#also I like that Bailey can’t smile properly I just love it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blazedgraysons · 4 years ago

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okay so i didn’t really want to send a concept to you bc for some reason this anon thing scars me but... virgin reader and gray? mayb he eats her out idk?

A/N: wait honestly i’m so sad that this whole anon thing scares you. like feel free to come talk to me whenever you want, anon or not. but thank you for the request, sweet nonny, i hope i do it justice.

Also!!!! Being a virgin is nothing to be ashamed of . Literally doesn’t matter when you lose it as long as it’s with someone you trust and you’re okay with!! Now let’s get into it.

Warnings: yeah this is literally 2.8k words of just gray wanting to fuck. it’s nsfw for sure

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You weren’t trying to blueball Grayson, at least not intentionally.

It had started one Saturday night. You were in bed, flipping through some magazine when Grayson walked in from his shower. Your relationship is still very new, having just become comfortable to spend the night with one another.

He’s wearing nothing but a tiny pair of black briefs, water droplets sliding down his chest and towards his-

“Hey. Eyes up here.” He jokes, tilting your chin so you're looking at one another. You close your mouth, not even realizing you had started drooling. He’s smug, smirking when he discovers the effect he has on your body.

“Hey.” You whisper, still wrapped up entirely in the presence of your boyfriend.

“ Hi.” He whispers back, moving closer until his lips are brushing yours. You pull him into you, wrapping a hand around his neck so he can kiss you properly. It’s overwhelming, body heat radiating onto you, and you can’t touch him anywhere without feeling skin. This is the territory you’re most familiar with, making out needily like the both of you are high schoolers again. You’re still trying to pull him closer to you, not being able to get enough of him, and it’s not long before he’s crawling onto the bed with you.

He leans down, trying to get you to lie back, and you’re so distracted by what he's doing with his mouth that you don’t even notice his hand moving towards your leg. He trails his hand up your thigh, rough and calloused fingers moving higher and higher until -

You jump, trying to move away from him, and he pulls away rapidly, concern written all over his face.

“You good?”

“I need to pee.” You both speak at the same time. He looks at you for a moment, taking in your frantic, almost scared expression. Your eyes are wide and not meeting his gaze, breathing heavily. He’s not stupid; he can tell something else is bothering you, but you didn’t bring it up so he’s not going to press you.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You scramble out of bed and practically run to the bathroom. You know you’re overreacting and should probably just be honest with him. But you don’t want him to look at you different, embarrassed that he’ll only see you as inexperienced, innocent, and want to find someone else who can please him.

You splash some water on your face and walk back into the bedroom, Grayson dressed and some wilderness survival video playing on his phone. You kiss his cheek before turning to sleep away whatever shame you’re feeling, and not another word is said.

The second incident happens a few days later. You wanted to surprise Grayson with vegan french toast, for once, instead of the other way around. You had planned to make him breakfast in bed, but ever the early riser, he’s up before you can even put the food in the pan.

“What’s this, Angel?” He sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You jump slightly before turning to kiss him.

“I wanted to surprise you with breakfast, but you woke up too early.” He hums, watching over your shoulder as you measure out the egg substitute before placing kisses on your neck. What starts off as light and playful turns into deep sucks, sloppily kissing your neck in hopes of ending this morning differently than you had planned.

“ What’s up with you today, Bailey? You’re never this nice to me in the morning.” You moan softly at a particularly harsh suck, knowing that you’re probably going to have to go heavy on the makeup today.

“Don’t know. Think I just woke up hungry for you instead.” His voice is shot, gravelly with sleep and horniness. You’d be turned on if he didn’t press himself against you at that moment, letting you feel all of him.

“Gray.”

He hums, showing he’s listening, but more preoccupied with trying to move his hands under your leggings. You move away from him once his hands slip under your waistband. He looks at you, head cocked like a puppy. You get a chance to take a good look at him, clad in only his L.A. Kings sweatshirt and briefs. His hair is messy from sleep, but if you’re honest, all you can see is his morning wood. He looks at you expectantly, waiting to hear why you stopped him.

“I don’t want the toast to burn.”

He looks at the stove, then at you, then back at the stove.

“Angel, it’s not even on.” He places his hand in the pan, proving his point.

“Yeah, but if it gets too hot when I do turn it on, the toast will burn easier. Simple science, Gray.” You both know what you’re saying makes absolutely no sense. Still, you’ve turned around, finishing making his breakfast and changing the subject.

Grayson looks like he wants to say something, but he drops it as well, answering questions about whatever workout he has planned today even though he knows you have zero interest. He makes a note to ask you about this later, but ultimately forgets about it, giving you a few more days of peace.

The final straw is a movie night.

You’re both laid up on the couch, scrolling through the different titles on Netflix. You’re lying on top of him, Grayson’s arm wrapped lazily around your stomach. His hand traces small patterns while clicking on a title to read a description before moving on to the next.

“What do you think?” You look up from your phone, noticing he’s stopped on some random documentary. You honestly don’t really care what Grayson picks, more than content to just spend time with him.

“I don’t care, amour. You choose.” The tracing on your stomach stops at the nickname, and you feel his breath hitch before he starts the patterns again.

“You know, I don’t think it really matters.”

“It doesn’t?” You look at him, wondering where he’s going with this.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t think we’re going to be doing that much watching anyways.” He moves you over so you’re lying on top of him, faces mere inches away from each other.

“Oh, really? Shame because I was really looking forward to,” You turn to check the screen “Velvet buzzsaw.” He laughs a little before his face turns serious again. You watch as he struggles to focus on you, eyes fluttering down to your lips every few seconds.

“Yeah, a shame.” He mutters, pulling you closer. He kisses you, and your heart rate doubles. If there’s anything about Grayson, it’s that he never does anything halfway. He always kisses you like it’s the first time, making you want to fall in love with him all over again.

It doesn’t take too long for Grayson to become restless, wanting to start moving the night in a different direction. His hand slowly moves toward your ass, squeezing lightly. His kisses down your neck, sucking hard while he subconsciously grinds into you. It isn't until he starts pulling at your shirt, gesturing for you to take it off, that you pull away again.

“Okay, what’s wrong, Y/N?” He sits up to face you, breathing heavily.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean any time I, y’know, try and do anything with you, you just stop me. Do you not want to sleep with me?” His mind is going a mile a minute, frustrated and confused by your hot and cold tendencies. He doesn’t want to pressure you, more than willing to do whatever you need to feel comfortable. However, the lack of explanation is leaving him baffled.

“Are you not attracted to me?” He asks slowly, trying to consider every option in his mind. You stare at him like he'd suddenly grown two heads.

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“So... so what’s going on, Y/N?” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, “I mean, I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, but you gotta understand, you’re killing me here.” He smiles weakly. You lean you head back, closing your eyes before blurting out,

“It’snotthatI’mnotattractedtoyouI’mjustavirgin.” You rush it out, mumbling, and Grayson’s not even sure if you were speaking English at that point.

“I’m sorry?” You look at him, bewildered that he would apologize, before realizing he’s just asking for a repetition. You sigh and take a deep breath before repeating,

“It’s not that I’m not attracted to you. I’m just a virgin.” You close your eyes again, waiting for teasing or whatever cruel expectations your brain has given you. Instead, Grayson surprises you.

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it? Yes, that’s it.”

“I mean, I understand if you’re embarrassed, but Angel, it’s not that embarrassing.” You finally open your eyes to look at him, still expecting to see him holding back laughs or looking at you with pity. Instead, he’s just looking at you with more love and adoration than you’ve ever seen.

“I know it’s not, and I know it’s stupid. I’ve just always wanted it to be with the right guy, and I know for a fact that it’s you. It’s just-“ You pause, not wanting to be even more vulnerable than you’re already being.

“Just what?” He questions, softly encouraging you to continue.

“It’s just what if I’m not good enough for you. What if I’m not as good as the other girls you’ve been with, and you decide you don’t want to be with me anymore.” He does snort loudly at that.

“Where would you even get that from? I’m not with you because I expect you to be like super good at sucking dick or some bullshit. I’m with you because I'm in love with you, and if that means waiting days, weeks, or years until you’re ready, I’m fine with that. I just want you to be honest and not feel like you can’t tell me these things.” His confession leaves you warm, more in love than you’ve been before, even if it’s not the most ideal circumstances.

“But, I don’t want you to be like unhappy or unsatisfied until I’m ready.”

“So, let’s go slow.” He suggests.

“Slow?” You cock your head, not really understanding where he was going with this.

He hums in agreement, “Yeah. We’ll take it step-by-step. Whatever you’re okay with, I’m okay with.”

You lean in, kissing him again, but this time you’re leading. You push him back into the couch, crawling into his lap. He moans lowly, happy with the attention, and holds you closer to him. You grab the back of his shirt, pulling at it to get him to take it off. Grayson grabs your hand, stopping you before pulling away. You lean in again, wanting to continue with where you were going.

“ Woah, angel, slow down. We’re not gonna do this now; I want to actually make it special for you. “ You whine at that, appreciating the fact that Grayson cares enough to want to make it memorable and romantic for you, but you feel more than ready to show how much you love him in the most intimate way. He notices your frustration, letting out a deep breath before suggesting,

“We can always do something else.”

“Something else.” You agree, dazed and just drunk off the Grayson Dolan effect. He smirks at your response and moves you from on top of him.

Your heart drops to your stomach when Grayson slides off the couch, onto his knees, and in between your legs.

He grabs the waistband of your shorts, kissing where the elastic meets the skin. You can’t take your eyes off of him, watching as he takes in every inch that’s exposed as he pulls your shorts down. He tosses them over his shoulder while taking in what’s before him. He kisses your inner right thigh, moving higher to the apex before switching to the other one. He repeats this on the other leg.

“You okay?” He checks in with you, wanting to make sure he’s never doing too much or not enough. You nod eagerly, not wanting him to stop now that he’s begun.

He takes a moment before continuing, softly kissing your clit over your underwear. You hold your breath, watching as he places another kiss, and another, and another before he’s gently sucking it into his mouth. The pleasure isn’t overwhelming, underwear still providing a barrier from what his mouth can truly offer. Nevertheless, you whimper slightly, and Grayson groans at the sound. He let’s go, starting to pull down your underwear, eyes checking in with you again. You nod, and he pulls your thong down, exposing yourself for him. You try and close your legs, not missing the way his eyes darken a full shade, and his stare grows more intense. He moves them apart, pulling a leg over his shoulder so he has full access.

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Grayson takes a deep breath, wanting to savor this. He would be the first man (and hopefully last) to touch you like this, to hear what it sounds like you when someone feels the most sensitive parts of you, to see what it looks like when your cum. Frankly, the thought makes his head spin, and at this point, he doesn’t know whether he’s doing this more for him or for you.

He kisses your clit again, this time the feeling stronger with nothing blocking the way. He pulls away, checking your reaction for any discomfort before licking you slowly. He uses two fingers to spread you apart, giving him full opportunity to do whatever his heart desires.

He tastes you growing wetter, sweet musk feeling the air, and he’s already addicted, more than content to die in between your legs. He fully takes your clit into his mouth, suckling slightly. You’re whimpering lowly, trying to hold back any noises. Grayson, however, wants the opposite.

“C’mon, let me hear you.” He leans back, voice hoarse, weak, and so fucking wrecked. His lips are swollen and shiny, and you could cry from just how erotic it all looks. He leans back, giving your clit a long hard suck, and you nearly scream, crying out from the blinding, white-hot pleasure he’s giving you.

“There she is.” He groans, more than pleased with himself. He takes a finger, scooping up some of your wetness before slowly inserting it.

His dick twitches, and it takes everything in him not to cum right there. You feel so warm and wet and so fucking tight. You’re gripping him like a vice, and if that’s how you feel with one finger, he has no idea what he’s gonna do when he actually fucks you.

“ Fuck, Grayson. So good.” You can feel yourself leaking onto the couch, and the noises he’s making are obscene. You would feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the fact that you think you’re gonna cum.

He adds another finger, trying to stretch you out. He’s entirely making out with your pussy now, eyes closed, and just enjoying everything about this. He’s slurping up everything you release for him, and it’s wet, messy, and sloppy just the way he loves it.

You thought you would know what to expect when you came, having made yourself cum plenty of times yourself. But nothing could prepare you for an orgasm brought on by Grayson Dolan.

The coil tightly wounded in your stomach suddenly snaps, releasing waves of pleasure all over your body. Grayson leans back, not wanting to miss your face when he makes you cum for the first time out of many. Your head thumps on the back of the couch, mouth falling into a perfect O, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Grayson’s hooked and continues to pump his fingers slowly, not being able to tear his eyes away from how hot you look.

When you’re finally done, he moves his hand up to his mouth, sucking whatever’s left on his fingers, dark eyes stuck on you. If you weren’t so exhausted, you swear you would’ve fucked him then and there.

“Well?” He asks, watching you put yourself back together.

“Holy shit.” You breathe out, brain completely turned to mush, and not able to form anything remotely coherent. He laughs loudly, leaning back on his shoulders to look at you.

“Do you want me to-“ You gesture to his lower half, dick still very hard and not going away.

“No, I’m good. Step-by-step remember. I’m going to use the bathroom for a second though” He gets up, stretching nonchalantly before walking away. You get up as well, making his favorite snacks and queuing up his favorite movie. He deserves it. And when you wake him up with head the next morning, let’s just say it’s because he deserves that too.

#this whole thing reminds me of lara jean and peter #could not tell you why #grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan smut #dolan twins #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins x reader #dolan twins fic #dolan twins smut #blazedwritings

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lovelylogans · 4 years ago

Text

i wish i knew how (your eyes are like starlight now)

warnings: vampires (blood drinking mentioned), alcohol consumption, food mentions, cuddling, kissing, death mentions, if i’ve missed any please let me know!

pairing: logan/patton

word count: 6,003

notes: for @fangirltothefullest for our discord server’s secret santa! prompted with “Preferably logan-centric and fluffy! Logicality would be great! Logince would also be good. Maybe some cute cuddles by a fireplace?” title is from “baby it’s cold outside!” the idea of vampires being able to eat red food comes from a book i remember reading as a kid, but i cannot place the title, so if anyone knows it please let me know!

Hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps and Bailey’s, it turns out, is a particularly adept calmative.

It’s made the world go hazy and lovely and beautiful, and that’s even before Logan acknowledges the way his eyes are half-lidded and he’s leaning his head a bit more against the side of his wingback armchair than he would if he were entirely sober.

Logan narrows his eyes down at his mug, the one Roman had wheel-thrown and painted him with the chemical illustration of the molecular construction of caffeine on it, which is half-drained, the whipped cream and marshmallows melted, the peppermint stick meant to stir already losing its red stripes. Logan plucks it from the mug and sticks it into his mouth, crunching it, wriggling in the armchair to get more comfortably seated, and to get a better view.

Roman, Janus, Virgil, and Patton have long since been occupied with a board game; Remus left to do whatever it is that Remus does at night, probably screaming profanities at random passerby, so it’s just the five of them left. The Christmas party’s been winding down slowly for the past hour or so, the fireplace still crackling but burning lower and lower, their hot chocolate supply depleted, and Roman and Virgil’s fits of competitiveness losing fervor as the moon creeps higher and higher in the sky. The white of the waxing moon peeks out against the clouds that distribute the fat, fluffy flakes falling from the sky.

The snow catches the light of the Christmas lights hung outside the house (goodness, hadn’t that been a trying day) so the snow gleams in technicolor reflection, the rest of the world lit by the hazy orange glow of the street lamps. It is very beautiful, and Logan, in an unusually sentimental fit that he would tell himself in the morning was brought on by the alcohol, is incredibly grateful to be alive, at this precise moment, that allows him the company of such wonderful friends in such a beautiful world.

What a statistically improbable event they all are. What an outright scientifically impossible group they all make—a vampire, a set of twins that turned out to be a banshee and a siren, a selkie, and two humans. Three years ago Logan would have scoffed at the idea of any sort of supernatural, mythical humanoid, much less even suspected he’d meet them. And now he is in love with one, and is best friends with the others, and his life is so strange, so odd, so wonderful.

Logan comes back into himself when Roman cries out in protest, making Logan’s ears ring unpleasantly, as Janus crows in victory, holding the longest road card aloft, the dark gray seal-skin on his face gleaming pearlescent in the firelight.

“Cheater!” Roman accuses, his voice still maintaining that double-pitch—a high keen layered over Roman’s typically pleasant baritone—that always makes something in Logan’s head throb.

“Just because you didn’t strategize your road properly,” Janus gloats, pointing—and yes, the yellow road winding around the edge of Catan is decidedly longer than the red road circling over itself in the middle.

All the while, Virgil is muttering darkly about how useless the Largest Army card has been, tossing it aside, and Patton looks up at Logan, dark eyes glinting brightly in amusement, freckles speckled across his face like constellations, trying his best to hide his smile around the specially-ordered red-dominant candy canes he’s been eating all season, his fangs gleaming white, freed from the fake teeth Patton usually wears to pass as human, his lips tinged artificially red.

Logan feels even warmer all over at the sight of him.

Patton’s eyes get even brighter, and he flashes a sweet smile at Logan before he turns back to the board game and breaks up the squabbling with patient declarations of “Everyone did a really great job!” and “The fun’s what matters, right?” and being so stubborn and relentless in his optimism and platitudes that Janus and Roman relent and grumble grudging “good game”s at each other.

Patton’s far more patient than the pair of them—which makes sense, as he’s been practicing at it since the seventeenth century, according to all their estimations surrounding the first edition of Human Understanding he’d acquired the month after he’d been turned, in a fit of uncharacteristically dark humor—so he always wins out when it comes to digging in his heels and cheerfully going about something with the consistency of the little bird and the diamond mountain.

Roman ducks out to sulk for a moment, under the excuse of adjusting Patton’s painstakingly maintained gramophone he’d bought in the 1920s—he still has the early prototype phonograph he bought in the 1870s, but that one is even more painstakingly preserved in the rooms full of obsolete technologies, clothes, and knick-knacks that Patton’s accrued and hoarded throughout the years like a magpie—and the sound of Bing Crosby crackles to life in the next room, crooning “White Christmas,” the snapping of the fire providing unintentionally harmonious percussion. Logan wouldn’t be surprised if this is one of the original vinyls, too—Patton’s got loads of vintage music from artists Logan had never even heard of before.

Janus bows out, next, content to allow the high of his victory usher him out the door. He even allows Patton to fuss over ensuring his coat is warm enough to protect him from the snow, considering he’s wearing his sealskin coat and not a proper winter coat, and then even lets him fret over Janus staying moisturized, despite the fact that both Janus and Logan have attempted to explain that Janus’ version of moisturized and the human version of moisturized are quite different in execution, one being smearing lotion all over oneself and the other consisting of sealing himself into his skin and taking a dip in the nearest ocean.

Logan mentally backtracks over the previous sentence and immediately blames Patton for the pun, and simultaneously promises himself to never utter it in Patton’s presence. Patton still brings up the time Logan had accidentally mentioned Patton sinking his teeth into something, and can hardly finish recounting it before bursting into giggles. He is fortunate he is so adorable, otherwise it would irk Logan to no end. As it is, when it happens, Logan can’t summon up anything stronger than resigned affection.

He’s in love with a vampire who is currently fretting over a selkie with the exact air of a concerned father. It’s a fate he’s all too eagerly accepted.

Janus usually gets snappy about being mother-henned, so Logan suspects that either the Bailey’s has done a number on him, or the Christmas sentimentality is getting to him.

And, considering that Janus had one mug of mulled wine with dinner, Logan has a fairly good guess as to which is the root cause—especially taking into consideration Janus allows Patton to hug him goodbye. Janus wishes him a happy Christmas in a tone that is not quite as drawlingly dramatic as usual.

By then, the gramophone is playing a new song, a soprano prettily warbling “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” and Roman seems to be over his discontent over losing because he joins in, singing pleasantly rather than shrieking—he usually leaves the wailing to the banshee in the family, it’s just that the whole “drawing men to their deaths” aspect of his voice emerges when his temper flares—and Logan swallows down the sudden lump in his throat at the sound of it.

Of course, Roman’s voice is supernaturally exquisite, but there’s something different about it now; Roman had tried enchanting Logan, exactly once, after Logan had pestered him for weeks out of scientific curiosity, so he can say with certainty that this isn’t like the captivating sound that put him in a stupor with the speed and subtlety of being hit by a train, but it’s like someone has captured the flame in the fireplace and tempered it to a temperature that a human could stand, the cozy sensation of being beside a fire rather than the fire itself, and set it directly inside his heart.

You’re happy, a sober corner of his brain says dryly. You know this, you’re happy.

He is.

He is stupidly, incandescently, absolutely happy.

He will blame the dryness of the room from the fire for the sudden wetness in his eyes when Virgil joins in, usually quite shy about singing, but it is almost equally as pleasant as Roman’s, even though Virgil’s vocal chords (and the rest of Virgil) were entirely, completely, mortally human.

They are excellent, the pair of them. Not just their voices, but them, as people—they are excellent. Logan is exceptionally glad to have made their companionship.

Logan takes a deep breath, downs the last half of his hot chocolate, and launches himself from his armchair, perhaps a bit wobblier than he was at the start of the night, and Roman laughs without halting his song, wrapping an arm around Logan’s shoulder to steady him.

He can only join in for the last part of the song, which is probably for the best; Logan supposes his voice is tolerable enough, but it surely cannot compare to a siren, or to Virgil’s voice, rumbling like thunder. Also, he does not want to make a fool of himself, and surely singing more Christmas carols than necessary while not entirely sober would be a surefire way to do that.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Patton watching the three of them, a fond expression on his face, even if there is a flash of sudden gloom that passes over his face as the three of them sing “ Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow,” and Logan frowns to himself, noting it.

Intellectually, he is aware of the various burdens an immortal life forces upon its receiver; Patton has hundreds if not thousands of sketchings and, when the technology became available, photographs of people he had known through the hundreds of years of his life, painstakingly filed away.

Intellectually, he is aware that Patton was the source of unexpected windfalls that had been bestowed on Virgil’s family throughout the years, the reason Virgil and his siblings could afford to go to college; it is only after he and Virgil knew who Patton truly was that they found the reason behind the luck that struck his family once a generation. Patton had once been Virgil’s great-great-great-grandmother Violetta’s dearest friend, and she his; he’s been anonymously helping the descendants of all his friends in a similar manner for centuries.

Intellectually. He is aware that Patton fears the day that he will lose them all, and he will be left alone, unchanged, eternally in his late twenties, as he has been for centuries.

It is different to be intellectually aware of something, and to remember seeing Patton show Virgil the portrait he had personally painted of Violetta and choke back his tears because he’d missed her so much, and meeting and befriending Virgil had been a bit like having a piece of her back in his life again, and getting to know you has been such a gift, such a blessing. She would have adored you, as I do, and then Virgil had hugged him, and Patton had gotten so overcome he had not been able to say much else.

It is this memory plucking at his heartstrings that sends him stumbling in Patton’s direction.

Patton moves so quickly that Logan’s eyes can’t track it; one moment he was watching the three of them, the next he’s caught Logan around the waist, smiling down at him.

“Hi,” Patton says, and Logan takes a half-step closer to wrap his arms around Patton’s neck.

“Hello,” Logan says. He is about to attempt to say something that is emotionally adept, he really is, except Patton’s skin is smooth and cold under his fingers, and his lips are still tinged red, and Patton’s eyes dart down to Logan’s lips and then looks him in the eye and then he smiles, and any particularly subtle ideas about how to probe Patton’s emotions or perhaps to get him to stop thinking about the curse of bearing witness to the passage of time entirely flee his mind.

He barely has enough time to hope that Patton’s mind is similarly empty before Patton meets him halfway, pressing his lips against Logan’s; even though they’ve been together for years, Logan still isn’t quite used to the chill of Patton’s lips meeting his own. It makes him shiver every time.

Patton is always so sweet, so soft—Logan thinks only part of that is that he is a vampire afraid of hurting his comparatively delicate human lover, and the majority of it is because Patton strives to be sweet and soft as a default state of being, because he is a person who understands that kindness is not a state of being but constantly, consciously making mindful choices to be kind—and his kisses reflect that about him.

He almost always tastes of mint, because Logan had established early that he was perfectly fine with Patton drinking blood, he would not be facing secondary exposure to someone else’s blood, absolutely not, he holds a less than zero amount of desire to become an amateur hematologist through taste, and so Patton was incredibly scrupulous about brushing his teeth after consuming the blood he’d procured through a source of his in blood donation.

Patton tastes of peppermint now, and Logan sighs into the kiss, lips parting, and he feels the slightest, teasing pinprick of fangs against that sends a thrill zipping down his spine, and—

“And that’s our cue to leave!” Roman bellows with good humor; Logan turns to scowl at him over his shoulder anyways.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” Patton begins, brow creasing ever so slightly.

“Yeah, we do,” Virgil says, an edge of a laugh in his voice. “Besides, us humans have to sleep.”

Patton usually forgets about this; he doesn’t necessarily need to sleep, but he can. Logan knows of at least three decade-long naps that Patton’s taken; he has next to no memories of the foundation of the United States, because he was snoozing for the vast majority of the buildup to the Revolutionary War and the establishment of the government afterwards.

He is, though, content to lie in a bed he’d bought for Logan’s use as Logan dozes throughout the night; sometimes Logan wakes up to Patton propped up on an elbow, looking at him with an expression in his eyes that is a bizarre mixture of fondness and jealousy.

Patton nods and says wisely, “Or else Santa won’t come to your house.”

Virgil snorts, “Yeah, that’s why.”

“I’ll have you know that Nikolass’ a close personal friend of mine,” Patton sniffs, “and it is a very long way from Gemile.”

“North Pole,” Virgil corrects. “Santa lives at the North Pole.”

“Mm,” Patton says neutrally.

“Patton, did you really know St. Nick?” Roman demands.

“No, no, you’re right,” Patton sighs, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Far too late for you mortals. Off to bed, then, and don’t forget to leave him some börek!”

“ Milk and cookies,” Virgil says, he and Roman now wearing twin expressions of desperate curiosity. Logan, who knows when St. Nick supposedly lived, keeps silent.

“He prefers börek,” Patton says, his nose twitching, a telltale sign he’s holding in laughter. “It’s traditional, where he’s from. Leave him a note that old Patton remembers him, it’ll earn you börek points!”

“Brownie points,” Virgil corrects again, “Patton, did you actually know Santa Claus—”

Patton bursts into giggles, unable to hold up the ruse for very long.

“The figure we know today as St. Nicholas of Myra lived in the 300s,” Logan explains. “He predates Patton by thirteen hundred years, approximately.”

“I can’t believe you fell for that!” Patton cackles, eyes bright, making him look as young as his face presents him to be.

“Yeah, okay,” Virgil says, as Patton pulls Roman into a hug, “you say that like it’s entirely unbelievable when you’ve shown us paintings of you and other completely unreal people like Maid Marian—”

“Aw, I miss her,” Patton says.

“— sorry if Santa Claus is too far out of the realm of belief from the vampire, ” Virgil continues to grumble, even as Patton folds him into a hug, too.

“He has also known Marie Curie,” Logan says, still unable to quite believe it even though he’s practically memorized the missives she had sent Patton. “Also, I may have elevated my threshold of belief to include vampires, selkies, sirens, and banshees, but I absolutely will not be budged to start believing in childhood myths.”

He pins Patton with a look. “And I am still unconvinced that you knew Robin Hood.”

“Well, he wasn’t actually called that then — ” Patton begins.

“Nope!” Roman practically yells. “Nope, Logan, you are not going to take the fact that I am one degree separated from the Merry Men, I refuse to listen to you debate this again, Sheriff of Not-letting-Roman-have-this-one-thing-ingham—”

“All of my research suggests the people you knew were imitators—” Logan begins again.

“As a Christmas gift to me, shut up,” Roman says.

“Roman,” Patton scolds.

“ Please shut up,” Roman amends politely—only his tone is polite, as the words themselves and the eyeroll that accompanies them are not particularly courteous.

Virgil distracts him quite handily by physically turning Roman around and nudging him toward the door.

Patton follows after them, Logan a few steps behind.

“All right, well, be safe going home,” Patton says, beginning on his spiel as Roman and Virgil pull on gloves and scarves. “Are you calling for a ride?”

“Walking,” Virgil says.

Patton makes a discomfited noise. “In this cold?”

“We barely live three blocks away, Ed-worry Cullen,” Roman says, and flaps his arms to show off his new peacoat, a gift from Janus. “We’re all bundled up.”

“All right, well,” Patton says, clearly still fretting, “Text message me when you get home?”

“Just text works,” Logan murmurs, but he can empathize with Patton’s difficulty with memorizing certain terms; it’s just that Patton’s are mostly technological in nature, and Logan’s are slang. Back when they first met, Patton still had the occasional slip-up and called texts telegrams.

“Text me,” Patton corrects himself, smiling at Logan and squeezing his hand in silent thanks before turning his attention back to Roman and Virgil.

“We will,” Virgil says, and amends, “or at least, I will,” because Roman was notorious for promising he’d text when he got home only to wake up to fifteen missed calls from Patton because he’d forgotten to do so.

“Good,” Patton says with a sigh of relief, then, “All right, bring it in!”

Logan releases Patton’s hand so Patton can step forward and hug Roman and Virgil simultaneously; Roman pulls a face at him over Patton’s shoulder, likely still stung by Logan’s accurate theory about the validity of the so-called Merry Men Patton had been acquainted with.

Though Logan is the correct one, Patton may believe that those people were the original Robin Hood and his band of thieves, but he was most likely deceived considering the earliest myths of Robin Hood originated two hundred years prior to Patton’s birth, even if Patton protests that the dates of the origin of many myths during his human life are incorrectly cited—

Logan presses his lips together in an expression that is not reciprocating the face that Roman pulled at him. Logan is correct; he can rest easily knowing this. And perhaps Christmas is not the proper time to bring up this oft-rehashed debate.

Even though Logan is right. It should not be oft-rehashed because he is right.

“Merry Christmas, Brainy Swan,” Roman says, stepping forward to give Logan a hug that Logan would describe as brotherly, except he knows Roman’s brother and this is far too tame, even if there is more back-slapping and hair ruffling than Logan would prefer.

“I am not anything like Isabella Swan,” he begins—this is an oft-rehashed debate, too, but this one is far more teasing in nature; Logan, at least, has the retort of pulling up any image of a particularly hideous mermaid mock-up or ugly fish and showing it to him with the (Virgil-taught) response “This you?”—and Roman rolls his eyes.

“Stop denying the Twilight renaissance, Lucy Weste- nerd -a,” Roman says, and reaches out to pluck at the patched elbow of Logan’s tweed jacket, even as he’s hugging Patton goodbye. “You’re dressed Victorian enough—”

“Patton isn’t anything like Dracula,” Logan disputes this time, because obviously Patton would never drink Logan’s blood or turn him without his consent. He straightens his waistcoat, and is about to reach into his pocket, grab his phone, and show Roman the image of a blobfish he has saved for a special occasion to tell him that this is clearly his long-lost twin, not Remus.

He may or may not have rehearsed this with Virgil to ensure a devastating effect.

“Can we please go before you two spend all of Christmas Eve talking about vampire franchises,” Virgil groans.

“Yeah, as fun as that is, most nights, this is kind of a special night!” Patton says brightly. If it were anyone else, Logan would wonder if he should attempt to scan his tone for sarcasm, but Patton probably does think it’s fun.

Virgil steps forward to hug Logan next; a one-armed hug around the shoulders, quick. It’s what they’re both best with, really; abrupt, swift affection that can be moved on from in a tidy manner.

“Merry Christmas, L,” Virgil says, then he steps forward to allow Patton to give him a more substantial hug; Patton wraps his arms around Virgil’s shoulders, squeezing him tight, his eyes shuttering for a brief moment, his face becoming gaunt.

“Merry Christmas, Pat,” Virgil says in a very quiet voice.

“Merry Christmas, V,” Patton says, his voice equally quiet and a touch strained.

Something deep in Logan aches at the sight of them before the look on Patton’s is wiped clean, so abruptly it’s almost as if Logan’s imagined it, and Patton inhales deeply and lets go of Virgil.

“Text me,” Patton reminds them, as Roman and Virgil step off the front stoop.

“I will,” Virgil promises.

Roman’s face splits into a grin, and he calls back, “Merry Christmas, Elena Gil-boring!”

Logan’s head whips around, and he opens his mouth to respond—he isn’t sure with what— and the world surrounding him spins, and he’s weightless, airborne, and as suddenly as it started, it’s stopped. He sees Patton smile at him before Logan closes his eyes, the world still spinning in a way that is distinctly unpleasant.

“Okay?” Patton asks, gently touching Logan’s shoulder.

“Mm. Dizzy.” Logan takes in a deep breath through his nose—the smoke off the fire, the lingering scents of their dinner and desserts, peppermint—and releases it, shaky, through his mouth, before he chances opening his eyes again.

“Sorry,” Patton says, guilt in his tone.

“It’s all right,” Logan says, and he smirks a little. “I’m sure Roman would have said something to interrupt the Yuletide peace if you hadn’t.”

“Yes, Roman would have,” Patton teases, amused, before he blurs for a moment and comes into focus just as quickly, Logan’s empty mug in his hands, one of his many fluffy blankets over his arm—Patton is almost always eager to use his preternatural speed when they are alone in his home. “Would you like another?”

Logan evaluates it; he does not drink very often, but it is a holiday, and he has eaten a sufficient amount and kept well-hydrated today. Though, he does not usually get too vertiginous when Patton moves him quickly, unless they are moving a great distance, he does have reason to suspect that the alcohol is the reason for it today. He’ll have to mention it to Patton; so long as he avoids that, and keeps it to this last mug, he should not face any unfortunate aftereffects in the morning.

“Yes, please,” he decides.

Patton kisses his temple and casts the blanket in front of the fireplace with great fanfare, fluffing it up so that it is at optimum comfort levels, before he unfolds another with an equal amount of fanfare, wrapping it around Logan’s shoulders. Logan smiles at him in thanks, as he knows the blanket is likely for his benefit—Patton frets about Logan getting too cold when they cuddle due to their disparate temperatures—and there’s a rush of artificial wind as Patton zooms to the kitchen.

Logan wraps the blanket around himself a little more securely as he settles in front of the fire, taking a moment to adjust the wood with the poker, listening to the popping crackle that allows him to lean back in time to watch the spray of sparks leap up the chimney. There’s the sound of a needle being lifted off a vinyl, the vinyl being replaced, and the needle lowered back down; Patton has switched them to an album of orchestral performances of Christmas songs.

Another rush of wind, then, a soft tap of fingers at the top of his head. Logan tilts his head back to look up at him.

Patton’s smiling down at him, eyes reflecting the last remaining sparks, his dark eyes catching the light like stars. He cradles the mug in his hand, and, despite the great speed at which he had moved, he has not spilled a drop.

“Here you are, love.”

“Thank you, dear,” Logan says, placing the poker back where it’s meant to be before he accepts the mug. Patton takes the time to settle in beside him, setting a tray on the hearth, before he wraps his shoulders in the fluffy blanket, too.

Logan smiles a little at the sight of the tray. One half would pass as a traditional, human charcuterie board, if perhaps a bit heavier on jellies than most. The other half is crowded with sectioned blood oranges, a small bowl of pomegranate seeds, raspberries, cherries, and strawberries, all foods as red as Patton’s punny Christmas sweater. It says Merry Chrismath! on it, with math formulas sketched out to form the shape of a Christmas tree, which Patton had purchased specifically because the corners of Logan’s lips had turned up at the sight of it in the store.

Patton takes a sip from his own mug—from the smell of it, mulled wine—and sighs in satisfaction.

“This feels very human, doesn’t it?” Patton asks Logan, as if he is asking for Logan’s approval, and in all honesty he probably is; Patton has been undead for so long that the memories of his human life are dim and distant. “Sitting in front of the fire, eating snacks. About to cuddle.”

It does feel rather human—all he has to do is pretend that his boyfriend is a red food enthusiast, rather than, for whatever reason, red foods being passable enough to a vampire that they are the only human foods he can stomach.

He doesn’t waste time pretending, though. Why should he, when his reality is stranger than fiction?

Logan presses his cheek to Patton’s shoulder, for a moment.

“I’m perfectly satisfied with this being a shared vampire-human experience,” Logan says, deliberately misunderstanding why Patton is asking. He likes that Patton is a vampire; it is part of him, it is why they have been able to meet. He does not understand why Patton sometimes seems to act like Logan would prefer a human boyfriend, because he wouldn’t. He prefers Patton.

“Well,” Patton says, his voice almost unbearably soft. “I suppose I’m all right with that too.”

Logan reaches for his own mug and takes a sip, before, once again, pressing his cheek against Patton’s shoulder in a way that presses his hair against Patton’s face.

Patton huffs softly in amusement. “Are you trying to get me to smell you?”

“I find it interesting,” Logan says, and he does; the amount of data Patton can deduce by one smell is absolutely astounding. He has plans for a more specific experiment, which he will ask Patton to conduct on a day he is bored and amenable to such suggestions.

Patton hesitates, just for a little bit, before Logan scoots closer, about to tilt so that some of his more major arteries will be closer to his nose.

“All right, then, for Christmas.”

Patton presses his nose against Logan’s hair, kissing the crown of his head, before he inhales, slowly, curiously, like someone trying to place what’s cooking in a kitchen without being able to see what is being prepared.

“And?” Logan asks.

“Mm,” Patton hums, getting his thoughts in order, before he inhales again, this time as if he is a sommelier inhaling the scent of a fine vintage. “Well, you, my favorite smell in the whole world.”

Logan feels very warm in a way that has nothing to do with the blanket, Patton’s arm around his shoulders, or the fire before them.

“You washed your hair this morning—oh, this is a new shampoo!”

“You didn’t like the other one, you thought it was too chemical-y,” Logan says. “I finished it yesterday.”

“Ooh, thank you,” Patton says. “Not that you didn’t smell lovely without the overtone of whatever phoenix is supposed to smell like, but I like this one much better—ooh, lemongrass? You’re spoiling me.”

Logan grins into Patton’s collarbone; really, only Patton would think that a new shampoo scent was spoiling.

“And the usual soap smell,” Patton says. “Sweat, skin, deodorant, your aftershave. You walked by someone smoking today; tobacco and herbal cigarettes, that’s unusual, those were way more common back in the forties—damiana, blackberry leaf, rose, and,” another inhale, “hibiscus and mullein. Gosh, the thought of those takes me back.”

Logan is about to ask—perhaps a past acquaintance or friend smoked something similar in those days—but Patton moves on without ruminating on it further, which makes Logan feel an odd prick of pride; nostalgia has been one of Patton’s greatest strengths, true, but also one of his greatest downfalls.

“Did you have tacos for lunch yesterday? I can smell the spicy salsa still.”

“You cannot,” Logan says, still stunned, even after years, at the amount of things Patton can detect. He’s probably smelling the capsaicin in his salsa, for one, but Patton can also smell certain chemicals the body produces: illness, for example, but also things like cortisol and oxytocin.

“Mhm, makes my nose itch a little. And I can smell the stuff we had at the party, and for dinner last night and breakfast this morning, so it wouldn’t be as fun for you if I listed that off...” Another inhale. “Oh, and I can tell you’re a little tipsy.”

“I think that’s probably why I got dizzy when you ran with me earlier.”

Patton kisses his forehead as a form of apology. “And. You’re happy.”

Logan pulls back just enough, just so he can look Patton in the eyes.

There are a great many supposed vampire stories that claim to know the color of a vampire’s eyes; blood red, commonly, but yellow or gold were popular ideas, as well. Silver, sometimes. Almost always, the presumed color was a color not found in nature.

Patton’s eyes are so dark a brown they are practically black, the iris near indistinguishable from his pupil unless someone was shining a direct light at them. They were the same color when he was human, Patton thinks; he has an illustration of his mother hidden away upstairs, and they are identical in shape and shade. They are beautiful, and captivating, and full of the warmth and love that are so perfectly, wonderfully Patton.

“I hope you don’t have to smell me to know that,” Logan says, and then, fumblingly, “I mean—I am aware you can smell my oxytocin, but I hope you know that I am without relying on that sense. That I am happy, I mean. Because I am. I do not tell you how you make me feel enough and I feel the need to do so now and articulate it clearly. You make me incandescently, impeccably happy. I am deeply in love with you. I could not have imagined the way my life is now, but I do not want it any other way, because you have made my life so much better.”

Patton’s expression has softened, his head tilting to the side, his lips tilted up into a smile, his eyes so full of affection that Logan almost has the urge to look away, overwhelmed. But Logan, bolstered by something —the Bailey’s and peppermint schnapps, the Christmas spirit, his own love for Patton, he isn’t sure which or if it’s a combination of all of them—keeps looking at him, savoring the expression, before his hand drifts up to cup Patton’s jaw.

They lean in simultaneously, and Logan’s eyes drift shut as he presses his lips to Patton’s once again; this time, without anyone to watch or heckle, Patton’s soft lips part easily for him, Patton’s fingers tangling in his hair, and Logan shivers a little with pleasure as Patton’s tongue brushes against Logan’s bottom lip. Patton is always, always so intolerably tender with him, so careful and deliberate, as if Logan is something to be savored, something exquisite and vitreous that needs to be handled delicately, something precious.

Logan tries his best to treat him in kind. He touches Patton’s face, Patton’s mouth and lips and tongue, eternally cool to the touch, with the kind of mindfulness he gives to pipettes and microscopes and test tubes, as if touching Patton in a way that is any less than the amount of devotion and love Patton deserves will irrevocably contaminate the results of his hypothesis.

But then Patton’s tongue brushes against his own, and Logan gasps, and he moves to kiss Patton with the devotion and love and passion that ignites in Logan’s stomach, burning hotter than a Yule log, his heartbeat thudding rapidly in his ears, and Logan presses himself even closer to Patton, so wonderfully chilled to the touch, the only thing that could temper the heat flaring to life in Logan’s stomach to something bearable, the only thing that brings balance, something as undeniably well-paired as the heat source and the heat sink—they bring each other thermodynamic equilibrium, romantic equilibrium, equilibrium in all things—

Patton pulls away, just in time, just as Logan needs to break away to gulp in a breath that Patton does not need to take, and Logan looks at Patton, whose eyes are flaring with their own kind of heat.

“I love you too,” Patton says, and he presses his forehead to Logan’s, inhaling deeply; Logan wonders if his body has started producing dopamine and norepinephrine and serotonin and vasopressin, if Patton can smell it.

“I love you so much,” Patton says again, his voice trembling with the weight of it.

Patton wraps his arms around Logan’s waist, pulling him into his lap, and Logan wraps his arms around him. Patton cuddles closer, rubbing his cheeks against Logan’s hair almost like a cat.

“I love you too,” Logan says, “I love you.”

Patton bundles the blanket around them, the fire crackling and the ebb and flow of string music in the background, and Logan presses a kiss to Patton’s cheek.

“I love you,” Patton repeats.

I love you, I love you, I love you, they whisper at each other, wrapped up in a blanket until the fire sputters down to embers, Patton’s cold skin keeping Logan from overheating, the pair of them exchanging kisses that only slightly tip into overly passionate, always returning to holding each other, cuddling in front of the fire, even as Logan’s eyelids slip lower and lower as the moon rises higher and higher in the sky, so comfortable and so adored and so absolutely, completely sated that he cannot help but drift off in the comfort of it, one thing ringing in his ears that carries him off to a deep, dreamless sleep.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

#my post #text #my fic #my fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #logicality

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princessamericachavez · 4 years ago

Text

Little Fjorester things from ep 115

I KNOW THEY WERE LITTLE BUT LET ME ENJOY THE CRUMBS WE GET BECAUSE THEY ARE STILL ADORABLE LIKE PLS:

Jester giving Fjord her sketchbook?

Like, that’s basically her diary and the way she worship(ed) the traveler and there’s probably so many personal things in there

AND YOU’RE TELLING ME IT’S IN HIS POSSESSION RIGHT NOW?

He said he shoved it into his pocket after Daggen’s awful sketch but like

will Travis remember he has it?? (probably not)

Did he see anything as he passed the pages to find a blank page? (yes pls lemme dream)

JUST LOOK AT THEM

It’s like she’s giving him a little piece of herself and he’s so happy to accept it, I’m-

“What if they turn into turtles or something?? Fjord, that would be your nightmare!”

LMFAO THE BANTER I CAN’T DJAFÑAJD

“Some creatures hunt for sport here.”

Jester: “The animals?”

Fjord (softly): “I don’t think he’s talking about animals.”

LOOK AT HIS FACE HE’S SO SOOOOOOFT

Jester: “Oh... the monsters. Right.”

“What if it starts like just a physical thing but then slowly over the week’s that you’re guiding them you start to realize, like, ‘oh my gos, I think I might t have feelings for them but I can’t let them know because there’s an unwritten code’ and it gets awkward and then the long glances”

[...] “And then you have to pretend, you have to pretend for the rest of your life that it didn’t mean anything!”

YEAH

YOU KNOW WHAT

YOU KNOW WHAT LAURA BAILEY

YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO COME FOR ME (and your hubby) LIKE THAT

okay okay okay moving on

listen

THE SCRY

like the way he starts all casual and curious fjord because that’s how he usually is and trying to be all coy about it but then Matt Mercer blesses us by specifying it’s only a couple feet away from Jester

And you can see the moment it CLICKS’s for Fjord that this orb is scrying on Jester

AND DAMN FJORD JUST FREEZES LIKE THIS FOR A SOLID FIVE SECONDS

AND JUST GIVES A LITTLE ‘HMM’ AND THE SMALLEST NOD

AS HE REALIZES

DLKFJAÑDKLFJA

FJORD GOING INTO PROTECTIVE MODE YESSSSSS

And That’s when he actually walks straight to the thing, still pretending not to see it

and he steps next to it and does this sharp breath as he turns to look at Jester

Right before he drops that bomb

“It seems like we’re not the only ones watching. If you try to hurt my friends I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth. Keep. Your. Distance.”

I’M SO SAD THAT LUCIEN PROBABLY DIDN’T HEAR THAT

LISTEN

MATT

PLS JUST BEND THE RULES FOR ME

GIVE IT TO ME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

still *breaths in and out* okay it’s fine because he still said that, still meant it, so it’s fineeee

AND THE WAY HE TELLS HER

Trying to soften the blow, clearly, because he doesn’t want to make her anxious

“But, Jester, it was located where you were. Perhaps it’s the Gentleman or perhaps it’s...”

“I don’t think he can do it.”

And then Veth suggests Lucien knows Jester now because of the scrying spell and he’s immediately like “Does Lucien know her now, though, because of the scrying spell?”

“Fjord, if that happens again, just wake me up. I can dispel it.”

IDK THEIR QUIET LOOKS

LOOK AT THEM

And then Fjord and Caduceus bring up the possibility that Lucien could properly see Jester and not just a ‘scrying ball’

And she’s clearly distressed by it

So Jester does what Jester does and jokes about how she might have looked like inside the ball

And Fjord plays along, sort of, saying her mouth was open when she slept which is definitely an attempt to cheer her up

“You were sleeping with your mouth open, if it’s any consolation.”

And it works because it’s funny and just LOOK AT THEM

HE’S SO PROUD THAT HE MADE HER SMILE AT LEAST A LITTLE

every time

im just

The way they always focus on each other during group chaos

like how she’s so offended that fjord suggests yasha use her sword to dispel the necromantic stone

“I can dispel it! I have dispel!”

“Oh, right!”

LMFAO LOOK AT THIS DUMMIES

(also some side delicious Beauyasha with Beau yelling “i am not having yasha walk up and hit it with her sword!)

okay and then, of course, Jester wants to pull a prank pointing people towards the Emerald

and first when Caleb tries to disuade her because “that’s murder” she snaps back “well they should be smarter than that” (lol meaning Caleb)

but then Fjord says “it’s a bit much” and says he would’ve gone for it if he’d seen her sign and her immediate response is so much softer like-

And then by the end, after they both try to convince her...

they share this super long glance and he quietly says “leave it?” and she finally gives in

BECAUSE SHE TRUSTS HIS JUDGEMENT THE MOST OK???

SHE DOES

AND HE’S USUALLY DOWN FOR SHENANIGANS EXCEPT IF SOMEONE COULD GET HURT

AND HE KNOWS SHE DOESN’T WANT PEOPLE TO GET HURT

BECAUSE, LIKE HE SAID IN RUMBLECUSP, HE KNOWS SHE CARES

OK OK OK OK

look listen this is ooc but also not so hear me out

so they went to break before the yeti attack right?

and jester and fjord were both inside of the net

and then Yasha helps Jester out of it

but Travis is still super stressed and looking at his spells

AND I’M PRETTY SURE HE WAS PLANING ON HOW TO GET THEM BOTH OUT WITH A SPELL OR SOMETHING

(they probably planned it on the break???)

because Laura turns to Travis and she’s like “did you hear that? I just got free of the net” and his whole body language relaxes like “oh, good... wait how”

anyway

YES HE WAS GOING TO GET HER OUT YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND

and then and then and then

before they realized Fjord had advantage to get out of the net

they were planning for him to shoot eldritch blast

and then jester was going to hold the net up for him

LISTEN

i choose to imagine this conversation happened during battle ok?

you can’t stop me

and speaking about fjorester being protective of each other

Lucien messages Jester

and a) travis just drops the thing he’s looking at which is hilarious, b) fjord does not look happy when jester tells them, but not in an angry way but in a *hundred yards stare i’m gonna kill that fucker* kinda thing

Fjord, after noticing another scrying orb: Oh, yes... they seem to be locked on you again.

Jester: *fails to dispel it*

Jester: Is it gone?

Fjord, looking at it: Yes.

Fjord: You got it.

Jester: Really? Oh my gosh! I’m so good at this!

LOOK AT THAT SMILE OKAY HE IS SO IN LOVE I CAN’T

OKAY FIRST OF ALL

THIS IS ONLY THE SECOND LIE FJORD HAS EVER TOLD JESTER AND THAT FUCKS ME UP OKAY?

BUT ALSO

he’s just trying to ease her mind

she’s clearly upset what with lucien being able to see her, scrying on her and now messaging her... she’s annoyed and pissed and —scared—

so Fjord, going back to his protective mode, lies to ease her mind

if there’s nothing they can do about the scrying right now, at least he can make her feel like she got back at the fucker who dispelled her before

okay that’s all

tune in next week (maybe) for more yelling

who’s excited for tonight?

#fjorester #fjord stone #jester lavorre #critical role #sofia's nonsense #man i haven't done one of this in a while but here you goooooo

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pagingevilspawn · 4 years ago

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Can you write something in the timeline for season six in which Alex leaves Izzie and leaves Seatle for Jo. After a few years, Jo ends up in the hospital having a baby, and they go to the emergency room where Izzie, Meredith and the others are, and while she's nervous she talks about her husband leaving her for a wife with cancer and so on, and then Alex shows up.

moving on, letting go

PLEASE DON’T SKIP THIS!

I was intrigued by this prompt, but I had to change some things up. This seemed like another affair thing, so I wanted to change that. I don’t like affairs, (I’m serious. I don’t). Here’s some things you gotta know!

1) Alex and Izzie got a divorce. he didn’t leave her while she had cancer. I'm going with what’s exactly canon in season 6. Alex didn’t leave izzie and seattle for jo, he left on his own account and met jo later on. 2) after leaving seattle, izzie returned to grey-sloan for her fellowship. (it’s before she would’ve had the twins in canon-verse). 3) There’s less of an age gap between them than there is in canon.

also, i don’t know how to write izzie. so if she’s OOC, that’s why. it’s actually izzie-centric though, because i couldn’t see this going any other way. the ending is also a bit rushed, because i really jut wanted to post something.

three years after alex leaves seattle, he finds himself back there, with his ex-wife as the one to deliver him and jo’s child.

“Incoming trauma! Thirty year old female who was rear ended on the 95. No damage was done except for the fact that she was in active labor. They’re bringing her here now. Page L&D, and get a room ready!” Doctor Miranda Bailey shouts, her booming voice heard by everyone in the ER. Interns scuttle around, trying to fulfill their bosses wishes at her beck and call. She may not be the chief, but she sure seemed like she was. She had the ability to command anyone in the room, and never took no for an answer. Taking over the ER that day wasn’t something that she had planned, but both Hunt and Kepner had come down with something nasty and she was the only surgeon available.

It was only a few minutes later when the gurney comes rolling in, carrying a pretty brunette who was wincing through her contractions, gripping the handle bars so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

Izzie Stevens rushes over to her, as for she was the on-call OB, following the gurney into a room. She snaps on a pair of gloves, brushing a stray piece of blonde hair out of her eyes. “Hi there, I’m Doctor Stevens. I’m gonna lift up your shirt so we can make sure your baby isn’t in distress. Is that okay…” she trails off, pulling the ultrasound closer to the gurney and grabs the jelly, shaking it as both a way to prepare it and stall some time while she waited for a response.

“Doctor Wilson,” the girl in the bed answers, nose scrunching up as she feels another swift kick to the ribs. “Sorry—” she stutters a laugh, “Habit.” she answers “Jo. Jo Wilson. But I am a doctor, so no need to give me all the watered down crap.”

Izzie gives the woman a sincere smile, appreciating the upfrontness. “Good to know Doctor Wilson.” She lifts up the woman’s shirt, squirting on the ultrasound jelly, smearing it around until the woman's stomach is properly covered. She moves the wand around until the heartbeat thumps through the monitor. “Steady and strong. You’re very lucky Doctor Wilson. I’m gonna send you up to L&D now, but I’ll be sure to be there to monitor you.” she adds some notes into her tablet before turning back to Jo. “Is there anyone you would like to call? Are you waiting on the father or are you doing this independently?” she asks, peeling off her gloves and dumping them in the bin.

Jo shakes her head, loose curls flying back and forth. “No my—” she’s cut off by another contraction, and she lets out a large, staggering breath as she clenches her eyes shut, waiting for it to pass, and it does twenty-three seconds later. “My boyfriend is on his way.”

Izzie nods, “Well, we’ll get you set up and I’ll be up in a few minutes so I can check your cervix Doctor Wilson.” she says, getting closer to the door, ready to assess another pregnant mother.

“Thank you. And please, if you're going to be looking up my vagina, you can call me Jo.” she grins, her voice taking a teasing undertone.

The blonde gives a small chuckle, her ponytail shaking as she moves her head back and forth. “Will do Jo.”

She turns out of the room and uses the stairs to take her to the L&D floor, where the sound of expecting mothers in labor couldn’t be missed. She checks on a few patients, seeing how far they had advanced while she had momentarily stepped away. Not too long after she enters a new room, where Jo was glaring at a spot in an empty corner, trying to get through yet another contraction.

When Jo sees the woman enter, she lets out a low laugh. “I swear, if he doesn’t get here soon I am going to murder him with my bare hands.” she says, only half serious.

The blonde laughs, shaking her head fondly. “Is he close?” she asks, putting on yet another pair of gloves, this time pink.

“Thankfully,” she sighs. “This baby wasn’t supposed to come for another two weeks. My boyfriend has a conference here at UDub, and he told me so many times that I can’t go but of course I fought him on it, because I can’t sleep if he’s not next to me and neither can the baby. I realized about five hours in that I made a stupid mistake, because I had to pee every thirty minutes, and I was sure my boyfriend wanted to toss me out of the car. He didn’t though, because he loves me way too much. Thank god. So he cancelled his flight and quite literally drove across the country with me so that I can sleep at night, and now I’m going into labor two weeks early, while he’s at a lecture.” Jo rambles, not letting out a single breath until she was done.

Her eyes widen, an embarrassed flush creeping up onto her cheeks as she avoids eye contact, biting her bottom lip between her teeth. “Sorry,” she apologies. “I tend to go into long speeches when I’m nervous.”

Izzie just smiles, giving the woman a reassuring pat on the leg. “It’s okay, I would say labor is a good time to be nervous. Is it okay that I lift up your gown?”

Jo nods, “Yes, sorry. Let’s see how close this baby is to coming out of a very tiny hole.” she chuckles, trying to lessen her nerves to the best of her ability. She really was terrified. Her pregnancy had not been planned what-so-ever. It hadn’t been easy, between all-day sickness and the occasional spotting, she had been in constant fear. But besides all of that, she had to come clean to Alex about everything, her abusive husband, her abortion, her name-change… It was something that she had worried about immensely, the fear of him leaving and wanting nothing to do with her once he found out about her past keeping her up some nights. She still had the occasional dream that she would wake up to an empty bed with only a note left on the pillow, ‘I can’t do this’. Alex helped her through it though, and when she spilled her past to him all he did was envelope her in his arms while she cried, placing kisses in her hair as she wet his shirt with her tears.

I’m not going anywhere Jo, he told her, and after nine long months, she knew that he was sticking to his word. She just really wished he was here right now, because contractions hurt like a son of a bitch.

“So,” the blonde snaps her out of her thoughts, “You’re a doctor. Where?” Jo knew she was trying to distract her from the pain, and for that she was more than thankful.

“Johns Hopkins. I’m a surgical resident and my boyfriend is a pediatric fellow.”

The woman at her feet looks impressed, giving her a small smile as she checks Jo’s cervix. “When you said you were a doctor I was kind of expecting it to be from some kind of hospital I’d never heard of, no offense.”

Jo laughs, “None taken.” She was used to it by now. On multiple occasions when she was asked where she worked she was met by a bit of silent surprise. Even if you weren’t in the world of medicine, you knew Johns Hopkins.

Izzie flips the gown back down, “You’re about four centimeters dilated, if you want an epidural now would be your last chance.”

The brunette shakes her head. “No thanks. I’m gonna push this baby’s giant head out drug-free and regret it later on.” she brushes back a stand of hair, “That wasn’t sarcastic. Well,” she scrunches up her face, “It kinda was. But no, no epidural.” she settles on, just as another contractions comes through. She hisses through her teeth, and both of them waiting until it was over.

The woman chuckles, “I’m seriously gonna kill him if he’s not here within the next thirty seconds.”

As if to prove her point, Jo grabs her phone from the bag next to her bed, scrolling through it until she reaches Alex’s contact. Harshly slamming on the call button, she brings the phone to her ear, not needing to wait long until the familiar voice reaches her ears.

“Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?!” she hisses into the phone, clutching it closer to her ear as if it would make her words even louder and bring him to her quicker.

“I’m about twenty minutes away. There’s some really bad traffic and I'm backed up pretty badly. Taking the side streets isn’t an option either. Just remember to breathe, and I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” Jo sighs, rolling her chapped lips together. Him telling her to breathe in all honesty wanted to make her slap him, but she resisted solely because of the fact that he wasn’t there yet. “I love you.”

“Love you too, —oh wait, you do know you’re where I used to work right?” Alex asks her through the phone, and she can practically hear the smile in his voice.

“What? I thought you worked at Seattle Grace?”

“I did. Turns out they changed the name. Grey-Sloan Memorial. Guess I know who died.”

She tries to muffle a laugh, but it still comes out in a huff. “Be nice!” Typical of him really, no respect what-so-ever for people, even the dead. He already knew about the passings of his fellow co-workers though, so it wasn’t like he wasn't affected by their deaths. He was still in touch with Meredith Grey, as he told her, texting and skyping on birthdays and holidays, and any free time they had in between. Plus, she’d met the woman multiple times via video calls.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon, bye.”

“Bye.” she pushes the end call button and flops against the bed as gently as she can, because it seems to be as though every small movement sent a pain through her body.

“He almost here?” the blonde questions, lingering in the doorway of the room, waiting to see if she should stay put or check on some other laboring moms.

Jo nods, “He should be here in about twenty minutes.” she sighs. “Fair warning, he’s a peds surgeon, so he’s gonna come in here all high and mighty, acting like an asshole because he doesn’t think anybody can take care of his own baby better than him. But,” she lets a small smile escape. “Just because he acts like an asshole doesn’t mean he is one. You know the type?”

Izzie just laughs, “Oh, believe me, I know the type.”

____

Twenty-five minutes later Izzie is checking Jo’s cervix once more, pulling down her gown once she was done. “You’ve moved up to five centimeters Jo, congrats.” she gives the woman a smile, about to stand up when a man comes through the door.

“Jo, I’m so, so sorry it took so long,” he rounds to the side of the bed, pulling the woman into a side hug and kissing the top of her head.

Izzie froze at the voice, a voice she knew all too well. A voice she hadn’t heard in over three years. The voice of her ex-husband. The voice of the one and only Alex Karev.

“I tried but all of these assholes wouldn’t let me in no matter how many times I blasted the damn horn. Hi, I’m Doc—” his eyes widen comically when he finally turns to face the blonde, hand stuck out straight in front of him.

His mouth hung open, finally clearing his throat after a few seconds of straight silence. “Hi, Izzie,” he settles on, giving a tight lipped smile and a subtle nod of his head.

Jo looks between the two, eyes scrunched until an expression of frustration crosses over her face. “Alex freaking Karev,” she all but seethes.

“Please, please tell me that your ex-wife isn’t the woman who is going to be delivering our baby!” she practically screeches, digging her sharp nails into his hand as she goes through another contraction.

Izzie perks up immediately, “I’m so sorry Doctor Wilson. If you think that this is too weird or a conflict of interest I can gladly recommend another doc—”

Jo immediately shakes her head. “Nope. No, no, no, no, no. I like you, Doctor Stevens, and you’ve already seen up my vagina and I would prefer there not be another person who needs to look up there.” she wipes a bead of sweat off her forehead. “So as long as you two can be professional divorcees, I would greatly appreciate it for the sake of this baby.” she grins sarcastically at the two of them.

She knew it really wasn’t the greatest idea to have her boyfriend’s ex-wife deliver her baby, she knew. But Doctor Stevens was nice, and switching her OB no would just add to the stress that was currently accumulating through her body. If one more thing were to go wrong, she wouldn’t trust herself not to throw something at a wall.

Izzie nods, biting her bottom lip. “Of course. It’ll be no problem Dr. Wilson. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.” With that she turns out of the room, stopping when she was out of sight to bang her head against the wall.

“Oh god.” she mumbles to herself, letting her head stay in its position for a little while longer.

It was going to be a really long day.

____

She drops her tray onto the cafeteria table with a loud sigh, burying her head in her heads for the umpteenth time that afternoon, letting out a long groan as she does so. Meredith and Cristina exchange suspicious looks until the blonde eventually shakes the other woman. “You good?” she asks hesitantly, still unsure of how to act around her old friend.

Izzie had transferred back to Seattle Grace (now Grey-Sloan) just over four months ago to pursue her OB GYN fellowship. They had all changed a bit since the early years of their residency, so most of the time Meredith was overly cautious of how to act. They weren’t the same person they were three years ago. New traumas, relationships, losses… knowing the person they knew then wasn’t the same as knowing the person they did now.

Of course, they still got along well. Izzie had surprisingly made quick friendships with Jackson and April, since all rivalries were now in the past. But knowing how to talk to someone you didn’t know all too well with emotions you haven’t seen on them in years was difficult and something she wasn’t quite sure how to deal with.

“Alex is here,” she lifts her head up from the table, only to be met with one wide-eyed stare, and another confused.

“Yeah,” Meredith pipes in, taking a bite of her fries. “He’s in Seattle, giving a lecture at UDub. How do you know that?” she asks suspiciously.

“Wait, how do you know that?” the blonde asks, furrowing her brows.

Meredith shrugs, “We talk. Skype. We actually have plans to meet up tomorrow as long as I don’t get called in. Why do you know that Alex is here?” she prompts again. Last time she checked, Alex wasn’t in contact with his ex-wife.

“He’s here,” she emphasizes, throwing her hands up in the air.

Cristina smirks, “Stevens, we know he’s in Seattle, but if you’re going around stalking your ex-husband then—”

“No! He’s here here. He’s in the hospital,” she huffs.

Both of the women’s eyes widened, “What happened?” Meredith asks, getting up from her seat, fries already forgotten, while Cristina looks concerned. “Is he okay? Why—”

“No, no he’s fine.” she shakes her head, the gravity of the situation suddenly hitting her full force. “He’s here, with his pregnant girlfriend, who’s in labor.” she states slowly, snatching a fry from her friend’s plate and shoving it into her mouth.

“Jo’s having the baby?!” “Evilspawn knocked someone up?!”

Both women exclaim at the same time, Izzie looking at the two with skeptical eyes. “Wait, Mer you knew?”

The blonde only scoffs, “Of course I knew,” she quickly runs over to the nearest trash can and dumps her tray in, jogging back over immediately after, a tiny bit of ketchup left on her thumb from her fries.

“Mer you never told me anything,” Cristina hisses once she returns, sending her a sharp glare. Her and Alex weren’t really in contact with each other anymore, but whenever she would barge in on a call or Skype session between the two she would join in the conversation easily.

Meredith rolls her eyes, “I forgot,” she states. “But that’s not the point. Izzie, what room are they in?” she asks, eyes wide and frantic.

Izzie only looks stunned. Meredith knew that Alex was seeing someone, more-so, having a kid —and didn’t tell her? It’s not like her ex frequently came up in conversation, but knowing that he was so… far ahead in life was worth mentioning, right?

“What’s that face? I don’t like that face.” she says quickly, noticing the look of disappointment flash across the lighter blonde’s features.

She sighs, composing herself quickly. “Nothing. It’s fine,” she brushes it off, holding eye contact in hopes that it will disarm them. Meredith only raises an eyebrow, and she knows she has to let them know.

“I was thinking about using the embryos,” she says quietly, gauging their reactions. It was the truth. She was at a good place in her career, making a healthy living… she was prepared to take the next step. She’d wanted kids for as long as she could remember, and she felt like now was as good a time as any to move forward.

The blonde only bites her lip, while Cristina takes a sip of her empty drink, practically slurping on ice. “Were you planning on getting back together with him, Stevens? Because that seems like a long shot,” she deadpans, raising her brows.

“God no. I wasn't planning on getting back together with him, I—” she huffs, burying her face in her hands once more. “I wasn’t even planning on telling him.” she sighs dejectedly, averting her eyes away from the two.

“Well that would’ve never worked,” Meredith tells her, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. “I would’ve called Alex you know.”

“I didn’t know you were still in contact with my ex-husband Mer!” she explains.

The darker blonde only chuckles, “Yeah, I would’ve told him if you were planning on it Iz,” half scolding, half disbelief.

“I get that now.”

Meredith sighs, perking up when she remembers why they were having their conversation in the first place. “Which room is Jo in?” she steers the conversation away, knowing that this was a topic for another time and another place.

“119,” she says. “Give me one second to throw my stuff away, I need to do another dilation check.”

The other woman scrunches her brows, “You’re still her doctor?” she asks. If Addison were to suddenly become her OB because of unexpected labor, she wasn’t sure how she would react. Then again, she’d actually met Addison and knew that she was the best of the best, while Jo had never met the blonde before today. She was just known as ‘Alex’s ex-wife’. She wasn’t sure if she would be so easygoing about the situation, but she had gotten to know Jo in the three years she’d been with Alex, and she had quickly learned that when the brunette was thrown curveballs, she found a way to work around them.

“Yeah, she said she didn’t want to change doctors since she already trusted me,” Izzie answers, mentally brushing off her nerves.

She was more than just thinking about using the embryos, she was planning to use them. When her and Alex got divorced, he gave her full rights to the embryos, so whatever she chose to do with it was her choice. Using them or not was entirely in her control, and was going to go through with it. But now… now things were different. She was planning on doing it on her own, raising a little boy or girl by herself, maybe with her friends pitching in every now and then. She had no obligation to tell Alex before, and well, yeah, it would’ve been the right thing to do, she didn’t need to. But Alex was already expecting a kid, and she could tell from their brief interaction, that while he was terrified, he was also over the moon.

She could still go through with it, if she wanted to. Try to find a way to make co-parenting work. But, Alex lived in Maryland, and sending a child across the country every couple of weeks or fighting for custody was something she would hate more than anything else. Plus, Alex already had a family, him and Jo, and the little baby that they were now going to be bringing into the world. For some reason, she didn’t want to disrupt that.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Cristina’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts. “Time to see a baby evil spawn!” ____

Six hours, twenty three minutes, and thirty-four second later, Emily Meredith Karev is brought into the world, screeching at the top of her very healthy lungs, hands curled into fists and kicking her little legs everywhere, only settling down once she was placed on top of her mother’s chest.

The new mom had tears streaming down her face, a mixture of happiness and pain after over forty-five minutes of pushing. Alex had a look of pure joy on his features, a smile so wide it practically reached his ears.

Izzie hustled out of the room a few minutes later, once all tests were done and everything was okay, leaving the new parents to be with friends to celebrate the baby girl. She walks to the nearest vending machine, sliding in a dollar and paying for a bag of barbecue chips. She takes a seat on the nearest gurney shoved against the wall, taking a few moments to finally breathe. Her eyes drift closed as she relaxes, leaning her head against the wall, thankful that no laboring mothers currently needed her attention.

It wasn’t too long after when she heard footsteps coming her way, pausing when they stopped in front of the vending machine. She cracks an eye open to see Alex facing the glass, punching in the buttons A7 for a packet of red-vines.

“Congrats,” she speaks up, causing him to jump, relaxing when he turns around and sees that it was just her.

He gives her his signature half smirk, “Thanks Iz.”

“You’re in trouble though, Alex Karev,” she grins. “That little girl looks just like Jo.” she laughs softly. She may have only been around the newborn for a few minutes, but that was enough to see that the little girl already had a tuft full of dark brown hair, golden-hazel eyes, and Jo’s nose. Already a mini version of her mom.

Alex groans, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t remind me. She’s not allowed to go near anyone until she’s at least thirty-five,” he states, already shaking off the thought of the little girl he loved more than anything in the world dating someone.

Izzie scoffs playfully. “With those looks? You’ll be lucky if she makes it through a day in the nursery without having all the other babies whipped.”

He only smiles good-naturedly, giving her a small smile, letting a few beats of comfortable silence pass between them.

“I’m happy for you, Alex,” she reassures him. And she was. She would always love Alex, but he was a part of her past, the same way she was a part of his. Being in love with someone was different than loving someone, and that was where they both were with each other.

“Thanks Izzie,” he sighs, grateful that she knew that he was still a bit anxious about their whole encounter. “You have any kids?” he asks, hoping for a way to settle his nerves.

She only shakes her head. “No, but I’m thinking about adopting.” It was true. Just because she decided that the embryos were no longer in the running, she wasn’t going to give up on being a mom.

He gives her a smile. “That’d be good for you,” he says. “You’d make a great mom, Iz.” and she knows that he whole-heartily means those words.

She bites her lip, “Thank you, Alex.” she perks up, nodding towards the end of the hallway where Jo’s room was. “And you’re already an amazing dad.”

With that he heads back down the hall, and she smiles to herself, because he already got his happy ending, and she was on the way to having hers.

Things really do happen for a reason.

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red-becca · 3 years ago

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The Streamer And The Model

I republished this with my laptop bc why not? Make it look better. Also, just realized I don't really have anything about Red on here that screams "model" other than it being mentioned. So, yeah. Gonna be writing a sequel of sorts or just another oneshot basically that is connected to this one. Hope you guys can wait for it.

---

"Mmm... Okay then." Kevin hummed as he sets up his face cam for his stream for today. "You guys can see me good, right? I see the comments and all the other stuff you guys say, by the way. About how I need to show my face more and well... Here I am. I still struggle with setting it up on this new program you guys suggested me, so yeah... I set it up earlier than when I'm scheduled to start streaming for it to show up properly." He clears his throat as he looks through the chat. "Anyway, I was gonna say we'll have a good ol' fashion QnA while waiting but you guys are just immediately bombarding me with questions..."

The male snickered as he rubbed his painted nails, shaking his head. "Yes, this is live and unedited. I am wearing black nail polish on my nails. I feel like it should no longer be a shock for people to see guys with nail polish but I get it. I don't seem like the type to do it, right?" He chuckled as he takes off his headphones and showing off the piercing in his right ear. "To shock you guys even more, I got myself a piercing too..."

"My girlfriend basically convinced me to do it, so we match kind of. But you know, I actually quite like how it looks on me. And she even did my nails just for fun and I think she did a great job." He said without even thinking, too focused on admiring his nails. Then his eyes widened as he realized what he had done, gulping as he saw the endless spam he was getting in chat. "Fuck, Red warned me that this would be your reaction once you found out..."

He let out nervous laughter and pushes his index fingers together. "Hehe, yeah... There is no way I am gonna be able to edit out what I said earlier. You guys heard me loud and clear there." Kevin let out some more laughter before taking in a deep breath. "So, I guess, I can't hide it anymore. Yes, I do have a girlfriend. We've dating for... like a really long time now, actually. I never really mention her because... Well, she tells me not to. I've actually been wanting to tell you guys about her for a while now because of how much I just adore her but again, she doesn't want me to tell you about her. Why? I don't really remember exactly but it's something like her not wanting to steal attention from me or something like that..."

Kevin rubbed the back of his neck, reading more of his chat. "You said her name was Red... You won't happen to be talking about famous model, Rebecca McArthur, are you?" He gasps in realization. "Hmm, maybe that's what Red means when talking about stealing attention from me..." The male mumbles before clearing his throat. "Umm, yes actually. She refers to be called Red more, so please. Call her that. But yes, I am dating a famous model but you know, I knew her and dated her before she became said famous model. So, I see her more than just a famous model. There is more to her than that..." He smiled, blushing softly as he thought of Red.

The smile he had on his face immediately faded when he saw his chat saying that he was lying and that he's only saying he's dating a famous model for clout. "Hey! I know it sounds really unbelievable for someone like me dating someone like Red but you guys don't have to say such mean things like that! I really am dating Red! If you don't want to believe me, go ahead! You'll eat your words once you-" He gets cut off by Red suddenly coming into his office.

"Hey, Kev! Started your stream yet? Me and Bailey made some cupcakes for you to try before it starts! Well, it's mostly me. Bailey just slept next to me." Red laughs, peeking through the door with a tray in her hands. "And don't worry about this tasting bad! I followed the recipe you put down to a T! And it tastes exactly how you would cook it!"

Kevin chuckles as he turns his chair to face her. "Heh, thanks for the snack, Red... And uh, my stream has already started, actually... And funny thing, I... I, uh.. I may or may not have accidentally let it slip that me and you are dating..." He let out nervous laughter and pushed his index fingers like earlier.

"You did what?!" Red freaked, almost dropping her tray but she quickly put it in a dresser next to the door. "Kev, I told you! We can't tell people that we're dating!"

"I know! I know! You told me countless times that you didn't want me to tell my fans about us..." He sighed as he rolled his gaming chair towards her, grabbing a cupcake from the tray and eating it. "But I couldn't keep it in. It just came naturally to me to boast about you, Red... You're an amazing girl, I am lucky to be dating someone like you. Like this cupcake tastes really good! Way better than how make it even!" He chuckles and smiles at her as he takes another bite of his cupcake. "So, yeah... I'm really sorry that I ended up spilling the beans there..."

The redhead ended up smiling at his words, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. "I forgive you, my space captain. I am so lucky to be dating an amazing guy like you, after all. Someone who loves me for more than just my looks..." She giggles as she gets her own cupcake and tastes it for herself. "Mmm, not bad. So, uh... How did your fans react to you dating a "famous super model"?" She jokingly waves her hand at the last part of her sentence, giggling and letting out a snort afterwards.

"Oh, you know... First, shock for me even dating anyone in the first place..." They both snickered after he spoke. "And then you know, disbelief because it is just so unbelievable for anyone who isn't that famous to be dating a famous person..." He rolled his eyes.

"Why am I not surprised?" Red laughs, playfully rolling her eyes as she walked towards Kevin's monitor. "So, what's happening now? Is your stream still on or what? You know me, I may play video games but that doesn't mean I know anything when it comes to working a computer..." She giggles.

Kevin chuckled as he rolled back to his desk, nodding. "Yeah, I understand completely. And yeah, my stream is still on. You see us in the monitor, right?" He gets a nod in response. "That's what my fans are seeing right now..." The male chuckles when the girl let out an amazed gasp, giving a small wave. "I got so distracted by you showing up that I completely forgot that I left my stream on." He chuckles more before flinching when Red suddenly slammed her hand on his desk.

"Hey, you fuckwads! I don't know what you've been telling my boyfriend when it comes to not believing him about dating me! But I'm here to tell you fuckos that it's true! We are dating and I couldn't be more happier dating a guy like him!" She smirked. "Still not believing my own words? Well, how's this for more proof?" The redhead grabs his right hand and shows off the matching promise rings they had. "Boom! Matching promise rings, baby! Custom made to fit the wearer's personality!"

Kevin got flustered at her actions. "Red, I appreciate your enthusiasm and all but this feels like too much for me-" He gasped when Red suddenly kisses him on the cheek.

"Sorry, my space captain. Now that you told people about us, I want them to really know that we're an item." She winks at him, causing him to blush. "Well, anyways... Now that your fans know about us... Mind if I join in with you in a stream?! Please?! I always wanted to join a stream but you know... Keeping our relationship a secret." She giggles, an excited grin on her face.

The male nodded, chuckling. "Go grab your gaming chair from the closet then..." He points to said closet, letting out a small noise of surprise when the girl hugged him really tightly. "Woah! Red..."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I literally love you so much right now!" Red gives him a lot of kisses all over his face before giddily rushing to grab the gaming chair. "What are we going to be playing, by the way?!" She opens the walk in closet and goes searching for the gaming chair.

"Hmm..." Kevin turns to his monitor. "Well, I was gonna be playing a random one player game but I guess we can play some Mario Party, maybe..."

Red gasped in amazement, peeking her head out . "And then we can play as Daisy and Luigi like we always do! Ah, I love it! I am actually really happy that you revealed our relationship online now!" She giggles more before going back inside the closet.

"Okay, I'll set up the Switch for us to play that and then..." Kevin starts setting up his Switch then he pauses when he reads his chat again. "Oh... Oh, wow... As you had been worried about, all my chat is all talking about is you now."

"Oh, really?" Red pulls out a gaming chair from the closet, rolling the chair towards where Kevin's was and sat down it. "What have they been saying? Also, just where are people chatting? Like where are you looking at to read what they say?" She squints her eyes as she looks around her monitor for his chat

Kevin chuckles, pointing to the second monitor where he had his chat in. "There. You can read what chat has to see on that monitor."

"Oh! And that's why we bought two monitors! It makes more sense now!" Red giggles, looking at the other monitor and immediately getting angry. "Excuse me?! What are some of these bitches saying?! "Shame he isn't available anymore, I would have loved to date a hottie like him"?! "Why is he even dating the model with the dumb anger issues? He should just break up with her and date someone like me instead, I'd treat him right"?!" She crossed her arms and started to angrily grumble. "Well, I got bad news for you, girls! He's mine and mine alone! You can't have him!"

"Red, Red... Calm down... Breathe..." The male massages her shoulder gently. "Look, just ignore messages like that. I already have the perfect girl in front of me..." He makes her look at him by grabbing a hold of her chin. "Plus, the last thing I'll do is replace you with some fan..."

"But I'm one of your fans..." She pouted up at him. "One of your biggest fans even..."

"I know, I know... I mean them silly..." He gestures to the camera. "Anyway, ready to play some Mario Party?" He grabs one of the Joycons.

"Oh, hell yeah I am!" Red's mood immediately changed, grabbing the joycon. "Get ready to eat Daisy's dirt, Luigi!" She picks Daisy in the character selection.

"Oh, you'll be eating those words, Daisy! Trust me, it'll be Luigi who wins! He is a fan favorite, after all." Kevin smirks before they both laughed and started to play a round of Mario Kart for Kevin's stream.

#sp red tucker #red sp #red x kevin #red mcarthur #sp kevin #kevin stoley #kevin x red #sp red #red tucker #south park red #sp revin #revin #south park #south park ships #sp ships #oneshot

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oboevallis · 4 years ago

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quarantine blues

hey! sorry it’s been a minute since ive posted. a new chapter of unexpected should be up soon and it’s set a bit into the future. this fic i had a couple of prints for and kinda combines them, so i hope y’all like it and are doing well and staying safe!

Amelia dramatically sighed as she fell back into the couch. Scout had been especially fussy lately, Link acted as though he was a child and not an adult, and the kids were giving her a hard time. She knew everyone was under a great deal of discomfort and stress regarding quarantine and the pandemic, but she was at her wits end being blamed by the kids. As if she had planned the whole pandemic to happen just so they could be isolated from their mother. As easy as it was to lose her temper she knew she was the adult and could process her emotions, the kids were still kids so she knew she couldn’t expect the same level of understanding from them. She glanced over to the digital clock reading ‘3:27am’, she hadn’t been able to sleep with Scouts sporadic eating schedule, and resented her boyfriend for being able to get a somewhat decent nights sleep. She knew she shouldn’t have been complaining because Link was up all day wrestling the kids to do their homework and keeping them occupied, so her having to stay up taking care of the baby should’ve been a somewhat fair trade off. But Amelia was mad at everything, all she wished was for none of this to have happened.

“Auntie Amelia?” A small voice came from the dark hallway of the living room, slightly starling the older woman.

“Zozo? What’s the matter?” She reached her arms out for the girl, but she sat at the other end of the couch, so she awkwardly put her arms back to her sides. The girl shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her hands. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

“I-is my mom dead?” Zola asked tears forming in the corners of her eyes, as much as she didn’t want to ask she was desperate for an answer.

“No.” Amelia said firmly, yet reassuringly. “She’s sick, but she has an amazing team of doctors working for her, and they put her in something called a trial to try some medicine out to see if it’ll help her.” She stood up and sat a little closer to the girl, but respected the girls desire for space.

“Why can’t we speak to her? We used to FaceTime her when she was working and then we did for a little bit just when she got sick but now we never get to.”

“Your moms in something called a coma. Her body just needs a little break. It’s kind of like a really really long nap.”

“She’s not dead?”

“She’s not dead.”

“Good.” Zola nodded, before tears streamed down her eyes. Amelia couldn’t help herself and she wrapped the girl in her arms and the girl happily obliged allowing her tears to fall onto her aunts shirt. “Could she die though?”

“Your mom is a fighter, she’s been through so so so much and she’s always survived. There is a possibility though, there’s a lot of things we don’t know about this virus. Your mom’s as strong as they get though.” As much as Amelia wanted to lie and say that Meredith was going to be fine, she knew it wasn’t fair to the girl. Zola was wise beyond on her years, she would’ve seen right through the lies. Kids like Zola need the whole truth so they could properly access the situation themselves. “I want you to know you have a big group of people who love you so so so much. And whatever happens your gonna be okay.”

“Thanks auntie Amelia.”

“Of course. I’m always here if you need to talk.” Zola nodded and allowed herself to fall deeper into her aunts embrace.

________________________________________

Once Amelia settled Zola into bed she made her way into her own bedroom where she found her boyfriend cradling their wide awake son. She smiled at the sight and quietly moved to sit beside the pair, leaning her head on his shoulder. She was content being in the presence of her favorite people, here it felt like nothing was wrong in the world it was just the three of them. A soft knock jarring her out of her peaceful thoughts, she stood up to open the door revealing a distraught Bailey.

“Hey what’s the matter?”

“I had a bad dream.” He confessed softly, clinging his arms to wrap around his aunts legs.

“Want to sleep with me and Uncke Link tonight?” He nodded and walked over to their bed making himself comfortable in the middle of it. Amelia smiled and made her way over to her side of the bed, and pulled the boy into her embrace. “May I ask what your dream was about?”

“I don’t remember. I just remember waking up scared.” He nuzzled his head into his aunts shoulder.

“It’s pretty scary right now.” The older woman confessed, the young boy nodding in agreement. “It’s come to my attention I haven’t really been explaining what’s happening with your mom right now. The only reason she hasn’t called is because she’s in this thing called a coma so basically she’s just sleeping for a little bit until her body is ready to work better. Make sense?”

“Yeah.” He said softly. His dream had been about his mother which made him sad and scared. He was sad he didn’t get to see her, and scared because he knew she was sick. But his aunts reassurances made him a little less scared. “Can I ask a question?”

“Of course.” Amelia nodded, slightly scared for the question that was about to come her way, but to her luck her boyfriend had just put the baby in his crib allowing him to slipinto their bed behind her shifting them all towards the left side, so she knew wasn’t going to face this question alone.

“What happens if my mommy doesn’t get better? Will Me and Zola and Ellis go to an orphanage?”

“No, you won’t. You’ll stay right here at home, with Uncle Link, auntie Maggie and I.” She loved these kids as her own and would do anything for them, but hoped it wouldn’t come to that. They need Meredith, she was their mother. There were so many things she’s still needed to teach her kids, and things she still needed her sisters guidance on.

“But guess what, Bailey?” Link said wrapping his arm around his girlfriend to comfort her a bit. “Your mom is super duper strong, kinda like ‘The Hulk’ she’s a fighter, and I know she’s fighting really really hard for you and your sisters.”

“My moms nothing like ‘The Hulk’” Bailey giggled at the ridiculous statement.

“Your wrong she’s a lot like him. She’s super strong, super smart, she heals people, and have you seen her when she gets mad?” The young boy seemed to consider this before admitting his uncle had a point. Amelia fell asleep between the two as they rambled on about superheroes, before the two also succumbed to sleep.

_______________________________________

“Hey Elle Belle.” Amelia smiled as she leaned against the doorway to her room. After her conversations with the other kids she needed to check in and see how the youngest was holding up.

“Hi.” The girl sighed softly, looking up from her dolls.

“Can I play with you?” The girl simply nodded in response, her aunt lowering herself down slowly onto the floor next to her niece. Ellis explained the characters and what was happening, and the two played peacefully with one another, before the girl spoke up.

“When will we be able to go back to school, and when will mommy come home from work?” The girl put the doll she was playing with down and expectingly looked at her aunt.

“I don’t know.” Amelia admitted honestly. “But the more everyone cooperates and follows the rules the sickness could go away faster. And once the doctors find a vaccine that’ll help a lot too.”

“Are you making a vaccine? Or mommy or auntie Maggie?”

“No, we aren’t those kinds of doctors. Your auntie Maggie is helping people with the sickness feel better, and right now your mom has the sickness, but she has a really really good group of doctors work on her.”

“That’s good. All the doctors mommy works with are really smart.”

“Yeah, your right.” The neurosurgeon smiled to herself, Ellis had been picking up on Links optimism.

“Will you need to go back to work?”

“Well.” Amelia felt useless being at the house, while people were dying everyday, but she had a baby who depended on her and a trio of kids who did as well. “Not right now, I’m still on maternity leave. If they need help with a case I’ll go in, but I’m going to be here with you kids.”

“That’s good.” Ellis nodded twirling the dolls hair in her hand. “I’d be sad if we couldn’t see you. Like we can’t see mommy and auntie Maggie.” The girl then moved herself and into her aunts lap.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Amelia whispered holding the girl tightly, trying her hardest not to cry.

#amelia shepherd #amelink #atticus lincoln #baby amelink #greys anatomy #greysanatomy #greys fanfic #greys anatomy fanfic #zola shepherd #bailey shepherd #ellis shepherd #scout lincoln

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chachkayes · 4 years ago

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The Perfect Christmas

IT’S DONE! With 5 minutes to spare on Christmas day, the Merhayes fic is finally done. I won’t ramble too much, but this is super fluffy and domestic, and I think I’m happy with the result, despite my lack of a festive mood today. I hope you all enjoy!

“Momma! Hayes! It’s time to wake up!” Ellis Shepherd yelled as she knocked furiously on the door to her mother’s bedroom. A few seconds later, her brother and sister came scampering up behind her and started pounding on the door along with her. It was 6:30am on Christmas day. Meredith had woken herself and her boyfriend up approximately 15 minutes before she expected her young children to come barging into the room, demanding that they open presents. “Right on time.” Meredith said with a laugh as she got up to open the door. This had become routine for her since Zola was old enough to understand that Christmas morning meant she was about to get spoiled rotten. Then, of course, Bailey joined her, and now Ellis was finally getting to the age where she understood the magic around Christmas.

Cormac Hayes hadn’t had to deal with children pestering him to open presents since his boys were much younger. He had been able to set boundaries and rules with them. Christmas hadn’t really felt the same since Abigail had passed away anyways, so their festivities hadn’t been incredibly spectacular in the past few years. That all changed when he fell in love with Meredith Grey. They’d been together for almost 4 years, but this was their first Christmas living together with their family under one roof. Previous Christmases were usually spent apart in the morning, then going over to one of their houses for dinner and gift exchanges in the evening.

Meredith opened the door to her room and the children bolted in, immediately jumping on the bed. She returned to her side of the bed and laid back down, just as Ellis flung herself onto her mom. Meredith laughed and hugged her youngest daughter. “Can we open presents now?!” Bailey said as he laid down dramatically at the end of the bed. “Austin and Liam aren’t up yet. We have to wait for them first.” Hayes reminded Bailey with a smile. “We also have to wait until after breakfast.” Meredith added on. Ellis had fully sprawled herself out over her mother’s body and was hugging her, and Meredith gladly kept her arms wrapped around her and snuggled with her baby girl. Zola sat herself up at the top of the bed, which was her usual spot. “What time are we making breakfast?” Bailey questioned. The two adults looked at each other and laughed as Bailey kept asking more and more questions. “Soon, buddy. Why don’t you and your sisters go play in your rooms for a little bit, while we get dressed, and then we’ll call you guys down to help us make breakfast when we start.” Meredith’s kids loved helping her and Hayes in the kitchen, so she knew that by offering to let them help, they’d listen and give her enough time to properly wake up.

As she suspected, the kids sat up eagerly, and after a chorus of eager okays from the three small children, they jumped off the bed and darted to their rooms. Meredith stretched and moved over into her boyfriend’s embrace. “I know I told them we’d get up, but I really do not want to move.” She said as Hayes wrapped his arm around her waist, and she nuzzled her head into his neck. “Well, it won’t hurt to stay here for a few more minutes.” He told her, kissing her forehead. So, for a few more minutes, they laid together in complete silence. They liked to take a few moments every morning and treat it as if it were their first time waking up next to each other. It’d only been something they’d started doing 7 months prior, when they first moved in together, but ever since then, neither of them could remember a period of time where they weren’t waking up beside each other, cuddling and kissing. “Merry Christmas, I love you.” Meredith whispered before closing the gap between their lips. “I love you too. Merry Christmas.” He whispered back as they pulled away. “I guess we should probably get up and get dressed now, shouldn’t we?” Meredith said, rolling over in their bed. Hayes caught her waist and rolled her back over, kissing her again on the lips and on her neck. “Okay, now we can get up.” He said with a laugh as he pulled away from Meredith and pushed himself out of bed. Meredith tried to glare at him with no avail, since she immediately broke out into a bright smile the moment he turned around and caught her gaze.

Finally, they’d both gotten up, and the younger children had met them eagerly downstairs. Breakfast that morning had consisted of Belgian waffles, bacon, sausages, strawberries and blueberries, as well as orange juice. All of which was made by either Hayes, Zola, or Liam, who’d be woken up by the sound of Bailey and Ellis scream giggling as they poked Meredith and ran away. After breakfast had been made, all the kids eagerly made their way into the living room and crowded around the Christmas tree, which had been stuffed with presents. Each kid had gotten 2 big gifts, and several other smaller gifts; Liam had received a brand-new Apple watch as a joint gift from his dad and Meredith, and a new gaming PC that was just from his dad. Austin had received a new skateboard, and the new gaming console he’d been hinting at Hayes to buy all throughout November and December. Zola received a new iPod, and a swinging rope hammock chair that she could hang in her room. Bailey got a new remote-controlled car that both Meredith and Hayes knew would find its way into every room in the house at some point in the next 2 days, along with a Nintendo switch that he could play Mario Kart on. Ellis had gotten new rose gold Beats headphones, along with a new guitar that came with promises for lessons.

After almost 40 minutes of going around and letting each kid individually unwrap all their presents, there were only 2 gifts left under the tree. Meredith and Hayes’ gifts for each other. Meredith passed the box over to her boyfriend and smiled as she watched him unwrap it. It was a new watch that he’d been eyeing for a few months, that had been engraved with “C, M, L, A, Z, B, E – to new beginnings,.” with a small heart on the bottom.

“There’s also a little A on the hand dial for Abby.” She pointed out. Hayes quickly wiped the tears forming in his eye as he looked over the engravings. “Oh, I love it so much. I love you, thank you.” He put it on his wrist, and then kissed his girlfriend in front of all of the kids, prompting ‘ew’s’ from everyone, which they laughed at and then kissed again. Hayes leaned over and grabbed the small box under the tree that was for Meredith and took a deep breath as she unwrapped it. She opened the lid of the box and her jaw dropped. She silently looked over at Hayes and then back at the box, eyes wide. Two tickets to Zurich, Switzerland.

“Oh my god.” Meredith said once she finally processed what she was looking at. “What is it mommy?” Zola asked. “Tickets to Switzerland.” She responded breathlessly. “Like it?” Hayes asked, with a slight laugh and his signature smirk. “Like it?! I don’t know if anything could have been more perfect. I love it.” She said, hugging him. “We leave in two weeks, and we’re there for 2 weeks afterwards. I figured while we’re there, we could take a couple of days to go to Paris, and then take a flight to Ireland. I want to introduce you to my family. They’ve been begging me for the past 2 years to take you.” He explained. Meredith was rendered speechless. “I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it. And don’t tell Yang, it’s a bit of a surprise. Also, even though it’s totally cheesy, we’ll likely be in Paris on our anniversary.” Meredith kissed him again. “You really know how to one up me on gifts, don’t you?” She asked sarcastically. “Mm, I have to be better than you at something.” He fired back through a laugh. “Thank you. I can’t wait, for everything.” Meredith meant what she said – she really didn’t know if she could wait another 2 weeks to travel and see her best friend, meet her boyfriend’s family, and spend their 4th anniversary in Paris (which, she agreed, was totally cheesy – but she didn’t care). She was also incredibly excited to get some alone time with Hayes. They’d definitely be making the most of that. “Merry Christmas” He said as he kissed her forehead and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Merry Christmas, my love.” She said, resting her head on his shoulder.

The rest of the day was spent helping the kids set up all their new toys and technology, as well as get some things ready for dinner with Amelia, Link, a now 4 ½ year old Scout, and their 6-month-old daughter Charlotte, as well as Maggie, Winston, and their 5-week-old daughter Dianna. The whole day was filled with laughs and love, and they couldn’t have asked for anything more. This truly was the most perfect Christmas Meredith and Hayes could have dreamed of.

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just-dreaming-marvel · 5 years ago

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ONE HUNDRED TWENTY NINE - THE FINAL BATTLE (1)

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

FULL STORY MASTERLIST

ENDING ONE MASTERLIST

< previous

Word Count: 1,660ish

Summary: The final battle begins.

~~~

We were all thrown in different directions. Steve quickly grabbed onto me to try to shield me from the blast. The impact, along with all the emotions, caused me to be easily knocked out. Steve also fell unconscious. Tony got up and quickly found the two of us, finding Steve’s lost shield in the process. He knelt down between us and gently shook the two of us.

“Come on, guys. Wake up,” he urged. Steve moved first. “That’s my man.”

Tony held up the shield for the Captain to take. “You lose this again, I’m keeping it.”

Tony turned to me. “Bailey, kid… Get up.”

I groaned. “What happened?” I asked.

“We messed with time. It tends to mess back. You’ll see.” Tony helped me up and then Cap. “You okay, B?”

“Mmhmm,” I nodded. “I’m fine. It was just a lot of emotions all at once… Everyone’s definitely back.”

When we walked out of the ruble we were in, we found Thor looking down at the destroyed facility. I followed his eyes to see what he was looking at to find Thanos sitting on a pile of debris.

I looked into the villain’s mind. He was the 2014 version of Thanos. He had found out that he had been successful in the future because of the 2023 Nebula and he switched them out. How had I not seen that? He knew that we were trying to undo his plan. Thanos was leading us into a trap.

“What’s he been doing?” Tony asked.

“Absolutely nothing,” Thor answered, his eyes not moving from their target.

“Where are the stones?” Cap asked.

“Somewhere under all this,” Tony answered, motioning to the rumble.

“I’m in his head. He definitely doesn’t have them,” I cut in. “Nor does he know where they are.”

“So we keep it that way,” Cap instructed.

“You know it’s a trap, right?” Thor said.

“Yeah,” Tony replied. “And I don’t much care.”

“Good… Just as long as we are all in agreement.” Thunder and lightning made their presence none as Thor summoned Stormbreaker and 2013 Mjolnir. “Let’s kill him properly this time.”

I began walking with the three of them, but soon Tony glanced over and the three of them stopped. They turned to me and I already knew what they were planning on doing.

“I can read your minds, you know that right?” I said. “I’m fighting with you guys. I’ve already been in his head and he hasn’t even noticed yet. I can help.” I grabbed one of Tony’s hands and one of Steve’s. “I know what you are going to say. You want me safe. Well I can’t be safe when my home has just been destroyed and you are here fighting. I can help. I’ve trained for this.”

Tony nodded once in response before hugging me and giving me a kiss on the cheek. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

I turned to Steve, who quickly pulled me into his arms. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered. “Please, go home to Pepper and Morgan.”

“This is my home, too. And I won’t leave unless you and Tony do.”

“This isn’t going to end pretty… We’re going to lose people…”

“I know.” I pecked his lips quickly before resting my head back on his chest. “I’m still not leaving.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

I pulled away to look at him. “We’re going to end this. Once and for all. Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

We shared a brief kiss before the four of us continued towards the Mad Titan. Thanos was still sitting on the pile of debris, watching us carefully. I was waiting for the right time to enter his mind once again.

“You could not live with your own failure,” the purple giant started. “And where did that bring you? Back to me. I thought by eliminating half of life, the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible. And as long as there are those that remember what was, there will always be those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist.”

“Yep. We’re all kinds of stubborn,” Tony shot back. We all moved around, surrounding the Mad Titan on all sides.

“I’m thankful. Because now, I know what I must do.” He stood up. “I will shred this universe down to its last atom.” He put his helmet on. “And then… with the stones you’ve collected for me, create a new one. Teeming with life, but knows not what it has lost but only what I has been given. A grateful universe.”

“Born out of blood,” Cap stated.

“They’ll never know it. Because you won’t be alive to tell them.”

The four of us began attacking him from all sides. Punching, kicking, shooting, throwing, every thing we could do.

Tony landed in front of Thor at one point, a target on his suit opening up.

“Okay, Thor,” Tony called. “Hit me.”

Thor summoned lightning and then hit his two hammers together, directing the lightning to Tony’s suit.

The suit took in the energy and shot it all at Thanos. Thor then used Mjolnir to hit Thanos as I attacked from behind. Thanos used Tony as a shield from Thor resulting in his suit being damaged. Thanos then threw Tony to the side.

“Dad!” I shouted as he landed on the ground. I knew that he had passed out.

Steve then tried to attack Thanos but was easily shielded away. Thor then went after him but was blocked by a sword. Thor began to be beaten and choked by Thanos. I quickly tried to help but was tossed to the side. Thor tried to reach for Stormbreaker but Thanos grabbed it quickly and began using it against Thor. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mjolnir lifting off the ground, the hammer flying into Steve’s hand. Thanos watched in amazement as I smirked.

“I knew it!” Thor excitedly proclaimed.

Thanos kicked Thor back to the ground before turning to Steve. Steve charged at Thanos while swinging Mjolnir, successfully hitting Thanos in the face and knocking him down.

He then threw his shield at the Man Titan who deflected it. Mjolnir is then thrown to the Captain’s shield, creating a shockwave and knocking Thanos off his feet. I finally got back up after being in shock at watching Steve fight using both his shield and Mjolnir. I began shooting at him as Steve summoned lightning, aiming it at Thanos, and the Titan tried to get the upper hand.

And it wasn’t that hard for him to. He grabbed me by the neck and I quickly got into his head. He could feel me this time.

“What are you looking for, my child?” He asked.

“Your-r… w-weakness…” I stuttered, grabbing at his hands to let me go.

“Bailey!” Steve shouted.

I glanced to the side as Mjolnir flew passed and barely missed hitting the giant purple grape that was clinging onto me. I pushed harder into his mind. Gamora was still alive, still one of his weaknesses but not like the other Thanos. Nebula definitely wasn’t his weakness. Getting the Stones were but I couldn’t figure out how to use that against him. He began to squeeze my neck harder as I ventured further into his mind.

“Get out!” Thanos frustratedly demanded.

He gave my neck one final squeeze before tossing me on top of Thor. Thor tried his best to protect us both as I collided with him. He laid me down in his lap, I was coughing and my helmet disappeared into my suit. Thor began brushing my hair out of my face.

“It’s okay,” he tried to sooth. “I’ve got you…”

“W-where’s…” I coughed. “my dad?”

“I don’t know,” Thor shook his head. I began to push myself off of him.

“I have to find him.” As the two of us helped each other up, a crackling noise came through the coms. We glanced at each other.

“Cap,” the voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t one I hand heard in a long time. “you read me?” Steve immediately stopped walking towards Thanos and his army.

We made eye contact. Hope finally making its way to both our eyes. “Cap, it’s Sam,” the voice sounded through the coms again. “Can you hear me?”

I glanced behind Steve as I saw a yellow portal, similar to the ones I saw Dr. Strange and Wong use five years ago, begin to form behind him. “On your left.”

Steve looked behind him to see the portal. Three figures step through, Okoye, Shuri, and T’Challa, all ready to fight.

Sam zoomed through from above in his Falcon armor. Then dozens of more portals opened up around our side of the battlefield. I watched all of them open, finally seeing my once fallen friends, family.

Dr. Strange and Peter, oh my precious brother Peter, came through the same portal and I almost cried at the sight.

The Wakandan army came through as well as the Asgardians and the Masters of the Mystic Arts. I saw Wanda and Bucky, making eye contact with him. He gave me a strained smile. I finally caught site of my father lying the the ground and ran up to him.

“Dad!” I said, crouching down besides him.

All of a sudden, a purple and silver Iron Man suit landed in front of the two of us. The mask flipped open to reveal my mother, Pepper.

“Mom?” I asked as I walk over to her.

“You think you and your father are the only ones in this family that can put up a fight?” She retorted.

As all of our side gathers together, Pepper and I hover up above them. Seeing everyone back brought me so much joy, but what we were about to do scared me. Everyone just came back, and we could lose them all again in a more permanent way.

“Avengers!”

I heard Steve shout as he summoned Mjolnir.

“…assemble.”

We all then charged at Thanos and his army. Ready to end this once and for all.

next >

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necros-writing-stuff · 3 years ago

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Could we get wedding HC's with Bailey, Eden and Mason? The sort of ceremony they have, where it is, how intimate it would be, how they wreck PC's insides on their wedding night, the sort of langire they'd like to see their spouse in, who's invited, who's NOT invited, what kind of honeymoon they'd have, how long would it be, etc 😇

I know jack shit about dresses and fancy clothes

NSFW below

Bailey

There's a prenup. No chance in hell they're giving you even the slightest chance of running off with their money in a divorce.

Your idea, and it'll take a long while to get that yes.

Would prefer for you to grab a witness and just elope at the town hall, but you have to make it difficult and want a ceremony.

It's expensive, you know? Flowers alone can cost several thousand.

Whos gonna give you away? Doren? Your English teacher? Well alright then.

Let's you plan, and by letting I mean hovers over your shoulder and makes constant comments that what you're doing is wrong.

Pulls in every favour to cheapen prices.

Expensive ass showy rings, though. The best of the best.

Classic black tux for masc Bailey. Nothing too fancy or boring. He hates how he looks in all white, reminds him of those shitty Vagas weddings you see.

Short sleeved, open back white dress for fem Bailey. Shows off her tattoos nicely.

If you're making a big show out of it, then may as well use it as a publicity stunt.

The orphanage is there - and they're all on their best behaviour. Smile and wave at the lovely people, maybe you'll attract customers so Bailey can make their money back.

Quinn is there, too. Maybe the local news paper. There's a lot of people you don't recognise but Bailey says they're important.

Hires security. Probably knows about people like Whitney or Kylar that might gate-crash and won't let them in.

Acts perfectly charming and like they're enjoying themselves the whole time. They might be enjoying themselves, actually, that smile looks real.

Chokes a little seeing you walk up the isle/walking up themselves. Has to clear their throat and blink a few times to regain composure.

Uses the ready-made vows. Not about to be vulnerable in front of an audience.

Surprisingly soft when they kiss you.

Okay so this is fun. It's a break from work, there's tons of free gifts, you look amazing and the cake is delicious.

The honeymoon has to be short, Bailey can't leave the brats for too long.

A trip out of town, a week or so away with just the two of you. Maybe a spa, with couples massages and hot tubs. And wine.

Regardless of your gender, Bailey wants you in lingere. Wants to unwrap you like a present, watch how the material bunches in their hands as they slide it from your skin.

Will spend so long fingerings you into overstimilation, having you lie across their lap and drool into the bedsheets while they talk dirty in your ear.

Eden

You're already married, what are you talking about?

Oh you mean legally. Right.

Doesn't see the need. Hates that much attention on themselves, doesn't want to be in town, doesn't want anyone at the cabin, doesn't need a piece of paper to say they love you.

Might give into a small ceremony, by the lake, just you, the officiate, and a witness.

But Eden chooses them both, control freak that they are.

Reluctantly goes shopping with you to find your clothes. Does not believe in silly things like not seeing the bride in the dress, so will show you which ones they like and ask you to try them on/watch them do so.

A little self conclusion being dressed up. Would prefer to do it in their own clothes, if only you'd let them.

Gets handsy in the changing room.

Or helps you handmake a dress.

Gathering wild flowers for the bouquet and to add to your hair or theirs.

The day comes and the witness turns out to be Bailey. You ask about it and they'll just shrug and say "Don't really know anyone else."

File away into things to investigate later.

Prepared their own vows actually. They stumble through them, eyes flickering to the ground but it's heartfelt and real. You may end up crying.

Very harsh, possessive kiss. Lasts only a few seconds though, there's people watching.

Thanks Bailey and the officiate before sending them off with the signed papers.

Honeymoons are difficult to have when you live in the forest. Maybe Bailey hooks the two of you up with a hotel, for a price, a chance to relax. A chance to eat so much.

Eden is going to abuse that room service.

Meal after meal they don't have to prepare? And you don't, so they can fuck you till it arrives? This is amazing.

Now picture Eden in one of those massive robes, lounging in a comfy bed, satisfied smile on their face from having a full gut and their spouse at their side.

Does the tearing the garter off with their teeth thing if you're wearing it. Immediately goes down on you when it's off.

Breeding kink turns up to 1000%.

Getting Eden a ring that has a matt black texture to the metal so that light is less likely to reflect from it and spook their prey.

Mason

Oh look a normal person.

Proposes to you, very flustered and scared you'll say no.

Plans the proposal out, has a lovely dinner, takes you for a walk, does it in front of a view.

Cries and hugs you tight when you say yes.

Planning together, going on food testing days, touring venues, finding your perfect rings. Not too expensive, but still pretty.

Tells you all about their family, gossiping about who does what and where to sit people.

Warns you about certain relatives being rather traditional, so if anyone asks you're both virgins.

Even if Mason has ruined you pretty much every day since you've moved in.

Is curious about who you'll invite. Who's going to give you away?

Having to deal with Bailey seems like a bad idea if you need someone to give you away, you should probably choose someone else. Sam? Sam could work. Maybe Darryl, even Charlie.

Leighton is not invited. Whitney is banned. Robin can come. Kylar is also banned.

Doren will be there, maybe River, maybe Winter. Doren is the only one that looks genuinely happy to be there out of the three.

Modest dress for you/them. Again, it's the traditional thing. But it's beautiful all the same.

Won't see you the night before the wedding, but will sit on call with you all night even if their bachelor/hen party tries to pull them away.

Refuses to go to a strip club, goes to a fancy restaurant instead for the bachelor/hen party. Or maybe even laser tag.

Also prepares their own vows. Cries when you/they walk down the Isle.

The kiss is long and accompanied with a bone crushing hug.

A proper honeymoon, takes you someone tropical!

Swimming in the ocean together! Even going scuba diving or in shark cages! Going to theme parks, tanning on the beach. Possibly going to a nude beach, you're in a foreign country, no one would know.

So shy when you both strip out of your clothes on the first night, like it's the very first time again.

Tells you they love you every five seconds, bangs you on every surface, can't walk properly the next day.

You in lingere will send Mason nuts. Especially if you give them a lap dance, they won't be able to stay still.

Also intent on indulging their breeding kink.

#degrees of lewdity bailey #degrees of lewdity eden #degrees of mason #degrees of lewdity #spill your guts #anonymous

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quixotic-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Does it Scare You At All?

Song inspo: Ribs — Lorde

Both Bailey and Q have held their tongues for years about their repressed feelings for the other for fear of losing the other’s close friendship they’ve built up since freshman year of high-school. But during a college party and a couple of drinks, emotions fall out unfiltered.

———————————————————

The music was so loud they could barely hear their own thoughts running through their minds. They danced without a care in the world, bathing in the colorful lights of a cheap disco ball thanks to the help of some alcohol inside the red solo cups that are held with care. The bounce and twirl laughing as they try their best not to spill anything on the carpet. There was a noticeable spark between them that no one could deny but themselves.

“I’ve known her since high school, we’re just best friends. We’ll never be anything more.” Was the answer Q always had retorted with whenever his band of friends decided it’d be funny to tease him about it. The interrogation about his feelings for Bailey was growing old. While he won’t deny the small level of feelings that he had brewing since meeting her in the high school improv club, he held back and pushed it all down because he felt as though it was a threshold he wasn’t allowed to cross. He always saw her and thought she deserved someone better than him. He tried dating others, but every girl he had dated, it didn’t feel genuine and things wouldn’t last very long. He knew deep down he wanted Bailey, but he didn’t want to destroy the bond he had built with her already.

On the other end of things: Bailey just could never bring herself to say anything. She never once denied the feelings, only her ability to speak them out. Every time she seemed close and comfortable to finally being open, she seemed to find his hands intertwined with another girl. She also knew him well enough to know the patterns of his relationships, she’s been there for each one of his break ups. Every time he said the same thing: it didn’t feel like love. She feared falling victim to the phrase she so often heard, so she never said anything and showed no signs of anything more being hidden underneath. The statement perplexed her and made it feel as though she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. She bit her tongue, showing him support through everything as she turned down the volume of all of her roaring thoughts and rampant emotions.

They danced through their denial, standing at the edge of the fine line they silently wished to cross like a high-wire. Bailey looks at Q, his lips are moving but she doesn’t hear a thing coming out of them. The only thing she could hear is the intrusive thought in her head that was heightened because of the alcohol in her system saying “kiss him.”

“I’m gonna grab another cup of punch, do you want me to grab you some?” Q raises his voice a little louder over the booming music making Bailey snap back down to earth after being off in the space of her subconsciousness.

“I’ve had more than enough to drink tonight, thanks though, Quinn!” She smiles to him. He shrugs his shoulders and disappears into the sea of sweaty, loud college students. She continues swaying to the music all by herself and her mind begins racing again.

As she begins to reflect on how the night is going, she starts realizing she knows absolutely no one at this party. The only reason she came out to the party was because of Q. She knew he had a tendency to do stupid shit when he had too much to drink, so she came to make sure he didn’t do anything he would regret. She looks over to the drinks table to spot him out and sees him talking to that conventionally pretty red head girl he talked about sometimes that was in his english 100 class. A twinge of anger fills Bailey for a moment until it subsides to just an aching heart.

“Why don’t you just tell him!” Joe sporadically asked Bailey the million dollar question mere days ago as you both sat in the campus coffee shop. All she could do was cover her face in shame. “What’s holding you back? You tell him literally everything else and you guys talk and hang out like you’re already dating.” He had a point. Bailey plays around with her empty coffee cup, rolling it between the palms of her hands searching for the right string of words to convey properly what’s on her mind.

“I just don’t want that dynamic we have to go away, what if he doesn’t feel the same and something goes wrong?” She dreaded the idea of Q being weirded out by her emotions, what if he started closing her off and eventually just stopped being her friend?

“And what if it goes right? You don’t know until you shoot your shot, the worst answer you can get is he doesn’t want to date you. Besides if he drops you as a friend, he’s an idiot. Point blank. He’s an idiot already, but that will be a new level of stupid for Q.” That was very straight forward, but Bailey had never thought about things working out. Things had so often gone awry that she was so quick to jump to negativity and never took a moment to imagine the good that could come out of a scenario. “Besides why should unshared romantic feelings change your platonic feelings? You obviously care and look out for each other.” Joe sits back and takes a well deserved bite of a cannoli.

“Joe, when did you become so insightful?” She says shaking her head and chuckling.

“Must be the coffee and cannolis kicking in.” they both let out giggles and the thoughts continued to loom around Bailey’s head.

She looks at Q and sees how engrossed he is in the conversation, the way he’s looking at her and vice versa made her almost sick. Maybe tonight just wasn’t her night, maybe she’s had too much to drink, maybe just both. She took a deep breath and decided that her night was over. Suddenly, blue lights shine through the window of the house illuminating the room making everyone’s head turn.

“THE PIGS ARE HERE! SCATTER!” Some kid yelled to the swarm of people of which 75% of them are underage drinking, including Bailey and Q. Panic sunk into her veins and Bailey felt herself freeze, watching with wide eyes as everyone clamors and runs to flee the scene. She felt a hand grab her arm amidst the chaos and starts dragging her out the front door, her feet tried carrying her as fast as she could to keep up with whoever saved her from her catatonic state. Amidst the blue lights she looked next to her to see Q was the one that had grabbed her and she felt her heart flutter as he looked back to her.

“You froze like a deer in the headlights! You scared me for a second.” Q says loudly as they continue running down the street. Soon enough, they felt as though they made a safe enough distance where they could slow their pace and start walking again to catch their breath. “Y’know for a couple’a drunk idiots, we ran pretty fast and didn’t fall ONCE!” Q cackles out loud and Bailey snickers and snorts at the comment and she realized exactly how buzzed she’s really feeling. Bailey was a giggly get-real-about-your-feelings type of drunk, Q was a sloppy drunk but thankfully hadn’t had too much to drink tonight or at least not enough to make him act stupid.

“I really am drunk aren’t I?” She starts laughing even harder and Q can’t help but follow in suit because she can’t stop snorting. She hated when she snorted but Q couldn’t get enough of it, it was always his daily mission to get her to laugh so hard she snorted just so he could her it. So whenever they were together, he’d play up his antics and get her to laugh. Nothing made him happier than seeing her happy.

They continue walking through the street lamp lit roads and walked into the community park to sit down and really catch their breaths after their 5 minute track star moment. They sit down on the park bench, looking up at the midnight sky as the stars glistened down through the breaks in the clouds taking in the air that had a cold nip to it that slightly stung the outer part of your nostrils.

“You know I wasn’t even gonna go out tonight.” Bailey admits to the boy sitting next to her.

“Why?”

“Not my scene really. I enjoy fun, I enjoy parties, I enjoy a classic solo cup of cheap beer here and there, but after 5 minutes of talking to strangers I feel socially exhausted. I see you socialize effortlessly, I don’t get how you do it. You’re just so charming and you make it all look so easy. I wish I had your ability to just be a seemingly normal human!” She gushes about him without a second thought or hesitation, all her inhibitions are gone and Bailey becomes completely unfiltered.

“I wasn’t really planning on going tonight either honestly. I only went tonight because Sal told me you were going.” Bailey’s eyebrows furrow together in complete confusion and she sits up straight and her head shoots to Q. He went just because she was? But Sal had told her something different.

“Really? I only came out tonight because Sal told me YOU were going.” Q’s facial expression mirrors hers quickly and slowly everything began to piece together, but neither of them was about to point out the obvious.

“Well... That’s.... Strange? Isn’t it?” Q forces a chuckle and he feels his heart rate rise a little. Sal seriously set him up and he couldn’t believe it. Even though he wasn’t even the same vicinity as him, he could already see that stupid smile he wears when he plots something at the expense of others.

“That dumb son of a bitch.” Bailey busts out laughing and was on the verge of tears, this is just such a Sal move that she couldn’t help but laugh. It destroyed the awkward energy that Q was unintentionally putting out, he looked at her and just saw how care free she was about it and felt himself ease up.

“You don’t know until you shoot your shot” Joe’s voice played like a scratched record over and over in her head in that very moment. Now was her chance to be brave and do what she never thought she could.

“So you really came to a party because of me?” Q could feel his heart beating out of his chest, it felt like it could fall out and run wild at any second. He wasn’t quite ready for an emotional confrontation from his long time crush. If it wasn’t so cool outside, guaranteed he would be sweating as well.

“Y-yeah. I did. I wanted to make sure that you’d be okay.” He twiddles his fingers. Bailey notices the nervous fidgets are persistent, that’s when everything became so clear to her.

“That’s really sweet you know. It’s cute that you care about me.” She smiles and places her hand on his. He looks down at the warm hand resting on his, his heart is beating so loud he can hear it and feel it in his ears. His face feels molten hot and he looks at Bailey who has a cheshire cat smile on.

“I, uh. It’s because you’re my best friend! Of course I do things because I care about you.” He tries to brush it off, but things are just too obvious now.

“Is it really just a best friends thing though, Quinn? Because I know for me it isn’t.” She shifts a little closer to him and they lock eyes for just a moment. Q felt as though time stopped and he felt as though he could see through time. What he saw while looking into her eyes: a future he wanted with Bailey.

“I’ve wanted to say it, but I never could.” Q giggles nervously slowly taking her hand in his and it all just felt like what he’s been aching to find for so long. He chews at his bottom lip but there’s no stopping the momentum of emotions they have going. “I really like you Bailey. I have for a while.” The words finally came out. There they were at 1 in the morning in the cool abandon of the dimly lit community park on a bench sitting beneath the stars that sung from heaven, and it felt like a safe haven from the world. It felt as though they had found their own wrinkle in the universe to hide in and truly unmask their hearts from the masquerade they’ve been living.

They look into each others eyes and slowly begin to lean in closer and closer, heads tilting, eyes closed, the warmth of their faces slowly getting hotter and hotter. The moment their lips finally met, Bailey wanted to fall apart or just let out whatever joyous noise she had trapped inside herself. It felt sweet but it tasted like stale beer, neither of them minded though.

The moment they pulled away, they both began to blush and giggle, they both knew the other had been waiting to finally have that moment, they could just feel it in the air and the way that they kissed each other.

“You know I was worried you had a thing for that red head back at the party.”

“Way to ruin a moment Bail.” Q says letting out a deep chuckle. “I don’t know what else to say... but I do have a question: how long have you felt like this?” Q questions Bailey. She rubs her hands on her pants to rid them of the layer of sweat she built up because of her nerves.

“Since high school junior year prom when your date ditched you and you slow danced with me instead.” That night Bailey had never felt happier and comfortable in someone’s arms. Q’s date had gone to get drunk with some other guy and bailed, Bailey was all alone without a date and he had offered her the final dance of the night. It was cheesy and cliché but that night felt like a fairytale. “And what about you mr. ‘I feel comfortable with telling you all my emotions but won’t tell you that I like you’?” Q rubs his hand across his face in shame at the name.

“Uuuh I don’t really know, the feelings have just been there. It’s been like this since senior year. I never said anything because I was scared to ruin our relationship we have now as friends.” Bailey started laughing hysterically and holding on to Q’s shoulders for support as she bent in half cackling. “What’s so funny?”

“I told Gatto the exact same thing when I was talking to him the coffee shop a few days ago. I told him that I didn’t want to lose your friendship! We’re such stupid love struck idiots.” Bailey composed herself enough to get that out before continuing to roll around in laughter after she said what she wanted to.

Q had, in that moment, then realized that all the guys had known about both their feelings but never said anything. Suddenly a lot of memories began to click together and make a little more sense. All the time Murr, Joe, and Sal had always teased them when they were in their own world and their own conversation whenever they hung out. Anything involving pairing up like beer pong, Bailey and Q were always strung together as a team every time. At movies they would always find themselves sitting next to each other. He had thought it was all coincidence, but now he’s realizing the boys had tried to subtly set them up for a while. Funny, the one night none of the boys are around, their wish had finally come true.

“So, here’s the question that I should have asked a while ago: would you like to go on a date somewhere?” Q wrapped his arm around her shoulder and watched as her smile grew.

“I’d want nothing more than just to finally do that.”

“Would you also like to plan the next prank with me on Sal to get him back for this evening’s mess?”

“Oh hell yes!” Bailey exclaimed as ideas of his torture began brewing in her mind.

“Let’s get you back to your dorm then before more weird things start happening.” With that they both got up and started to leave the park, hand in hand, just as they both had always wanted.

#brian quinn #impractical jokers #q #brian q quinn #brian quinn imagine #brian ''q'' quinn #q imagine #q impractical jokers #suki writes #fluff

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omeliashepherdhunt · 6 years ago

Text

Simple Ch. 1

Seattle was carrying on its stereotypical behavior with the nonstop rain. Owen hated having to drive in torrential downpour so late at night but another day at work got away from him with a steady flow of traumas. By the time he parked in the driveway, the clock on his dashboard read 10:28. Maybe his wife would still be up to see him.

With his keys and bag hung up on the hooks by the front door, Owen quietly walked through the entryway and into their living room to see what Amelia was up to. Part of him was disappointed to see she was asleep but he couldn’t help but smile when he saw baby Abel still latched to his mother’s breast, both of them contently asleep. He was a miracle no doubt. Born with Down Syndrome and ASD, he had undergone heart surgery at 4 days old to correct the hole in his heart. However he flatlined twice during the procedure which shook the Hunt family to their core.

In typical Grey-Sloan surgeon fashion, Amelia and Owen had been up in the surgical theater watching as none other than Sam Bennett operated on their newborn so they witnessed their son come back from the brink of death twice. Amelia decided right then that she would be taking an extended maternity leave. Abel would be immunocompromised more than typical babies with his heart issues, and he already had 2 school aged siblings and 2 parents that worked inside a hospital to provide plenty germs. Owen on the other hand was so bothered by what happened, he didn’t want to think about it ever again. In return, he buried himself in work so he hadn’t been home much the past month other than his one off day he’d take.

When Owen leaned in to unlatch Abel to move him to the bassinet in their bedroom, he took a moment to admire Amelia’s beauty. However the longer he looked, the more he noticed. Her cheek bones were more prominent, her collarbone was even more noticeable, and even her ring looked a bit loose on her finger. She was already a petite woman so her apparent weight loss didn’t sit right with Owen.

He quickly moved Abel off of Amelia which only startled her awake.

“What the hell?”

“It’s just me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“He was sleeping. We were fine.”

“I know but you can’t sleep in the recliner all night. Let’s go to bed. It’s coming close to 11 o clock.”

Amelia was definitely drowsy but was happy to settle in their bed. She wasn’t used to Owen being around anymore. They hadn’t really discussed it which in the long run would only worsen whatever riff they had, but she didn’t know what to say to him anymore. He just wasn’t around. Instead of focusing solely on their newborn son, she also had to split herself for the older three. Flynn had baseball and Bella was in gymnastics. Between two school kids, their sports, a very clingy one and a half year old, and their specially abled baby, both of which she was still nursing, there was no time for herself. She didn’t have Owen around to help offset the heavy load that was their life and honestly she didn’t have it in herself to fight with him about it. Amelia was spread as thin as possible and it showed. The house wasn’t trashed, but it was messier than they usually kept it. She felt that if she could keep the four kids alive, fed, and on time for school and sports each day, that was enough. Anything else could wait for another day.

“Well, good night. I hope the kids behaved for you.”

Amelia hugged into her pillow and not Owen like she normally liked to.

“They were great. Flynn and Bella are great helpers. He has a baseball game tomorrow at noon but don’t worry, he already knows Dad will probably be at work. Bella mastered her back handspring tonight so she’s really excited about that. Rosie is cutting all four molars at the same time so she is miserable.”

“What about Abe?”

“He’s good. He’s as strong as ever. Not at all scary.”

Owen shook his head at the very intentional dig she threw at him. While she didn’t care to argue, she would make it known how much she hated that he willingly chose to stay away.

“I’m not scared of my own son, Amelia.”

“Really? When was the last time you held him for more than 5 minutes? I mean hold him just to admire him, not just because I need to brush my teeth and hair. They’re only a baby once.”

“I saw the monitor both times his heart stopped. It haunts me. I’ve doubted my ability as a parent ever since that day. I wish I could forget that that happened, but I can’t. Instead I save lives. I focus on that.”

“I was there too! You weren’t the only one. Ya know, I would’ve never done what you did. Then again, I was never given that option. You have three other kids too. They miss their dad. Sam knew what he was doing in the surgery too. Abel is strong and he made it. We clearly aren’t on the same page but just know I’m done covering you with the kids. Flynn and Bella are both old enough to understand what is going on. They will remember when you weren’t around. If you can live with yourself knowing that, okay. I am so exhausted day in and day out. So do what you want but they know Dad has no true reason to always be gone.”

Not another single word was spoken from either of them. Owen didn’t like knowing how much he was impacting his kids. Apparently he hadn’t thought too much into it until now.

Amelia was woken up just after 8 a.m by Bellamy climbing in bed with her.

“Mama, Daddy is cooking pancakes and bacon for breakfast. Flynn is helping squeeze oranges for orange juice. Daddy put Rosie in her highchair with some banana and the baby is sleeping.”

“Oh thank you for coming to see me. Good morning my sweets.”

“Daddy isn’t working today?”

“It’s supposed to be his weekend off so he shouldn’t...”

Bellamy’s face lit up but Amelia didn’t want her to be disappointed in case he elected to go in.

“... but if he gets paged, then he will have no choice but to go. Mama and Daddy save lives.”

“And if you and Daddy are here, there are people that may not make it.”

“Yes but we love you all the same.”

Bellamy curled up to her mom’s side, basking in the rare moment of being the only one with Amelia.

“Mama, can we do something fun today? Like going to the aquarium? I want to see the otters again like we did on my field trip.”

Amelia kissed the top of her daughter’s head, taking a second to breathe in the sweet scent of Bella’s strawberry shampoo.

“Your brother has a baseball game at noon but we can go tomorrow if everyone behaves today. Do you still want to spend the night with Uncle Andrew and Aunt Maggie?”

“Yes please! They let me help give Emma and Evan their baths at night. It’s so much fun. Will Daddy come to the aquarium on Sunday?”

“I don’t know, sweets. You’d have to ask him.” Amelia laid there a little bit long with her oldest daughter until she heard her youngest start to fuss on his baby monitor.

“Bella, go see Dad. I’m going to feed Abel then I’ll come eat breakfast with everyone.” “Okay mommy! I love you very much.”

“Love you too sweet girl.”

By the time the older kids were dropped off with their aunt, uncle, and twin one year old cousins by Owen, Amelia had Rosalie and Abel nursed to sleep for their mid-afternoon naps. Shockingly he had been at home with her and the kids all morning and afternoon. Now she was uncertain of what to do. Amelia wasn’t used to his undivided attention since typically the kids were running circles around them or the whole house was asleep by the time Owen got home at night.

Owen carefully sat down beside Amelia on the couch. “Babe, can we talk about last night?”

“What about it?”

Owen ran his fingers through his tousled curls. This wasn’t going to be easy for him but he could only blame himself.

“There’s no excuse for my absence. I have let my wife down and all of my kids. Sorry won’t suffice, I know. I am just going to work on being here. Seeing you last night with Abel still latched onto you and you both fully asleep, looking like a pair of angels, I noticed you have even lost enough weight for your wedding rings to not fit properly anymore. If there’s no one here to help you, you won’t have time to get proper rest or eat meals that isn’t pb&j and goldfish. That’s my fault and I hate myself for it. I have two weeks left of paternity leave that I haven’t used since I went back to work 2 weeks after Abe was born. I called Bailey on the drive home to let her know I’m using those two weeks effective tomorrow.”

“But why? You have been so happy since you went back to work…”

“Absolutely not. I’ve just kept busy. I let my entire family down and now I need to redeem myself. I love you so much Amelia. I love you, Flynn, Bella, Rosie, and baby Abel more than anything. I’m also going to make sure to bond with Abel has much as I can these next two weeks.”

Owen finished his long winded statement to see Amelia’s eyes filled with tears. “Owen, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say something like that.”

She hugged into his side and was happy to have him with her now. “It’s true. I promise. I’ll be right here with you. I’m all yours for two weeks straight.” “I love you. This doesn’t fix everything but it’s a good start.”

“I love you too. I know it’s not gonna get back to normal overnight but we can take it day by day together with the kids.”

#omeliashepherdhunt #owenhunt #ameliashepherd #simpleomeliashepherdhunt #simpleomeliafic #omelia #omeliafics #omeliadrabbles

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footbaliimagines · 6 years ago

Text

New Years Kiss (a Jesse Lingard imagine)

Hello!!!!!! It is me, returned from the dead (I can’t find the gif but insert the bitch thought u saw the last of me gif from American horror story gif here)

Idk what this is really these bits and bobs are NOT chronological they are just like fragments if that makes sense?? So even though the 3 words bit is when they were together its like a ***flashback*** but I wasnt sure how to make that v clear also the chapters are like numbers counting down from ten like at midnight ygm??? Okay I am rambling so will shut up hope u guys like it and hope you have a wonderful nye <3 I hope and am sure 2019 will be wonderful for all of you <3

TEN minutes after you meet him, you realise that you’re kind of fucked.

(And by kind of, you mean completely, overwhelmingly, catastrophically fucked.)

It happens quickly, in a way that you’ve never experienced before.

So quickly, as a matter of fact, that when he locks eyes with you for the first time, and when he grazes your arm when brushing past you to grab his drink, it’s like a switch has been flicked inside of you that you were never sure even really existed.

You put it down to the bubbles from your prosecco that you’d downed just before chatting to him, and that the tipsiness and the buzz of alcohol is the only reason you could be feeling the way you do right now.

Now he’s a face that you can put a name to, instead of just viewing him as Marcus’ other footballer friend, that familiar grinning face you’d spotted at gatherings who always offered you a shy, awkward smile whenever you shared eye contact but someone who you’d never actually found the balls to speak to.

(Sure, as a regular human being with functioning eyes you knew that he was attractive, but he was way out of your league.)

(The constantly grinning, elusive, life of the party Jesse Lingard, who Marcus had raved about to you pretty much since the day they’d met, with his 5 million Instagram followers, ridiculous dance moves that no self-respecting 26 year old man should let the world see, and that smile- God, that stupid, infectious shit eating grin, when his eyes crinkled and made everyone else look mediocre in comparison to him.)

(He wouldn’t look in your direction even if the world was about to end.)

It’s New Years’ Eve, and his Christmas jumper smells like Baileys and cinnamon, lasting remnants of the festive period. “Nice to meet you.” You practically have to shout over the music. “I know Marcus.”

“You what Marcus?”

“I know Marcus.”

“You know who?”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, dismissing his question. “Doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

“I said.” You shout. “It doesn’t matter.”

He nods and smiles again, leaning in, “I don’t want to be weird or anything, considering we just met,” his gaze is hazy and clouded with the effects of the beer he’s clutching in his right hand, “but you’re really fucking pretty.”

You can feel your face flush, a blush superior to the one your red wine had already given you, and the next thing you know it’s nearly midnight, and you’re drunk and giggling and he’s flirting and tracing between the gap between your jeans and jumper with his fingers, and you’re both leaning in and your friends are counting down from ten, and he kisses you, amidst cheers and shouts and fireworks.

And you tell yourself, what’s the worst that could really happen?

“Only NINE stops.”

You trace your finger over the plastic Metrolink sign, running it up and down the line connecting the two tram stations, marking your place and his. “Nine stops to get from me to you.”

He snakes his hands around your waist, pressing his chin into your shoulder and kissing the exposed skin of your neck. “Stop.” You laugh, voice breathy. “We’re in public.”

“We’re in Manchester city centre on a Thursday night.” He pulls away, leading you towards the platform and laughing loudly, his voice booming throughout the cold night. “There’s no one fuckin’ here!”

He’s had a few pints, and he’s tipsy, handsy, flirty, silly Jesse, one of your favourite versions of him, kissing you breathlessly and grinning, hands running up and down your tight jeans and hooking into your belt loops and murmuring in your ear about how excited he is to pull them off of you later.

“Nine stops, you know,” He hums as the tram pulls away and you lean into him, watching the city pass you by, “is pretty far.”

“You’re such a city boy now.” You roll your eyes. “It’s like, 20 minutes. If we went back to my hometown, you’d be lucky to see a bus more than once every half an hour.”

“You wouldn’t have to do the whole 9 stops if you moved in with me.”

You crinkle up your nose and quirk an eyebrow at him. “What are you suggesting?”

“What do you think I’m suggesting?”

Laughing, you prop your feet up on the empty seat opposite and lean into his side, as he flops an arm around your shoulder. There’s no one else with you two and your voices and shared laughter echo throughout the empty carriage. “I’m serious!” He holds his hands up and looks at you with wide eyes. “Do it. Move in with me. You can cook me breakfast every morning, and make me my tea for when I get back, make me a brew whenever I want one… you’ll make the perfect little housewife.”

“Now that you’ve said that, you can fuck off.”

And you both brush it off and don’t speak of the topic again, but when he leaves for training the next morning, there’s a spare key for his flat lying on a post-it, with a hastily scribbled note.

You don’t have to properly move in – no pressure or anything like that. But I had a spare key lying around and wanted you to have it. Jess x

(When the breakup comes, you don’t work up the courage to give it him back, and it’s still lying in your bedside table draw, post-it long gone, gathering dust and eventually added to the pile of his things you swear you’ll get around to giving him back one day.)

(There’s a strange feeling in your stomach every time you pass by his stop.)

It’s EIGHT in the morning.

You’re sat in the coffee shop equidistant to your flat, Marcus’s house and United’s training ground, where every Sunday without fail, the three of you would meet up for breakfast.

(Well, where you used to meet up every Sunday.)

(Minus that one time you were too hungover to leave the house without projectile vomiting on your own feet.)

For the first time since the breakup, Jesse had appeared, the sleepiness still drooping over his eyes and his hair mussed by his pillowcase. Your mind flashes to the image of him sleeping face down in his pillow, a position that made you nearly piss yourself laughing every time you saw him, but you suppress the memory quickly.

“Everyone can see it except the two of you, you know.”

Marcus tips his chin upwards and nods matter-of-factly. You roll your eyes and huff. “You’re a prick. And not just for saying that. But for inviting him out for our thing, our tradition, again, when you know it’s just going to be fucking awkward. He didn’t have to be here.”

“I’m only saying.” He raises his eyebrows and holds up two hands, as if to say, not my fault, I’m not interfering in the slightest, I’m just telling you that I know you’re still in love with your ex, and I know he still feels the same, and that even though there’s a very high chance things could still go catastrophically, terrifically, hugely wrong, I’m going to tell you and mess with your head anyway?

You reply snappily, huffing and folding your arms across your chest, “You’re messing with me, and it’s pissing me off. Fuck off. Tell him to fuck off too while you’re at it.”

He barks out a laugh and you roll your eyes. “I’m trying to reunite my two best friends, that’s all. Get the gang back together and all that!” He whines and shuffles closer to you, flinging an arm around your shoulders loosely. “Let me live. You both know you’re both being stubborn. Just talk to each other. It’ll all work out.”

“I don’t even like him anyway. Not like that. Not anymore.”

It’s a lie, a stupid, threadbare, slap you in the face lie. Marcus knows it too, and snorts. “Yeah, sure. I believe you. It’s not like you’ve been pining over each other for the past 3 months and you’re giving the girl he’s talking to at the moment daggers.”

You pull away your gaze sharply. Jesse’s in the queue- well, he was in the queue, now he’s loitering by the serviettes - and he’s been pulled to the side by a beautiful girl. They’ve been chatting amiably for the better part of the last ten minutes and you can feel your blood temperature rising steadily. “I’m staring,” You begin, and your head starts whizzing at a million miles an hour to come up with a decent excuse. “Because Jesse has our coffees and I don’t want them to get cold just because he’s in the middle of a stupid conversation.”

“’Stupid conversation’,” Marcus air quotes your words and smirks. “Jealousy isn’t a very attractive trait, you know.”

“I’m not jealous.” You scoff. “I’m just thirsty, that’s all.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Fuck you.”

A few minutes, and plenty of glares and continuous teaching jabs from Marcus later, Jesse approaches and smiles apologetically. “Sorry about that.” he chuckles, and hands you your mug.

Your fingers bump and it’s so meaningless and tiny but you kick yourself for still flinching when your skin made contact. “Careful. It’s still hot.”

(See, he cares about you. Maybe it’s not all just in your head!)

It’s an instinct to smile back at him, a repressed reflex to not pat the empty space next to you and rest your hand on his thigh, but you gulp as he sits opposite instead, far away from the table, from you. “Make conversation.” Marcus hisses.

You can feel your face blossoming cherry red, feel the discomfort in the air rise, feel your palms grow sweaty, and you shoot him a dirty look, mouthing, “Stop making it obvious.”

“You’re the one making it obvious.” He hisses back.

“Hm?” Jesse looks up from his phone to across the table.

He’s wearing that stupidly adorable, confused look on his face again, and you want to kiss him, you want to throw your boiling hot coffee in his face, you want to slap him, do something, do anything that would be less unbearably awkward than the three of you making small talk about the new Kenyan variety of coffee beans Marcus was trying out.

“Hm what?” You gargle.

“I was just asking what you guys were mumbling about.” He leans back, hands gripping his mug.

“Nothing.” You interject, before Marcus can start up again. “Marcus’s just being a dick, that’s all.”

You kick yourself for acting like such a lovesick, pathetic idiot, because you’ve never been like this before, you’ve constantly sworn to yourself that you’d never going be like this, but now he’s in the picture and it’s like everything that you ever held dearly to you has gone straight out of the window. Marcus pipes up, “So, who was that girl?”

(Now he decides to fucking speak.)

“Which girl?”

This time, you’re not quick enough to interrupt Marcus from piping up. “The girl you were flirting with before, Jesse, who you might go out with, who seems really nice and wasn’t a baby by actually talking to you about her feelings instead of hiding behind her emotions because she’s so scared of rejection and open communication, that she’d be willing to sacrifice the possibility of something really great?”

(You’re this close to chucking your cappuccino over his head.)

Jesse side eyes Marcus, opening his mouth to reply but then shaking his head and exhaling instead. “She’s right, you are being fucking weird today.” He shakes his head, tipping his chin upwards slightly and shrugging. “Besides, she’s not really my type anyway.”

(She was beautiful.)

(She’d be anyone’s type.)

He’s looking at you dead in the eye this time, ignoring Marcus’s eyes darting back and forth between the two of you, and you venture, “What is your type, then?”

He pulls a face, like come on, are you really asking that, you know what my fucking type is and you know it’s not that girl I was talking to strategically 2 foot in front of you so you’d see and get jealous, and when he doesn’t answer, you take it as a silent victory for #TeamYouWereRight, not #TeamJesse.

“That’s for me to know, isn’t it?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

You let Marcus fill the silence of the rest of your breakfast, and when you leave you’re too much of a coward to even look Jesse in the eye.

It only takes him SEVEN days to move on

When the cover of Ok! on your best friend’s coffee table catches your eyes, you can almost feel your wine and the tequila shots you had knocked back rising back up your throat. Your vision is hazy and the bitterness, the anger, the hurt surges through your veins as you pick it up and throw it to the floor, out of sight and out of mind. You were right, the featurette screamed out at you, he wasn’t, isn’t worth it, isn’t worth you crying over.

It only took him a week to find someone else to fuck and you’d be damned if you weren’t going to go out tonight with the same intentions.

Deep down you know you’re being childish and if you were sober you’d probably never have sunk to such a level, but the tequila is buzzing in your blood and you can’t stop thinking about that fucking photograph.

(A photograph of Jesse revelling in a post-Boxing Day victory glow, crowded with Paul and Marcus in some swanky inner city bar, with his hand on the thigh of a beautiful woman whose Instagram account you made a mental note of to stalk when you were in a soberer state.)

There’s a tranquil voice somewhere in the back of your head telling you to step back and be rational. You’d been friends with Marcus and the boys for far too long to trust the split-second capture of a loitering paparazzi over his word.

It was probably just a one-night stand, that rational voice piped up again. Plus, he’s single now. Give him a break. The boy is gonna need to get laid eventually.

(But he’d told you he didn’t want to be with anyone else, that he’d rather have quiet nights in with his teammates to celebrate, probably just PS4 and takeaway, that he wouldn’t enjoy going out if it wasn’t with you.)

(That rational voice in your head could go fuck itself.)

You shrug off the worry at the back of your mind and post the picture to your Instagram story regardless.

Your phone buzzes 2 minutes later.

Who is he?

You hate yourself for revelling in his jealousy, but the sense of satisfaction you gain overrides any rationale that sober you would have considered.

Who the fuck is that guy?

Can you reply?

I can see you’ve read these messages, you know.

Are you fucking him? Is he your new boyfriend?

Fuck you.

Happy SIX months, babe. Love yaaaaaaaa!!!

is what the balloon reads, as the delivery man comes by Jesse’s house with a bunch of flowers almost the size of him and a handful of personalised helium balloons.

“Delivery for Mr J Lingard?” The postman reads off his phone, before handing Jesse the assortment of romantic gifts and offering up a screen for Jesse to sign.

He smiles tiredly and nods.

(He swore he had remembered to cancel this order after you’d broken up.)

“Ta mate,” He replies, taking the flowers inside and dumping the balloons behind him in his hallway.

“Anniversary, eh?” The delivery man smiles. “She’ll love the presents.”

(He’s going to throw up.)

Jesse attempts to smile and brush it off with a laugh, but it’s not convincing. “Fingers crossed, yeah.”

“Best of luck.” He walks back down his drive. “Have a nice day.”

“And you.”

He’s alone again in his hallway, the gifts surrounding him, a flurry of red and pink bows and yellow roses, your favourite, your name written onto the balloons.

He imagines you in the kitchen with him, you, being your typical over-emotional, dramatic self probably welling up at the card he’d written, tactfully arranging the balloons for an Instagram photo, talking about inhaling the helium and taking a video for his Snapchat speaking in funny voices, getting stressed out about doing your eyeshadow for your dinner later that evening.

He can imagine looking at you from across his kitchen table like you just hung the moon in the sky, the thought of being with you, eating breakfast with you, talking to you all making his stomach churn. Because the breakup hadn’t been formal nor had it been official, and it was only after you blocked most (well, all) of his social media accounts, and your face no longer appeared, grinning and slightly flushed, in the stands of Old Trafford, that he had realised the severity of what had happened between the two of you.

And Jesse kicks himself over it every day, he could have done more, could have turned up to your house or your office and demanded an answer or at least a conversation, but his stubbornness and obstinacy had prevented him from doing so, and your unwillingness to communicate had landed you both at a stalemate.

(If he could go back in time, he would.)

He leaves the anniversary gifts in his spare room upstairs and doesn’t even open the door.

05:02 – Are you up?

05:14 – Lol of course you won’t be

05:14 – Soz for texting. I can’t sleep and I think I’m just getting a bit caught up in own head

05:16 – I just

05:16 – I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind

05:16 – I just don’t know why this is still so fucking difficult. It’s been like 3 months and I still can’t sleep because I’m thinking about you and how everything went wrong

05:19 – I’m sorry if I pressured you when I told you I loved you and I’m sorry for not fighting more

05:20 – Didn’t meant to rush you. Just wanted to be honest.

05:20 – And now I’ve fucked everything up. And I’ve fucked it with Marcus too, jt’s always awkward and I know he’s taken your side and everything is just shite

05:26 – Fucking hell

05:26 – I can’t do being just friends and I can’t do platonic. Maybe we just should just cut if off completely

05:27 – Please come and see me so we can talk it over

05:27 – I just can’t do this, this in between

05:28 – I love you and I know you still love me

05:28 – Is that not enough???

It’s FOUR in the morning and Jesse’s regretting even leaving the house in the first place.

His head is pounding with the deep bass coming from the speakers behind him, as he gingerly sips at his lime soda, thoughts of his alarm ringing at 7:30am tomorrow morning looming in the back of his mind, thoughts of what his Mum would say if she knew he wasn’t getting a healthy 8 hours of sleep before a game, thoughts of you in that little black dress, swaying to the beat, standing far too close to that short-back-and-sides-probably-a-fuckboy idiot whispering something that Jesse doesn’t want to imagine down your ear.

(Thoughts of what he’d like to do to you in a dress like that.)

You eventually shrug the other guy off when he gets a little too eager, a little too handsy, and pull your hair loose from its ponytail, eyes scanning around the club and pausing when the land on Jesse.

He’s stood in the corner, not speaking to anybody and hardly moving, and that’s when you know he must be in a bad mood, because the DJ’s just started playing Sicko Mode and he’s not even flinched. Then one of his mates appears by his side, hollering down his eardrum, and Jesse doesn’t even respond with a smile or a laugh, he just shrugs him off and walks towards the doors.

You’re not sure why, but you follow him as he heads towards the smoking area. You lose him eventually in a sea of drunk people, and exhale, the wind suddenly sobering you up.

Fucking typical, you think, lighting a fag and leaning back against the brick wall, eyes closed.

“You shouldn’t smoke.”

You open one eye and there he is, stood there in front of you, looking at you with a mixture of fondness, annoyance and disapproval. Looking at him dead in the eyes, you lift it to your lips and inhale. “I must have a tendency for going back to things that I know are bad for me.”

He looks at you, and you can tell he wants to bite, to start another fight, but then he bites his tongue and exhales. “How have you been?”

“I’m alright.”

“Good.”

“And you?”

“Good.”

“Jess?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

(The next thing you know, you’re in a taxi togetther and he’s telling the driver his address and your hands are all over him and his are all over you.)

(And you fall into bed with him again, like always, like you know deep down happens every time, as if its a habit, and when you wake up the next morning in his shirt you tell yourself that this time really will be the last time.)

You hadn’t anticipated saying those THREE words to Jesse so soon.

God, you hadn’t even considered the possibility of things lasting between the two of you for longer than a few weeks, but now here you were nearly 6 months later, lying on his sofa with his head in your lap and your fingers running through his hair. “Hey,” Jesse speaks and sits up, switching the volume of the telly down to zero.

“Hm?”

He looks away, before turning almost as red as the United shorts he was still yet to change out of, then gulping and shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” He cuddles back into you and though your heart melts, you wiggle him off and jab him with your elbow.

“Talk to me.” You whine. “You’re no fun when you’re being weird like this. What’s up?”

Jesse heaves a sigh, and for the first time during your conversation, looks you in the eye before burning bright red again and glancing away. It’s like he can’t bear the sight of you, and his determined avoidance of both a proper conversation and sharing eye contact with you makes you feel slightly nauseous.

A few moments of silence pass before he looks at you again. “I, well- I feel weird right now.” He stumbles. “Because, um, I-“

“Jesse, what is it?”

Your pulse begins to race as your mind inevitably wanders, and the pessimist in you instantly leaps to the worst possible thing. Was he breaking up with you? Things had been going so well, and surely Marcus would have called to give you a heads up if he knew something weird was going on with Jesse.

(Then again, you had cancelled on date night for the past 3 weeks to binge the Great British Bake Off.)

(Still, would that really have warranted a breakup?)

(And plus, Jesse was the Bake Off’s second biggest fan, after yourself, naturally.)

It could be something smaller, something to do with his family, or his career. But he never felt uncomfortable discussing football with you, despite your feelings towards his club, and his relatives treated you like one of their own.

(Your mind does eventually wander to the possibility of him cheating, or him finding someone else, but due to your own stubbornness and for the sake of your sanity, you’re quick to expel any ideas like that straight out of your head.)

“I love you.”

His voice is soft and cracks at the end, and it’s so, so far from what you had been expecting, and so unlike the usual confident, grinning Jesse that you were used to that a lump forms in your throat. “Oh, Jess-“

“I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to scare you off.” He mumbles. “But I’m finding it way too hard to not have those stupid fucking three words replaying in my mind every time I look at you. Because that’s what’s happening, I swear. I’m trying to play it cool and casual but all I can think about every time you smile, or speak, or laugh is the fact that I’m in love with you.”

A smile pulls on your lips and you immediately scramble forward to wrap your arms around him. He laughs and you feel his chest rumble underneath you. “You don’t have to be scared.” You comfort. “Trust me, I was shitting myself way imagining the worst just now.”

Jesse laughs. “Cos like, it terrifies me, it fucking scares the living daylights out of me, because I’ve never felt like this about, well- anyone before. And I was petrified that you didn’t feel the same way.”

You grin, before leaning in and pressing your lips to his with force. It’s a hasty, reassuring kiss, and your teeth clash and you murmur in between kisses, “I love you.”

(Months had passed since that night now and those three words hadn’t lost any meaning.)

(And you just wish you could say them to him again.)

“I know we said it the last TWO times, but we really need to stop doing this.”

His voice is soft, breaking the silence you were lying in.

(You’re grateful that he was the one to speak first, but you’re not so grateful for him bringing up that wretched conversation yet again.)

He looks across at you, the dim light from your lamp illuminating the side of your face, your knotted hair and smudged lipstick, and then at your bedside clock, reading 01:23. Jesse sighs and you can feel your heart sinking into your stomach, as he reaches for his boxers and pulls them on. Your bedroom is a mess, cushions and throws tossed to the floor, and he speaks up again, “I mean it, this time.”

“Okay.”

He continues, though he really doesn’t need to. You’ve got the message loud and clear. “I think it’s just good for our, er, healing. Isn’t like, not sleeping with your ex like the number 1 thing not to do after a breakup?”

“Probably, yeah.”

You hug your duvet up around your body protectively, before reaching for your bra and t-shirt that had been tossed to floor just two hours earlier, when the expected texts had come, the are-you-awake, the got-plans-tonight?, the I’m-horny-and-I-miss-you-let’s-not-waste-any-more-time texts.

(Leading to the exact opposite of what was good for you after the breakup.)

(For fucks sake, you tell yourself.)

(Dua Lipa did not write New Rules for you to be this pathetic, this needy, this easy.)

“Fine, then.” You say, blasé, casual, giving off an air of nonchalance and indifference that couldn’t be further from the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. “You don’t have to spend the night. Can you see yourself out or do you want me to get up?”

The way he looks back at you after you speak is enough to break your heart all over again. It’s a pleading look, and he’s willing you with his eyes to try and communicate for once, for the first time, but you refuse to meet his eyeline.

“I can see myself out.”

“Right.”

He dresses in silence, grabs his stuff and stalks out your flat, slamming your door on his way out. You scramble out of bed to watch him walk down your street, the way you used to when you started dating, when he used to blow you kisses as he ambled off your drive, or when you used to watch him run to a taxi on mornings when he was late for training.

This time, for the first time, he doesn’t look back at your window.

It’s been ONE year to the day since you met him, and you hate yourself for noticing the parallels as you walk into the living room at Marcus’s NYE party and he’s the first face you can recognise.

It’s like a scene straight out of a romantic comedy and it makes you want to die.

(Fortunately, he doesn’t quite spot you yet, and you’re free to make a beeline to the kitchen, in peace and quiet with an unopened bottle of Chardonnay as your company.)

(It lasts about 15 minutes.)

“Hey.”

You turn around and you see him, smiling at you in that same, stupid, garish, adorable Christmas jumper, holding out a Quality Street chocolate. It’s a peace offering, an olive branch, and you take it with a nod. “You alright?”

Jesse nods and takes a seat on the sofa behind you. “So, what are your New Year's resolutions, hey?”

You settle on the sofa next to him, knocking your knee against his accidentally, cursing and looking at him from over the rim of your glass of wine.

Jesse chuckles then shrugs sarcastically. “Can’t improve perfection.”

Your instinct is to let out a cackle, and you do, you burst out laughing so dramatically your drink nearly projects out of your nostrils, because he’s not even wrong and there’s not much about him that could really do with changing.

(Scrap that, he should learn to cook.)

(And definitely how to use a tumble dryer.)

(And call time of death on those dances he insisted on doing every time he scored a goal.)

“You’re the fucking worst.”

“What are your resolutions then, hey?” He knocks his knees with yours.

“Eat more fruit.” You fib.

Stop being so stubborn and accept that sometimes you’re in the wrong. Stop bottling up your emotions. Don’t be afraid to let people know how you feel. Stop being such a fucking coward all the time.

(Resolutions that Jesse of all people didn’t need to know about.)

“Boring.” He hums.

“Drink more water.” You add, nodding. “Start going to yoga again.”

“That’s so generic.”

“Fuck off. It’s called self improvement.”

“It sounds like every basic 23 year old girl I’ve ever met.”

You peek at your phone when he looks away: 23:58.

Fuck. How the fuck had it got so late already?

Your friends begin to gather in hordes in the kitchen, the TV broadcasting the fireworks in London has been switched on and drinks are poured and held aloft. Jesse jumps to his feet and offers you his hand as you do the same; his hand feels warm and familiar and when he lets go it suddenly feels like there’s acres of space between you again.

“I think I’m getting déjà vu.”

You roll your eyes, resisting the urge to smile. “Déjà vu to when?”

“That night. The first time we met.”

Jesse tips his chin backwards, and someone behind him trips, bumps him forward, and he stumbles into you, by reflex finding your waist and your free hand pressing up against his chest.

He’s inches in front of you, and you can feel your pulse in your eyeballs and his breath across your face.

You splutter out, “I’m really, really fucking sorry.”

Jesse laughs. “What the fuck are you on about now, mad woman?”

“I’m sorry. About it all. About everything.”

He shakes his head, as if to say it’s okay, stop apologising, we haven’t been this close without wanting to kill each other since the break up and I don’t think we should even tempt the possibility of us arguing again.

And he’s leaning in, and you can smell his cologne and it’s comforting and reassuring and confusing, and makes your head spin but grounds your feet, and you’re closing your eyes as your friends begin to shout.

Happy new year!

And he’s kissing you and you’re kissing him and you can feel his hand gripping your waist, holding and squeezing you and you can feel your stomach fizzing. When he pulls away he’s looking at you softly, gaze mellowed by tequila and the closeness between you two. “Happy new years, Jess.” is all you can muster, as he leans in and smiles again.

“Happy new year.”

#My writing #jesse lingard #jesse lingard fanfiction #jesse lingard one shot #jesse lingard imagine #england nt #england nt fanfiction #england nt imagine #manchester united imagine #cant believe i just typed that i feel DIRTY #footballer fanfiction #footballer imagines #footballer imagine #footballer one shot

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madamrogersstorytelling · 6 years ago

Text

You — 2: A Three Letter Word

Ben Barnes/Reader

The second part of this series that I feel is starting to be quite different from what it was supposed to be. Things happen, right? But I kinda like this, where this is going. Thought I didn’t know what to write in this part but when I finally started, it kind of wrote itself. I hope you all like this and want to stay on board till the end!

Words: 2707

Just a few days after New Year’s you found yourself back there at the mall. Walking around gave back the moments, how you couldn’t be sure what you should be actually feeling about all of it. It had been awkward. It had been you listening to them. It hadn’t been like the old days but at the same time, that’s exactly what it had been.

And when you finally got back home in the evening, you found a blaming thought from the back of your spent and tired mind.

You should have turned around.

But would it have been able to change anything? Would it have made a difference?

Knowing that this time you could be on your own, without people who still dared to call themselves your friends, your mind was at ease. This time it was a lot nicer. People were still busy, this time because of the sales, but it was different. Even the snow outside was friendlier.

You felt good. Now that you had shaken all those thoughts and self-blames off. It wasn’t part of your character to dwell in self-pity for longer than it was necessary; and often it even wasn’t. All emotional pain lasts for twelve minutes, anything longer than that comes from your head. The one who had said that had been wise. You walked past the booth where you had bought the smoothie last time and smiled to yourself. This time you just walked past it and took the busy door to get outside.

At the same time as the snow was friendlier now, it had gotten more beautiful. It wasn’t treacherous or cruel, this time it was soft and sweet, almost a bit too friendly to be so cold after all. You saw those glimmering diamonds on the trees, like from a storybook. Your steps were still cracking on the snow, the funny sound that filled the air as people walked by, to the left, to the right, to every single compass point to get where they had to be.

You went to that bookstore again. It was a lot warmer inside than out in the cold winter wind, but it was also harder to breathe. Wind gave you a lot of air to breathe, even though some of it made you cough, but inside, in the middle of people, it was harder. Not too hard; it was never too hard to breathe in a bookstore. A friendly looking woman, who you hadn’t seen before, greeted you asking did you need any help.

“No, thank you, I’m just looking,” you told her with a warm smile.

“Of course, take your time. Ask if you need anything,” she added and walked away.

You nodded and turned away before she had properly left. Your fingers touched many books, but none of them seemed right. Maybe it was because of the busy people around you, but you couldn’t put your mind in the mode of finding a new book to read. It was often hard, especially after reading a very good one. Then it was practically impossible. Your mind gathered titles and authors for rain checks, but you ended up leaving without a new friend.

That didn’t bother you too much. You had made the decision to go in the flower shop today. Its beauty had kept lingering in your head for all those days, the text on the chalkboard.

Come in and admire.

This was a good day for admiring. With your mind at ease, you really felt it was. Perhaps you could find a pretty flower to get home with you…

You walked all the way from the bookstore to the stoplights that’d take you to the flower shop’s street. The street where you had parted your ways with him.

He had visited your thoughts every now and then. He wasn’t filling your thoughts, not in that certain way at least. You remembered his smile with warmth. Those eyes that were so dark they could’ve been gates to whole new worlds. That moment you had shared together.

That moment had made you think that maybe, just maybe, every single day had something good in it. Every single day had something worth remembering, worth appreciating because in the end, the small things mattered. Not the big picture; it was often messy and turned around after some time.

People remembered little things so rarely. A look shared with someone, that smile from the bus driver when you thank him, a cute dog, those small laughs, different tones in them or just a single word someone says to you. People want to believe that big things in life matter more. When the truth is that the small things matter just as much, even more. People should learn to understand the power of small things.

You crossed the street with an older man and a woman with a Papillon. It kept looking up at you like it had just met a new friend, and you couldn’t help the smile that found its way to your lips. The small dog’s cute face, its big ears made you almost touch it but you were able to keep your hands to yourself; you walked right next to the dog when you crossed the street. The woman smiled to you.

“Bailey loves everyone,” she told you. She was about your mother’s age, very sweet woman who seemingly loved her dog very much. “She has been looking at you like that for a while now.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” your eyes found Bailey when you made it to the other side of the stoplights. The woman stopped, and Bailey stopped right in front of you, eyes telling she wanted you to pet her. Her small tail started wagging happily as you finally crouched down in front of her.

She was very happy when you gave her number of pets. Both of your hands caressing her soft coat, you babbled to her all kinds of little praises and told her how cute she was. Bailey kept making those cute sounds, partly whining and partly almost laughing. She danced on her small paws, made a circle and then came back to dance in front of you.

“Yes, you’re cute! You’re so very cute!” you babbled to her, fingers nearly disappearing in the middle of her white fur. The brown parts of her head were almost red like a fox and she even looked like a fox.

When you finally had to get up, Bailey started to dance around in circles. The woman with her laughed just as fondly as you did.

“How old is she?” you asked.

“Two and a half. She’s my granddaughter’s dog but lives with me and my husband. The girl can’t take her home but she wanted a dog, so I thought why don’t we take one for her.”

“That’s sweet,” you said, giving Bailey another pet between her ears. If she was any quicker, she would’ve been able to lick your palm.

“She’s just like that with everyone. Everyone is a potential friend.”

“Of course,” you looked down at jumping and dancing Bailey. “She never stops, huh?”

“No,” the woman chuckled, “she could go on for days. And I don’t think she’ll stop then, either. She stops only to eat and sleep. When my granddaughter comes over, they’re restless together. She’s four. I don’t know does Bailey transmit that to her or the other way around.”

“She’s a sweetie,” you smiled to the dog.

“She is. But we should probably head home. It was nice to meet you.”

“Yes. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again, who knows?”

“Yeah, who knows? Bailey will recognize you from now on.”

You gave her a small laugh and caressed Bailey’s head once more before started to walk again. You had to look over your shoulder to see how Bailey scuttled next to the woman and really looked at every single person very fondly. That dog was so full of love.

You were closer to the door than you thought. The chalkboard was by it again with the exact same text as last time.

Come in and admire.

You saw the squirrel statue in the middle of moss and plants. Someone had added fake snow; you didn’t know what it was made of but it looked very real. It just couldn’t be real, it’d melt. The same woman walked inside the shop, this time without a vase. You could see the white tulips by the counter.

What you didn’t see was that the ground was slippery just before the door. You didn’t see the small sign by the chalkboard that told you to watch your steps.

But someone was there just in time to save you. The door of the shop opened when your foot slipped, you saw a hand and fell against a soft, black coat. An arm wrapped itself around you and you heard a male voice talking somewhere by your head. A bit husky voice but still so soft and caring, almost caressing your ears. There was worry in it, enough that you heard it in the middle of his British accent.

“Whoa, easy… You didn’t see the sign?”

You turned your head a little to meet his eyes as you were going to answer but your mouth just opened.

The same dark eyes, the same messy hair, even the same woolen scarf around his neck and the coat you were leaning against was the one he had had on the last time.

It was him. And that was the only thing you got out of your mouth.

“You…”

He looked confused for a moment but then it hit him. You could see the realization in his eyes.

He saw that moment by the stoplights before Christmas, the girl on the other side, almost against the pole of the lights. How you had smiled to him, and he had thought you had caught him looking at you for a bit too long. He felt the same warmth on his cheeks now too, hoping it wasn’t visible.

“You,” he repeated your word, voice even softer than before. His arm was still around you, now more staying against you than holding you up. “Are you… are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” he forced himself to speak. He knew he’d get stuck in this odd moment if he didn’t. Blinking his eyes he let the words get free, righting his body a little to touch your shoulder with his free hand.

The way he cared… He didn’t need to, he was just a stranger, and you were another stranger who almost fell right in front of a door. It was touching, filled you with the same warmth as his smile and glances last time.

This man was one of the good ones.

“I’m… I’m fine. Without you, I would be on the ground. Thank you for saving me.”

You could see how his smile changed a bit. He was so humble that you were sure you saw… Was he blushing?

“No, it’s nothing. What kind of a man would I be if I just watched a woman falling?” he chuckled a little. You had to join in, let your eyebrows jump a little in agreement. His hand on your shoulder slid down to your upper arm. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

You nodded when he started to make a caressing movement on your upper arm. “I’m fine, really. I’m sure,” you added the last words when he looked at you, blinking his eyes again. It made his chuckles sound like breathed titters. “Just… I’m not used to falling in someone’s arms instead of on the hard ground.”

He loosened his grip of you, arm still around your form. “If it eases your pain a bit, I’m not the one who saves women every day. I think the feeling’s mutual.”

His cheeks were still slightly pink. And with the way you looked at him, he knew the warmth was visible.

He had just never thought he’d see you again. You… He noticed that he would’ve liked a name more than just a pronoun but didn’t dare to ask. It would’ve been a bit too pushy. And this was the moment for being pushy.

You gave him an assuring smile. “Thank you for saving me anyway. It was my luck that you were coming out of...” The ending was left hanging in the air between the two of you as you swallowed.

“The flower shop. Yeah, why?” he frowned a little, more asking than anything else.

“Nothing, I just…” you shook your head a little as if it was full of buzzing you wanted to get rid of. “I was just wondering… We keep meeting on the almost same spot.”

He gave a titter to that. “Oh… I thought you were going to tell how my masculinity dripped because I came out of a flower shop... I hope you don’t think it’s unmanly of me to like flowers,” he was blinking again, humble as he was.

“No, it’s not unmanly at all…” You shook your head a little again. “It’s actually… It’s quite… cute.”

He looked down at you and the redness of his cheeks became deeper. It was harder and harder for you to look away from him. He was even more beautiful when he was close to you, you could see every single flaw, but he was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen. He let go of you slowly, as if he was worrying you might end up falling on your first step, but kept his gaze on you.

“Thank you,” he was late with that, but it didn’t bother you. It bothered him, though. This moment was very bizarre; literally just meters away from the place you had met for the first time. If he left now, would he meet you by those other stoplights next time? He didn’t want to try.

“Didn’t you find anything?” you noticed only now that his hands were empty.

“No,” it was his turn to shake his head with a kind smile on his lips, “I wasn’t looking for anything, just wandering around. I hope you could find something nice, though. They have very pretty white tulips in a vase…”

His voice drifted away. He was babbling. He kept that kind smile on to make it seem like his sentence ended there. It really ended there.

“Sounds beautiful… I have to take a look at them. I was hoping I could find something nice to take home with me.”

“The tulips are really nice. Just make sure you don’t let them freeze.”

“I won’t let them…”

You looked at him nodding once. He sucked on his lips a little. And when he stopped, the same smile remained. And his gaze remained on you…

You had to get out of this situation before something happened, something you’d regret till the end of your days. As much as leaving now made you feel bad.

“I think I’ll go inside now,” you said and pointed at the door with your finger.

He almost jumped back to give you more space as if he was waking up from his thoughts. “Yes, that’s a good choice. It’s much safer inside. Mind your steps when you come back outside.”

“I will. Thank you again,” you smiled and reached for his forearm to touch. It was a thanking gesture, and thankfully he got the meaning of it. He nodded and let you walk towards the door, following your careful steps with his eyes.

Before he had the chance, you spoke: “It was nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too,” he never stopped smiling. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“If you like flowers and I’m just about to get inside for the first time… Yeah, I think we might.”

He chuckled a little. “Till the next time, then.”

“Yeah… Bye and thank you.”

“It’s fine, really,” he took a few steps but kept his gaze on you. “Bye.”

You opened the door and went inside, and he started to walk.

At the end of the street he realized he had totally forgotten to ask your name. All he still had was the pronoun, you were still…

You.

****

Tag List: @padfootagain @billyrvsso @jennareedus @mamaraptor @suchatinyinfinity @delicatelilyflower @whostheblondegirl @something-tofightfor @accio-rogers @19mrs-rogers18 @keithseabrook27

#you series #chapter 2 #chapter 2: a three letter word #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader

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runenc03 · 5 years ago

Text

Speed date (a seaycee oneshot) - for Juul

Writing date: January 2019

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none! :)

--------------------------------------------------

Kaycee's pov

"Stop that", I said, while Bailey kept tickling me with some sort of brush with bronzer on it. I had never liked make up that much, but Bailey insisted that it was necessary tonight. I sighed. Saying that I wasn't entirely comfortable in this situation was an understatement. Bailey, on the other hand, seemed determined to change my current mood.

"Hey! Brighten up! You're going on a date!"

I knew that I should feel happy about that, but all I could feel was the anxiousness eating at me. I understood, however, that Bailey was just trying to make me feel better, so I went along with it. Just when I tried to plaster a fake smile on my face, something terrible crossed my mind, and I couldn't help but panic, all thoughts about faking happiness erased from my mind.

"Oh God, please don't tell me you set me up to go on a date with some guy who wants a barbie doll. I'm a brunette, and not planning on dying my hair, or anything else to please him, for that matter. What's he even like? I think it's about time you told me, you know I don't like surprises."

I could see a smirk forming on Bailey's lips, and I knew that it meant problems.

"Oh honey, you're not just going on a date with one guy."

"What?!"

I completely ignored her whines of protest as I swiftly turned my head, apparently smearing some make up on the wrong parts of my face in the proces.

As if I cared.

"What do you mean, not one guy? You do know that I want a steady relationship and not some silly fling for a few weeks, don't you? You should know by now that I'm not that type of girl ."

I scrunched my nose in disgust.

"Relax Kayc, there's nothing to worry about. I'll drive you there and you'll see that I really gave you the opportunity of your lifetime. I'm 100% sure that you'll find a good guy tonight!"

I rolled my eyes in disbelief and couldn't help but murmur quietly: "Easy for you to say, you're engaged."

I don't know if Bailey heard me, her ears don't always work as well as normal people's ears do, but if she did, she ignored my statement completely, busying herself with more brushes, pencils and colours.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaand done!!"

For the first time tonight, I looked properly at my reflection in the mirror. I don't like to admit it, but Bailey really did a great job. I discovered that 'painting my face' had been quite the exaggeration and the amount of make up on my face was only minimal, but applied perfectly. My skin actually had a nice colour, not the blushy mess from dance or the spooky white tint outside of it. She'd kept my eyes pretty naturel, but used some mascara that made those brown orbs about 3 times bigger.

I looked beautiful.

I turned around to face Bailey, who looked at me with a mix between proudness and awe.

"I can't believe I just made you even more beautiful!"

She actually squealed. I rolled my eyes once again, but couldn't help the little giggle that escaped my lips.

"Come on, let's choose some heels!"

At the mention of heels, my smile dropped a bit, and I immediately began protesting, not planning on walking on something with the height of the Eiffel Tower - something Bailey would undoubtedly encourage me to do.

"Oh no, you're not doing that to me, I already let you paint my face, the guy won't have a good impression of me if I can't even properly walk to him."

I refused to think of my company tonight in plural.

For just a split second, I saw the fierceness in my friend's eyes, and I was afraid that she'd be stubborn and insist I wore heels, but after that terrifying second, her eyes softened and an understanding smile began gracing her lips. She nodded her head in agreement.

"Alright, I guess they won't really pay attention to your shoes, you'll be sitting for the rest of the night, after all. The low sneakers you bought the other day would be cute as w- Oh Lord is it this late already?! Jesus, Kayc, we need to go!! Put on your shoes in the car, there's no time left! Come on, go!"

And off she was, leaving me dumbfounded in my bathroom, wrapping my head around the new information I'd just received. Sitting? Again the use of plural? Where was this, no, where was I going?

Bailey didn't give me much time to ponder, however, 'cause her head appeared again, shooing me out of my bathroom and straight into the car.

I sighed. Whatever happened tonight, it'd sure be an adventure.

*********

"You know I like spending time with you, but you should really get out of the car and begin your night out, sweety."

I sighed. Bailey was right. I should get out of the car. Truth was, the big building with the bold letters 'speed dates' on it made me paralyzed, and my legs refused to execute the message my brain was sending them. I had hoped Bailey had just set me up with some guy who was just as insecure and awkward about the whole situation as I was, someone who didn't want to socialise, but eventually had to give in to Bailey's persistence. If my date and I felt the same way, some of the tension would undoubtedly vanish, and then I could at least relax a bit. But no, Bailey had to go and sign me up for a night speed dating.

Welcome, nerves!

"Oh come on Kaycee! Seriously, when was the last time you had a crush? When you were 15? You have to move on! If I'd known then that that classmate would be the only thing close to a relationship in 10 freaking years, I had pushed you a bit harder to flirt with him! You have to go out there, there's no such thing as a perfect guy suddenly appearing in your house, ready to sweep you off your feet. Those are not perfect at all, they're called kidnappers, or murderers, or rape-"

"Okay okay, I get it, I have to go out if I want to have a relationship. Shut up"

Bailey laughed. She knew I didn't mean to be so harsh, it were just the nerves eating at me. But I couldn't help it, I was incredibly scared of socialising, and this was literally a night of speed dating.

Quite the jump out of my comfort zone.

"Okay, sorry Bails, I didn't mean to be so harsh. It's just...you know it's been a very long time since I've pictured myself in that kind of relationship with someone."

"I know it's been a few years, but you sound like you're a nun of 75 instead of an affection-deprived 25 year old!"

"Bailey!"

Bailey just shrugged, and I rolled my eyes to show her my annoyance. Again.

"Seriously though, Kayc, the time of crushes on classmates is long gone, it's time for real relationships! Go! Get out of the car! You've been procrastinating for 15 minutes already!"

And it was then and there that I made up on mind. Bailey might be a bit annoying, but she was also right. I was a grown woman -in the figurative way at least, I was tiny- and I should act like one. It was time to go out there and meet some new people. It would do me good.

Mustering all the courage I could, I quickly hugged Bailey goodbye, stepped out of the car and walked towards the large building.

It was time to meet some new people.

*********

The gong sounded for the umpteenth time that night, and I could barely keep the smile plastered on my face. I was so tired, tired of having to pretend to be spontaneous, to be social, to be enjoying myself. I just wanted to put my sweatpants on and crawl in my bed.

The guy who had been talking to me about something I couldn't care less about stood up, said goodbye to me and walked to the next woman. I lowered my head, hiding my face with my hair. I needed a moment for myself, even of it was just for a few seconds.

There is only 1 left, 1 more and you can go home, phone Bailey to tell her this was the worst idea she's ever had and go to sleep. 1 more. You can do this, come on, get a grip on yourself Rice!

"Uhm, hello, I-I'm Sean"

People say that love at first sight doesn't exist, that it's something only delusional people believe in. That you can't fall in love with someone right away, that you should know someone first, before you get feelings for that specific person.

I have to agree with them.

You can't fall in love with someone you've never met before.

But apparently, you can fall in love with someone you had a crush on as a 15-year-old, 10 years later.

He'd gotten taller, even though he was already quite tall compared to me when we were 15. His hair had gotten slightly longer, highlighting his features. He seemed stronger, too, not overly so, but just enough that you could see he'd gotten comfortable in his own body. His jaw was covered in the slightest stubble, barely noticeable, and his eyes shone with an uncertainty, hesitantly trying to figure out where he knew me from.

"H-hi, I'm Kaycee"

I saw his eyes widen, lighting up with recogization. His smile became warm, instead of hesitant, and he took the seat in front of me.

"Kaycee, as in, the Kaycee who was my classmate in middle school and high school?

The smile on his face became contagious, and I felt a smile growing on my face, as well as the blush covering my cheeks.

"Yes, that one! It's been such a long time since I last was you! W-what are you doing here?"

As soon as those words came out of my mouth, I wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor. Why? Why did I have to be such a weirdo? Why did I have to be so awkward? As if he came to a speed date night for the drinks. Think before you speak, Rice!

But apparently, my gaffe didn't scare him away like I'd thought it would, because his smile became even wider, dimples appeared on his cheeks, and a light chuckle came out of his mouth.

"Well, I came to find a girl I can get to know and eventually fall in love with, and, honestly? Our current situation feels very promising.."

And for just a moment, I sat there, not knowing what to do, or how to react. But as soon as I looked into his eyes, I found myself grateful for the fact that he was the one who decided to break the ice. It made me feel more relaxed, more comfortable, and for some reason, I felt like he knew how stressed I'd been before, and had purposely said something so daring so I could feel comfortable afterwards.

Always thinking about others.

He hadn't changed one bit.

"Okay, so since we only have 7 minutes and I really want to catch up to you, I'd suggest we began talking!"

I smiled once more, still in awe of the boy, no, man now, who sat in front of me, and that's how we started our conversation.

We talked about literally everything, from what we'd studied after we gratuated to what we still did for hobbies, and I completely forgot the time, or how long we had been talking. I simply got so lost in the conversation we had, was so distracted by his eyes, his way of talking, the smile that constantly seemed to be etched around his lips, that I even forgot I was in a room with so many other people in it. It felt like it was just me and him, safely inside of a bubble, talking, and I never wanted this moment to end.

"Well, since I liked maths so much, I decided to go study medicin in Leuven. I've just always wanted to help people, just like so many people helped me through the y-"

My sentence was abruptly cut off by the loud sound of the gong, and I couldn't help but notice that the flash of dissapointment that had undoubtedly crossed my eyes, was reflected into his own.

A high-pitched voice suddenly filled the air, addressing all the participants.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen. You've had the chance to meet all your dates. If you want to, you're always welcome to drink something and talk some more in our little bar. I hope you had a good time, thanks for trusting our speed date business!"

As the applause for the unknown lady slowed down, I dared looking at Sean again. He was already looking at me, that mysterious little smile still etched around his lips. I knew that we'd both had a good time, but what he said next still caught me off guard.

"Let's just get out of here. I know a place we can properly catch up. That is, if you want to, of course."

My face probably lit up like a christmas tree, but I really couldn't care less. Here I was, with my first crush, the first one who made my heart beat faster, the first one who invaded my dreams, the first one who made me feel things I really couldn't explain.

And after all those years, he was still the only one.

I guess I never really let go of him. True, I tried to get over him, convincing myself over the years that it'd just been a silly crush in high school. Truth was, it had always been so much more than that.

"Y-yes, of course I want to! We still have a lot of catching up to do!"

He hurried over to my side of the table, gently pulling my chair so I could stand up. Then, he showed me his arm, signaling me to loop my own through it, and beamed at me.

"Shall we go than, my lady?"

His poor immitation of a British gentleman made me burst with laughter, but made my heart melt at the same time. Together, we walked towards the door -he held it open for me- and stepped into the night, to get to know each other better, and eventually, just maybe, to fall in love.

Remind me to thank Bailey later.

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