  He would have gestured at himself, his still alive self, but the arm in a cast put pay to any attempts at that.  “Brains put enough safety features in to rival a Thunderbird, Scott.  You know this.”

Scott had been the one to insist on it, taking his new car out for a spin long before he’d let him anywhere near the wheel.  That had been when Alan realised that being a legal adult didn’t dim the smother hen tendencies at all, and that in all likelihood, they were never going to dim.

Blue eyes raked over him, sneakers scuffing against the floor as Scott took the last few steps to the side of his bed and all but collapsed into the visitor’s chair.

Alan knew what was running through his mind.  There had been arguments when he’d declared he was going to enter the racing scene, Scott calling it too dangerous despite it technically being far safer than anything any of them did for International Rescue, but at the end of the day, Alan was an adult and Scott couldn’t stop him.

He was relieved Scott hadn’t already launched into another tirade about the dangers.  If he was honest, he’d expected his biggest brother to attempt to force him to quit, maybe even threaten to remove the support his family were giving him, but it seemed that despite the crash - and it had been a nasty crash, thank goodness for Brains; Alan knew not all the involved drivers had survived - Scott still respected his decision enough.

Or maybe someone else - most likely Grandma, but could also have been any of their siblings - had already had a word.  That seemed more probable.

“I’m okay,” he promised.  A broken arm and a broken leg, sure, but that was it.  He’d had worse on missions.  Scott had had worse on missions.

He couldn’t move his strapped-up arm, but that didn’t stop Scott reaching out and lightly tangling their fingers together.

“I know,” he sighed, looking ten years older.  The grey that had started to make its presence known when he was Alan’s age had expanded into unmissable streaks, despite the fact that Scott wasn’t even forty yet.  Normally, Alan barely noticed it - just another part of Scott - but it was times like this, when he was hunched over and a little bit scared, that he couldn’t not see it.  “You’re never going to stop scaring me, are you?”

“At least I’m not Gordon,” he retorted.  While his immediate brother had managed to peak at maximum physical trauma as a teenager, it hadn’t stopped him getting into some rather dramatic scrapes as the years went on.  Alan was fairly certain most of Scott’s grey hairs were his fish brother’s direct fault.

Scott shuddered.  “Don’t,” he warned.  “Just, don’t.”

“Okay, okay,” Alan agreed amicably.  “Is there anything left to save of my car?”

The look on Scott’s face told him all he needed to know.

“You haven’t even seen it, have you?” he accused.  “You heard about the crash and came running over here as fast as Thunderbird One could carry you.”

Scott shifted in his seat at the accusation, and Alan rolled his eyes.  Typical Scott.

“Well, I’m fine and I’m clearly not going anywhere, so can you go find out if anything’s salvageable?” he asked pointedly.  “I’d go do it myself, except...”  He trailed off meaningfully and sent his brother a stop being an idiot and do something useful look.

Scott’s hold on his fingers tightened and he sighed.  Okay, so Scott wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.  Alan wished he was surprised, wished he could have assumed that being an adult and clearly fine, barring a couple of broken bones, would get Scott moving, but he wasn’t.  Over the years, he’d realised whose benefit the smother hen act was really for, and it wasn’t him.

Although, no matter how annoying and occasionally embarrassing it could be, Alan did still kinda like it when his big brother came flapping in to keep him company and look after him.

“Fine,” he caved, with a put-upon sigh that was at least half faked.  Three-quarters, probably.  Maybe even seven eighths.  “I suppose you can stay if you want,” he offered magnanimously.  It got something that might have been a smile from his brother.  “But I want someone finding out what happened to my car.”

It was Scott’s turn to roll his eyes, but at least he looked a little better.  Maybe Alan being stubborn about his car’s condition was enough to prove he was actually fine.  “I’ll get Virgil to check it out,” he said.  “Happy?”

Alan grinned at him and cautiously curled his fingers around Scott’s in return.  The action got a recognisable smile that time.

“Happy,” he agreed.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Midnight Musing

John Wick x reader (A/n- Another one of those things that i wrote but saved for when I had nothing else.)

Warnings- Some angst, but mostly fluff.

“A road need not be paved in gold to find treasures at its end.” -Alan Brennert 

Y/n felt small in John's arms and he could feel the slow rise and fall of her chest, matching the soft sound of her even breathing. The flimsy silk of her nightgown, smooth and soft against his bare stomach and chest, felt almost as fragile as she did, and he could feel the warmth of her breath fanning his neck.

With the exception of a pale yellow glow washing the room through pulled curtains, their bedroom was dark as John sunk deeper into his thoughts. The stroke of midnight had long passed and Y/n had been asleep for no more than a couple hours. She had succumbed to slumber quicker than she usually did when they talked over the phone and John had reckoned that it could have been because he'd done quite a good job at wearing her out after she'd come home from work. Though, Y/n would always argue that she slept better when he shared the bed with her.

It had been nearly a month since they'd last done that; shared a bed. John had been gone on a job in Europe. He had estimated two weeks, but things had gone awry and he’d been forced to stay back until he could get it done. When it was finally over, John had taken the first flight back, intent on surprising his love. And surprise her he did. Y/n was pleasantly stunned, and extremely excited when she’d come home earlier that evening, only to find him in the backyard playing with Dog; haphazardly dropping her bags on the kitchen counter and running out through the open screen door only to leap into his ready arms.

"I missed you," is what she had mumbled, her face buried in the crook of his neck, holding onto him as if her life depended on it.

"I've missed you too princess," John had returned, only pulling away so he could lay a proper kiss on her lips. It had felt like ages since he'd had her lips on his, tasted the undertones of her favorite coffee creamer mixing with something uniquely Y/n, something that always felt so surreal and magical, that John could hardly believe that she was there.

He felt like that a lot. That was how he had been feeling that night too, laying in the dark, their roles reversed as he clung to her for fear life. It wasn't really that John had a hard time believing in Y/n's existence, not really, for a man like him could never be afforded such a singular though. No, it was that he couldn't, for the very life of him, fathom why, out of every man in the world, she'd picked him. What could she have seen in him to make her ignore the monster that resided within and love the lonely, at times broken, man beneath?

John’s eyes glazed over as his troubling thoughts consumed him. Y/n was the nicest person he knew; a kind heart and gentle touch that could still the quickest hearts and ease the worst pains, at least, to him. They had met on an off chance, it had been one of those days where John was reminded that he wasn’t really like everyone else, his life wasn’t normal and that he was a brutal killer walking among men. He had just left the Continental after returning from a job the night before and must have looked like the perfect contradiction; dressed impeccably in his usual suit though with cuts and bruises littering his face. The limp in his step had significantly slowed him and the soreness in his muscles was evident every time he shifted.

Y/n had been walking towards his direction, latte in hand, eyes glued to her phone, trying to solve some work problem or the other; she was a nurse practitioner, but John hadn’t known that yet. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t really see her until they clumsily crashed into each other, her scalding hot coffee drenching his shirt. Y/n had apologized profusely, and John had done his best to reassure her that it was fine. She had even offered to pay for his dry cleaning, but he had politely declined. 

That might have been the end of their interaction, until she saw the fresh cuts on his face, worry for a stranger tugging at her pretty features, eventually insisting that he come back to her place so she could make sure he was okay. John conveniently neglected to tell her that the hotel’s doctor had already done that and Y/n couldn’t didn’t even seem bothered that she was inviting a strange man into her apartment. 

Three years after that day; Y/n had long moved out from her little apartment in the city and into John’s house, and by then John hardly ever needed the Continental's doctor, not when he had a trained professional waiting for him at home. Home. That was what Y/n had turned his house into; a home that they shared. Formerly plain walls were now lined with pictures they’d taken together on birthdays, anniversaries and vacations. Dresses, navy blue scrubs and other articles of women’s clothing had joined his things in the closet while Y/n had made it her mission to liven their backyard with happy little flowers of varying colors. 

John was more than grateful, in fact, he’d often think that there wasn’t a word that was enough to encapsulate just how lucky he was to have Y/n. Even if he couldn’t fathom her reason for staying. How could someone so inherently good, optimistic and pure, love a man as jaded as him? Even after he had come clean about his life, expecting the bloodshed and shear horror of it all to scare her off, Y/n had stayed. Even after she’d seen him at his worst, broken down and frustrated when a target just slipped out of his grasp, she had assured him that it would be okay. Even when he showed up at her apartment, after just six months of dating, clutching his side, bleeding onto her floor, barely able to hold himself up, she had nursed him back to health. 

John simply couldn’t get it.

He took lives, and Y/n saved them.

She was like an angel among them and he was the corruption that she let into her life.

John was so far gone that he hadn’t even realized that Y/n had stirred awake, until she called out to him softly, “John?” she whispered, she always whispered in the dark, even when it was just the two of them; she’d once told him that it was because the dark was so quite that speaking loudly might disturb it, “What are you doing up?”

“I, umm...” he trailed off, trying to look at her in the low light. By the grace of the moonlight, he could see that her hair was fanned out on the pillow, lone strands falling over her face, “I was just thinking.”

Y/n craned her head awkwardly, glancing at the alarm clock behind him, “At two am? I think there might be more convenient times for thinking Jonathan,” she teased, “Are you having trouble sleeping?” Her mood sobered when he didn’t quite laugh at her quip.

“I guess,” he shrugged, “It’s just.....” John hesitated, though, eventually asking her anyway, “Do you ever think about why you love me?”

“I...” Y/n hesitated, pushing herself up on her elbow, grazing the fingers of her free hand on John’s cheek. She couldn’t guess what had brought that on, or what he meant for that matter, but she could tell that something was bothering him. John was a man of very few words, even less so when they involved talking about his feelings, but she never needed vocalization to know that he was letting his thoughts get the better of him. It usually came out in the way he held her or looked at her, as if he was hoping she could make it better, soothe his mind the way she’d often heal his body. “What are you talking about?” Y/n furrowed her brows, brushing some of his hair behind his ear, letting her thumb slide over the apple of his cheek.

John dragged his lip through his teeth, seemingly thinking on it for a moment, “I mean, why are you with me? When you could be with someone who’s good, like you, someone who’s not a murderer and who’s job doesn’t put you in danger. How can you love me when I’m everything wrong in your life?”

Y/n stammered, her eyes going wide, her hand finally relaxing, cupping John’s cheek. Emotion tugged at her heart and Y/n worried on her lower lip. She hated that he’d think like that sometimes, like he didn’t deserve her, especially when Y/n knew that John deserved every bit of good in his life. He wasn’t just the Baba Yaga, the Boggyman or the man to fear, in fact, to Y/n, he wasn’t that at all. To her, he was John, the man who’s arms felt like the safest place on earth, the person who worried about her when he was away, risking his life, the love of her life and the man of her dreams. She hated the mere thought of John feeling less as if he was any than that.

Scooting closer, Y/n leaned forward to greet John’s lips with hers, “When are you gonna stop thinking like that, huh?” Even if only by pale light, John could see Y/n’s eyes questioning him, the glassiness of worry sparkling beneath.

Letting his large, work-worn hand skim Y/n’s side, settling in the dip of her waist, John, trying to dismiss her concern, teased; “When I pinch myself and realize that this was all a dream,” probably the best one he’d ever have.

Scoffing, Y/n pinched him on the bicep for purpose, smiling softly when John winced dramatically, “There, I pinched you for both of us; we’re both awake and you need to stop thinking about yourself like that,” Y/n sighed, her frown deepening, the ‘v’ between her brows prominent, “You’re not everything wrong in my life,” she quoted loosely, “In fact, John, you’re the best part of it. My favorite person, the man I love more than anything or anyone else in the world and the only man that I can imagine spending my life with. Why would I ever want to question that?”

“Because I’m-”

“You’re not a monster,” Y/n cut him off, tangling the tips of her fingers in his dark hair as she cupped his cheek, already remedying the bellying sea of worry in his mind. Her touch was cool and comforting, reminding John of the wonder that she was. “You’re a good man, who got dealt a shitty hand. But that doesn’t make you a bad person, and if it does,” she teared up, the words caught in her throat. Sniffling, Y/n continued, “Then I’d still take you over the best of men, because to me, there’s no one better. I wouldn’t trade a second of our time together, in fact, I’d give up anything to have more. John,” she breathed his name, smiling quietly, “You’re not what everyone says you are, what you think you are. You’re so much more than that, and I know sometimes you can’t see in yourself what I see in you, but I’m reminded of it everyday. I love you John. I love you because you’re strong and brave, because you’re determined and have a huge heart, and you’re over-protective sometimes, but it’s cute,” she giggled softly. “My point is you don’t need to be different for me to love you, and you’re not what’s wrong with my life. But you are the only thing that seems right sometimes, and I’m so grateful to have you.”

Blinking back tears that he hadn’t realized were there, John smiled, just enough for Y/n to notice. What did he ever do to deserve her and everything she gave him? John didn’t think he’d ever know. What he did know though, was that he was grateful too. So, so grateful to have an angel in disguise, loving him despite his flaws, to have someone that made letting go seem impossible. “Thank you, I love you,” he whispered, kissing Y/n again, his lips locking with hers in the sweet expression of their love.

“I love you too,” Y/n said against John’s lips, her body flush against his, his soft strands laced with her delicate fingers, his muscled arms keeping her close.

When they broke for air, Y/n’s forehead was pressed to John’s and they laid nose to nose, “Don’t ever leave me,” he pleaded a distinct urgency in his tone as John curled his stocky fingers in her silky tresses.

“Wouldn’t even dream of it,” Y/n reassured him, quick pecks supporting her words.

“Good,” John hummed. He knew that no matter what he though of himself, Y/n would always love him, but suddenly, he needed ultimate assurance. He wanted her to always be with him, always love him. He wanted to always love her too and make sure that she knew it. So, right there, without any prior plans and at two am when most of the rest of the street was sound asleep, blissfully unhampered by his turmoil and haplessly unaffected by her soothing grace, John blurted those two sealing words, not really as a question, more like a pleading statement, “Marry me.”

Without any hesitation, Y/n knew her answer, even if John’s request came seemingly out of no where. It was the same answer she’d have in any other instance. Giggling, Y/n hooked her leg around John’s waist, kissing him passionately, which arguably was an answer in itself. “I’d love to marry you,” she eventually murmured sweetly against his lips, when they had rolled over so Y/n was laying on top of him.

John held onto her tight, feeling her excited heartbeat against his own, her lips working perfectly in tandem with his. It was set, in words that were as sure as stone; Y/n would be his, forever, and he’d be hers.

As they kissed, the grey in his mind seemed to melt away, becoming a problem for another night. John would never know what he’d done to deserve Y/n, and maybe, he might never see the man that she saw, but he did know that as long as she was in his life, everything else was minute. His job was just a job. His pain was just pain. And it had all led him to Y/n, so really, it was worth it. 

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi