#and yes i am aware that neither response is. well-adjusted

[truckstoptigers]

i keep trying not to give myself any more bruises but like it's either i do that or i throw smth across my room and scream and well. i'm not doing that second one.

[prismatica-the-strange]

All I Am Belongs to You | As Long As I Know Who I Am

Warnings: 18+, show typical violence, attempted sexual assault, mentions of sex but no details

A covert mission in London goes awry when Amélia is recognized by a ghost from her past. The boys fight amongst themselves for who gets to play her husband.

Pairing: Aramis x Amélia with anAthos x Amélia subplot

Word Count: 6.4k

I'm Still Here by Colm R. McGuinness (Amélia) | Follow On by Celtic Woman (Aramis) | Slow by Chris Mann (Athos) | Dividers by @steddiecameraroll-graphics | Reblog banner by @cafekitsune

"Dear Amélia, you look gorgeous."

"Is Her Majesty sure it's not too much?"

She feels ridiculous and refuses to see herself in the mirror. She'd run to Paris to get away from this, but here she is at her final fitting for a dress she surely can't afford.

"The whole point of this little ruse is for you to take the room's attention," Anne explains, " I don't think you'll have any trouble in that area, no matter which Musketeer is on your arm."

She dares a small glance at her reflection and her eyes go soft as she reminisces the life she gave up.

She hadn't exactly volunteered to help with this ploy, but Constance's husband forbade her from taking part, and Amélia is the only other woman the musketeers trust for their mission. She had a choice, but she couldn't bring herself to say no when they sent D'Artagnan to plead their case with those soft brown eyes of his after she'd laughed in Aramis's face.

"Whichever draws the shortest straw, you mean?" The question is meant to be rhetorical, but the queen scoffs, adjusting her skirt.

"I'm sure they're each begging Captain Treville to pick them to play your beloved as we speak."

Athos rolls his eyes at his friends, "This is ridiculous, you are aware of that, yes?"

"Treville told us to work it out amongst ourselves," Porthos grins, "That's all we're doing."

"Unless you'd both like to bow out like dear D'Artagnan, and let me enjoy the lady for a night or two?," Aramis suggests, flourishing his rapier when neither move to do so, "No? Alright then, draw your swords."

"I won't maim you just to play pretend for a night," Athos sighs.

"I will," Porthos pushes past him, sword in hand, "You always whisk Amélia away when she visits, and anyway, I'm sure she'd prefer to be on the arm of a real man."

"Perhaps," D'Artagnan cuts in, gripping the shoulder of each of his friends, "We should wait and let her choose who she prefers. She is the one who will be in the most danger, after all. Shouldn't she be with whoever she's most comfortable with?"

"I agree."

"Well, that just means Aramis gets to be the duke!" Porthos argues, "Where's the fun in that?"

Unfortunately for both Porthos and Aramis, Amélia chooses Athos to be her escort for the mission, and he fails to hide his small, snarky smile when she does.

The ride to England is long and incredibly dull, longer still since the Queen insisted she take a carriage instead of riding.

"Would one of you please ride in here with me? I'm unbelievably bored," She laments through the open window of the coach, "Or let me ride with one of you? Please? Just for a short while at least?"

"I'm not sure that's the best idea," Athos says, but she won't take no for an answer.

"Aramis, my love?" She pouts over at him and Porthos laughs when his friend goes all doe-eyed at her words.

The others chuckle when he stops the group to help her up onto his horse, beaming proudly at the feeling of his arms around her.

"Stop that," She reaches back to swat his cheek, "You puff up your chest much more and I'll fall off the horse."

"I'd never let that happen, my dear."

"Perhaps I should ride with Porthos instead," She teases.

"Perhaps we should continue on?" Athos suggests, cutting off any possible response from Porthos.

"What possible reason could you have to play house with Athos over you dear love Aramis?" He whispers in her ear.

"Is driving you mad with jealousy not enough of a reason?"

"Even you aren't that cruel, my love."

She sighs and rests her head on his shoulder, admiring her intimate view of him, "I was afraid I'd become distracted on your arm. That didn't seem wise given the high priority of this mission and all."

"Ah, and no risk of that with Athos?" He snickers.

"Of course not," She giggles, "He's too much of a stick in the mud."

Their laughter stifles when Athos rides up beside them with a glare having obviously heard them.

"Sorry," She bites her bottom lip but it does little to hide her smile, and the two of them burst out laughing when he rides ahead in annoyance.

They make camp a few hours later, just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon.

"Come on, love," Porthos urges, tugging at her hand when she stands to stretch, "Sing something for us."

"Mm, it's been quite some time since we've heard your lovely voice," D'Artagnan agrees from across the campfire.

"You boys are insufferable," She rolls her eyes with a smile, "What would you like to hear?"

"Something fun!" Porthos requests.

"Something quiet," Athos hisses, "God knows who could be out there in the dark, and I don't wish to attract their attention."

"Something... romantic," Aramis grins, pulling her down onto his lap, and the others groan.

"Romantic, Monsieur?"

"Please, no," Porthos begs, "Unless you plan on sitting on my lap as you do."

She starts to hum a melody before soft words begin to seemingly float in the air around them, wrapping her companions in the sweet sound of her voice.

Even Athos finds himself momentarily soothed by the sound, eyes closing as he listens.

But no one more so than Aramis. He hums along like a hymn on his lips, his eyes and soul awash with adoration.

He brushes her hair aside and presses his forehead against her shoulder and neck, as though at prayer at her altar of song, mouthing silent 'I love you's against her skin. He slowly kisses his way up her jaw and she's near breathless by the end of the song.

"Stop," She sighs, but she doesn't move to get away, "Aramis..."

"My apologies," He murmurs, pulling away, "I seemed to have been entranced and lost myself."

She finds herself drifting closer, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

"If you two are going to fuck, could you at least not do it in front of us?" Porthos snorts.

"You make it sound so indelicate," Aramis argues, fingers brushing across her now-flushed cheeks.

The next morning she wakes with her head on his chest and his cape around her shoulders.

She's careful not to wake him as she sits slightly, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his sleeping lips.

She jumps when his hand cups the back of her neck, keeping her there to kiss her harder.

"You were awake," She laughs.

"And yet you kissed me when you thought otherwise, you truly are a romantic, dear Amélia."

"Get up, both of you," Athos orders, readying his horse, "We're leaving."

The two share a small smile and he quickly pecks the tip of her nose before she rises to her feet.

When Aramis moves to help her on his horse, Athos stops him and reaches his hand out to her, "You're riding with me today."

She looks confused, but pulls herself up with his arm, "Any particular reason, Athos?"

He settles his arms around her and she continues before he can answer, "Or were you just envious of Aramis?"

She can all but hear his eyes roll when he sighs and she smiles back at him.

All things considered, she actually quite enjoys being the center of their attention.

"My thought was that if we are to play married, perhaps we should know more about each other," He explains, "To make it more believable."

"Your logic is sound. What would you like to know?"

Aramis is flaming, his glare burning holes in the back of Aramis's head. The way he's holding her, their shared whispers and soft looks ravage his mind with jealousy.

He grits his teeth when she laughs and a plot to reclaim her affections begins to form.

He quickly averts his gaze when her eyes lock with his and she shakes her head with a chuckle.

"Why is it you find such pleasure in toying with us?"

"I grew up with three brothers," She says, "The lot of you bring out that mischievous nature they instilled in me."

She's quiet for a moment, smiling to herself as she thinks of her siblings, "I'm fortunate to have you all."

He smiles softly and leans forward to kiss her temple.

By the time they arrive at the manor, both she and Athos have changed into nicer clothes and are riding in the coach.

She takes a deep breath to calm her nerves and he takes her hand in his, trying to soothe her.

"I won't let anything happen to you," He promises, kissing the back of her hand comfortingly.

They step out and are greeted by their hosts.

"Sir and Madam LeBlanc," Lord Smith smiles at them, "It's so nice that you came all this way to join us."

"It is an honor Lord Smi-"

"Actually!" Aramis interrupts and Athos freezes mid-bow, "I'm Lord LeBlanc."

He ignores Athos's glare as he steps forward with a polite bow.

"You see, I travel dressed as one of my guards so my darling love has a guard right on her arm should anything happen on the road," She watches with wide eyes when he takes her hand with the most devout look in his eye, "I would never forgive myself if something ever happened to her."

She nearly swoons when he lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles.

"Thank you, you may join the others," He barely glances at Athos who fights the urge to roll his eyes as he bows and moves to stand with Porthos and D'Artagnan.

"What an inspired idea!" Smith muses, motioning them to follow him, "Come! Once you've settled in your rooms, I'll show you the grounds."

Aramis offers her his arm and she takes it, whispering through her smile as they follow their host, "Athos is going to kill you."

"I'd like to see him try."

"I'm going to kill you!" Athos snaps as soon as they're left to their own in their rooms, slamming his friend against the wall, "Is your ego so important that you would put this whole mission, including Amélia, in jeopardy?"

"Athos-"

"I would never allow her to get hurt!" Aramis hisses back, "She's safer at my side!"

"Boys-"

"You pompous, self-important, ass!"

"Stop it! Both of you!" She shouts, shoving her way between them.

"He was reckless and-"

"We all agree what Aramis did was stupid and ill-conceived," She huffs, glaring at both of them, "But what's done is done. Making a fuss now won't change the situation."

"Amélia's right," Porthos says, "We need to focus on the mission. And besides, we can kick his ass when we get back to Paris."

He and Athos go to change into more appropriate clothes for men of their respective stations and when Athos returns first, he moves to stand by her.

"Please tell me you won't instantly forgive him for this?"

"He's lucky you got to him first."

He can't help but smile to himself at her response.

"There we are," Aramis comes out dressed in finery, spinning to give them a good view, "How do I look?"

Amélia steps up to him and slaps him, "If you ever disrespect my choices again, I'll gut you myself, got that?"

She takes his arm and hooks it with hers, "Now, come on. We have a mission to do."

"I-" He stumbles when she tugs him toward the door, "Absolutely!"

He soon forgets his recent transgression as they walk through the halls with her head resting on his shoulder.

"Oh look, my love," She pulls away, stepping toward an open window, "What a darling creature!"

"Yes, you're beautiful," She coos, when the white long-haired cat nuzzles into her hand, "I had a cat just like you when I was a girl."

He comes up behind her and reaches out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. Her smile is genuine when she looks back at him and he falls in love with her all over again.

By the time they part with their hosts and make it back to their room, he's aching to tear her dress off and bring her to ecstasy.

"Dear Amélia," He breathes against her lips as he presses her against the door. He begs, "Let me take you tonight, my love."

"Aramis," She sighs, her chest heaving. She tugs his hair and he starts kissing down her jaw, "Aramis, we can't."

As if on cue, the door jerks behind her, and Porthos bangs on the surface, "You two better not be doing what I think you're doing in there!"

The next morning is slower than the last and, despite Athos's annoyance, she and Aramis lock the bedroom door and laze in the plush bed together.

He holds himself over her, lavishing her skin with slow, loving kisses.

"Sweet... beautiful... darling, Amélia," He murmurs as she runs her hands through his hair, "What must I do to earn your forgiveness?"

She laughs as though he hasn't won her back her favor ten times over with the passion between them throughout the morning.

She scratches at his beard as she pretends to think and his eyes flutter shut.

"Draw me a bath?"

He kneels beside her on the bed and brings her hands to his lips, "Of course-"

She pulls him back down on top of her, kissing him as if the world had stopped outside their door and was simply waiting for them to finish.

Once the bath is filled and the room smells of rose oil, he rouses her from the bed.

"Heaven awaits," He motions toward the bath with a small bow. He leads her over by the hand, kissing her shoulder when he helps her slip her robe off.

The moan she lets out as she lowers herself into the hot water is absolutely whorish. It's the first truly nice bath she's had in ages. And why not take advantage of the situation? She deserves to be pampered, just a little, right.

"I thought only I could get you to make that sound?" He pouts, crouching beside the tub.

His finger dip just below the surface of the water, making ripples.

"Aramis."

"Yes, my love-" He laughs when she pulls him by the shirt to fall against her lips and water splashes around them, soaking the fabric, "If you wanted me to join you, you could have just asked."

"How silly of me," She smiles into the kiss.

"Come," He encourages her to sit up. One hand wanders her back while the other motions to her hair, "May I?"

She nods and he helps her wet her hair. Her eyes flutter at the feel of his fingers running through her hair and massaging her scalp, washing away the long ride.

She moans his name, head lolling to side, into his touch. She leans her arms on the side of the tub, resting her chin atop them.

"Don't stop," She murmurs, her eyes falling shut.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

The moment is cut short when the door slams open but a moment later. He jumps to his feet, dashing for his sword next to the bed, but stops when he realizes it's their companions.

"Don't you know how to knock?"

"What do you think this is, a vacation?" Porthos asks.

"How did you... that door was locked!"

"The other guests have begun to arrive," Athos says as D'Artagnan flashes the key they got from one of the housekeepers, "You should start getting ready yourselves."

"Aramis!" She whines, not bothering to move beyond the arm reaching out for him, "Come back, my love."

"Aramis," Athos warns when he steps back toward her.

"Dammit, Athos," She groans. Water sloshes over the sides of the tub when she stands, her body on full display for the four men in front of her, "You're absolutely no fun, you know that?"

She looks at each of them when they stand frozen.

She raises her brows expectantly but they don't move, "Are you all going to just stand there staring, or is someone going to hand me my robe?"

They all move as one, but Aramis gets the robe first, stepping around the tub and holding it up for her.

"Shame on you three," He tuts over his shoulder, "Degenerates, all of you."

"I don't know if I can do this," She says, adjusting her gown. She looks herself over in the mirror, still hiding behind the partition, "I look ridiculous."

She looks beautiful, just like she did before she left home, and that alone terrifies her. The Queen was right, the dress suits her wonderfully, and the jewels adorning her wrists and neck only enhance her image. They're glass, of course, the royals would never let some peasant girl ride off to England with their diamonds and sapphires.

"Surely it can't be that bad," D'Artagnan insists. He steps around the partition and his mouth falls open.

"Well, come on then," Aramis adjusts his cuff as he moves in front of the door, with the other two, "Let's see."

"Fine, just..." She sighs, "No jokes, alright?"

She gathers her skirts and steps past the youngest Musketeer, eyes cast toward the floor as they take her in.

"You look..." Aramis trails off and Athos finishes in his stead.

"Stunning."

"You can say that again," Porthos agrees.

She looks up at her companions with a shy smile.

Aramis moves to stand in front of her, offering his hand with a bow, "My lady."

She takes his arm and looks to her friends, "Is everything in place?"

"Don't you worry about that," Porthos assures her, "Just go out there and steal the show, yeah?"

That fear comes back as they walk toward the ballroom and she hesitates.

What if someone recognizes her?

Aramis pauses when he feels her stop, "What's wrong?"

She can't back down now, she knows that, but her chest tightens with anxiety.

"You have nothing to fear, dear heart," He promises, "There's nothing I couldn't protect you from."

She takes a deep breath and nods before they continue.

They round a corner with their guard in tow, coming to a stop as they enter the ballroom.

Extravagant ballgowns twirl as couples dance together in the center of the room.

"I'll take the left, Porthos the right," Athos says quietly, "You two know your parts, D'Artagnan will keep watch if he tries to run."

With that, the group parts ways and their plan is in motion.

Aramis begins showing her off, boasting her many virtues to whoever will listen as the other two search for the target.

She casts him a wary look when the lady of the house pulls her aside.

"Madam Lablanc, you look- well lovely doesn't seem to cover it," She compliments, "There is someone I wish you to meet!"

She's led to the buffet where various men and women stand and talk amongst themselves.

"This is my niece, Isabel, she's been ever so keen on going to Paris and I was hoping you could tell her what you could?"

"Oh," She glances past the girl to see Athos keeping a close eye on her. He then nods to a tall man by the punch bowl and she sees who they've come to arrest, Monsieur Desiré, "I don't know what I could tell you that you don't already know. I try to avoid the city as much as I can."

"Why is that?"

"Personal preference," She says, "I much prefer the serenity of the country to the noise of crowded streets."

They continue on for a few minutes more, but when Desiré begins to leave, she's quick to end the chatter.

She moves to step past him, purposely tripping over his feet and she's caught by a pair of rough hands.

"Watch it!"

"P-pardon me, monsieur," She stammers, "I get so disoriented in these large parties."

His eyes rake down her body, lingering on her cleavage before sneering at her. She has a feeling that each of her protectors is fighting the urge to swoop in and beat him.

"No," He bows, taking her hand, "The fault is mine, Mademoiselle...?"

"LeBlanc," She forces a smile to her face when he echoes her and kisses her hand.

"Would you perhaps honor me with a dance?" He asks.

"Perhaps," She teases, "My first dance of the night is promised to my husband, but perhaps after Monsieur..."

"Desiré. Husband?"

She winks at him, biting her lip with a grin.

She can feel him ogling her as she walks away and she wants to puke.

The whole meeting distracts her so much that she runs right into the back of another guest.

"Pardon me, Monsie-" Her eyes go wide when he turns and she quickly ducks out of sight behind another group of ladies before he can see her.

She carefully weaves her way through the crowd back to Aramis.

Cäraus. Of course. Of all the people in the world to be at this party, it had to be her younger brother.

"Aramis!" She hisses, latching onto his arm.

"There you are," He places his hand atop hers on his arm, "Where did you run off to?"

"I... ran into Desiré," She explains, "He seems to have an interest."

"Good."

"Then something else happened."

She's much more on edge than before, clinging to him and glancing nervously over her shoulder into the crowd. In fact, he doesn't think he's ever seen her this scared. He squeezes her hand comfortingly, and, while his lax smile doesn't change, his posture does. He seems to stand taller and hold her more protectively, "Tell me."

"Someone- Aramis, I am so sorry, this could ruin everything!" She whimpers, "If I had known there was even a chance, I wouldn't have come."

"It's alright," He cups the back of her neck and gently pulls her close to kiss the top of her head, "Now who is it?"

"My Broth- A friend," She catches herself, "A lover from before I came to Paris."

She doesn't think she's convincing, but it works well enough on Aramis who grits his teeth.

"He's why you came to Paris," It's not a question. He knows she had fled a bad situation and, based on her reaction, this man was the situation she was running from, "Show me him and I'll take care of it."

"What? No, Aramis," She gently touches his cheek, soothing the murder swimming in his eyes, "I came to Paris because of my mother. Dear Cäraus had nothing to do with that."

"Then why-"

"If he identifies me in front of all these people, not only will it ruin the plan, but she'll surely find me again."

And things will never be the same.

He just nods, but that is all confirmation he needs to know for sure, she is nobility. They've all suspected for a while, she never really held herself like a lowborn, as much as she may have tried. Perhaps that suspicion is what made the soldiers feel somewhat responsible for her, at least at the start. There's no question now of their collective fondness for her, and they couldn't imagine a world without her.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know," She admits, "He just can't see me."

He signals to their companions and escorts her just outside the ballroom.

"What is it?" Athos asks.

"A complication," Aramis sighs, "There's a man in there, by name of Cäraus, who knows Amélia's face. If he names her."

The three men share a look and Porthos shakes his head, "I'll take care of it. Show me."

He and Amélia peer around the doorway at the guests.

"That one, with the mid-length black hair tied back with the gold cord and the reddish-brown jacket," She whispers.

"Violent?"

"Goodness no! Cäraus has always been a sweetheart."

"Alright, give me four minutes."

"Porthos!" She catches his hand as he steps away, her eyes pleading with him, "Be gentle? I'd hate to see him truly injured."

"I'll do my best," He smiles, kissing the back of her hand.

She finds herself sighing as she drops her head on Aramis's shoulder, "And here I thought the worst danger I would be in was getting stabbed."

"And if he does name you?" Athos asks.

She turns just enough to smile hopelessly at him, forehead still pressed against her lover's shoulder, "I get dragged back to a life I spent the last three years running from."

"I'd never let that happen," Aramis argues, hugging her tightly.

"Neither would I," Athos assures her, placing his hand on her back.

A warm feeling blossoms in her chest at their affection. She loves her musketeers dearly. She knows she could never deny them should they come looking for her help. They're the family she'd always wanted but never thought she could have. She would fight to her last breath for them without hesitation.

"What did Desiré say?" Athos asks and she straightens.

"Not much, but he seems... enticed," She grimaces, "He expects me to dance with him."

"Like hell you are." Aramis scoffs, strengthening his hold.

"Aramis-"

"No, Athos. I won't let that... that monster lay his hands on her!"

"I can handle Desiré," She assures them, "But first you have to dance with me."

"Dance?"

"Well the idea was to entice him with a bored wife at a party full of strangers, but someone," She grips his chin, "Decided to play the overly affectionate, doting husband. I didn't think he would believe it if I didn't dance with my adoring husband at least once."

"Well then," He offers his hand and leads her to the dancefloor when she takes it.

Athos rolls his eyes. He's almost offended she thinks he wouldn't fit the role of affectionate husband, but he knows he wouldn't have held a candle to Aramis's performance.

Porthos quickly finds the man in the crowd.

"Pardon me, Monsieur, but there seems to be-" He freezes for a moment when the man turns to face him. Those eyes, pale and silver as the moon. He would know those eyes anywhere. They're Amélia's eyes.

"Yes?"

Porthos shakes off his surprise, "There seems to be a problem with your horses. If you would come with me."

"You do know how to dance, don't you?" Aramis asks as he takes her waist, "It would be horribly embarrassing if our mission failed because you have two left feet."

She smacks the back of his head, making him laugh, "Sorry, I'm sure you dance beautifully."

And she does. As soon as the music starts she falls into step as though it were second nature. They glide across the floor effortlessly, her skirts elegantly fanning around her with every turn and twirl.

Her fingers twist in the hair at the back of his neck, looking at him with stars in her eyes.

"I've never seen someone more gorgeous," He murmurs, lifting her off her feet, "To hold you is to hold the heavens themselves in my arms."

"Aramis," She giggles at his flattery as he spins them. She pulls him into a kiss when she finds the ground again.

"You're being watched, my love," She feels his hand tighten on her hip. Another turn and she sees Desiré's gaze locked on her form. Aramis can see the disgust in her eyes and lifts her hand to his lips, "I Hate this plan."

"You're not the one who has to play nice with him," She scoffs, "God help me."

He presses his forehead to hers, "Call my name and I'll come running."

"I know you will," She sighs, eyes falling closed for a moment.

They part when the song comes to an end, but when she goes to seek her mark out, he's nowhere to be found.

"Desiré stepped out onto the terrace," She jumps when Athos speaks behind her.

"Aramis laid it on too thick," She huffs.

"You think? No one in this room thinks you'd ever go off alone with another man."

She thinks for a moment and suddenly takes his hand, "I have a plan, come with me."

She brings him over to the windows, ushering him behind the curtains, out of sight to anyone except whoever may be out on the terrace.

She joins him, their chests pressed together and he looks at her confused.

"What are you doing?"

"Can he see us?"

He glances outside and sees Desiré watching them curiously, "Yes?"

She reaches up to touch his cheek, the other holding the leather lapel of his jacket, "Athos, I need you to kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss me as though you love me, please."

He searches her face for a moment before he gently takes it in his hands and leans in.

The kiss is soft at first, slow and hesitant, as if he's scared they'd both break from it. But then he presses harder, their lips moving together perfectly. One hand moves to cup the back of her head, his tongue sweeping across her bottom lip.

He's surprised when she lets him in, but he doesn't squander the opportunity. He takes his time exploring her, tasting the sweet wine that was served lingering her tongue, drinking in her little moans like they were all that could sustain him.

His other hand pulls her closer by the waist and he feels the hand on his chest grip the back of his neck.

"Athos," She sighs, tugging him close again when he pulls back, and he obliges, kissing her as though he'll never get the chance again.

For a moment he forgets everything. The mission, his own broken past, everything. For one blissful moment, all he knows is her lips against his, the smell of her skin, and the heaving of her chest.

"Athos."

He kisses her again and he feels her smile against his lips.

"Athos."

"Mm! Yes?" He hums, pulling away just enough to lean his forehead on hers, their noses bumping as he stares down at her with a loving gaze.

"Is he still looking?"

"Who, darling?" He pets her hair, cupping her cheek and smiling softly at her. It's as though her kiss has turned him drunk.

It's so rare to see him so content, and she wishes she didn't have to break whatever spell has been cast, but she sees no other choice, "Desiré. Is he still watching?"

Her heart breaks when his affectionate smile disappears and he pulls away, glancing over her shoulder again.

"Yes," His eyebrows furrow as he desperately tries to come up with a new plan that doesn't involve her being alone with him.

"Amélia wait!" He catches her arm when she turns to leave and pulls her back against his lips, catching them both by surprise. She looks at him in shock when they break, "Be safe."

She nods and ducks out onto the terrace, face surely flushed as she fans herself with her hand.

"Oh! Pardon me, Monsieur," She curtsies slightly, pretending to be surprised, "I didn't know anyone was out here."

"Needed some air?"

"Indeed."

"Have you ever been to the estate before, Madam LaBlanc?" He asks after a moment.

"I haven't."

"The gardens here are stunning by moonlight," He continues, sidling up to her and offering his arm, "It would be my pleasure to show you."

She smiles coyly as she takes his arm, "That sounds wonderful."

He leads her through the gardens, her stomach twisting with the path, but she reminds herself Athos and Aramis won't be far behind.

"You're quite an attractive woman," His words pull her from her head.

"Monsieur?"

"It's a shame your musketeer friend won't be able to save you now."

"What-" He slaps her before gripping her cheeks.

"You think we wouldn't notice him sneaking around in the dark?" He spits, "My men took care of him just as the party started."

D'Artagnan.

"And the one you sent off with the prince?" He sneers, squeezing her tighter, "He never saw them coming. Just one left. Your little lover back at the party with your idiot husband."

"I don't-"

"Does he know you're fucking your guard?" He asks, "Do you want him to know?"

She struggles against him when he forces his lips on hers, "Be a good thing for me and stay quiet and I'll keep your dirty little secret."

She gasps when he tears at the front of her dress, glass gems scattering across the ground when he yanks her necklace from her neck.

"You're the second one I've spirited away here and fucked, I think I'm developing a taste for it."

"Not if I can help it," A voice says behind them and she sighs in relief.

Desiré spins around to see Aramis pointing his pistol at him and scoffs at the sight.

"Let the lady go, there's a good man."

He shoves her to the ground behind him and grabs at the barrel of the gun, twisting it out of the musketeer's hand before hitting him with the grip, knocking him unconscious.

"Aramis!" She scrambles past her assailant, falling to her knees beside him, "Aramis please- No!"

Desiré grabs her skirt and drags her back toward him, the sound of ripping fabric filling the air.

"Athos!" She screams, struggling to get away, "Atho-"

His large hand grips her throat, tugging her back awkwardly, "Shut your whore mouth!"

He flips her onto her back and pins her down as he starts to push up her skirts.

"No! Ah- Athos!" She cries again, earning another hard slap.

"That's enough!"

She angles her neck back to see him standing just up the path, pistol in hand, "Athos."

Desiré tenses when a blade appears across his throat, held by Porthos, a second held by D'Artagnan pressing into his back, "Get off the lady."

He lifts himself enough for her Athos to take her hand and pull her to her feet. She clings to him, trembling against his chest.

"You're safe now," He whispers, stroking her hair and kissing her head, "I have you."

"Porthos, arrest him. D'Artagnan, check on Aramis," He orders, "We're leaving in the morning."

He holsters his pistol and lifts her in his arms, murmuring soft reassurances as he carries her back to their rooms.

She holds tight to his arm when he sets her on the bed and he kneels in front of her, keeping himself close if that's what she wants.

"What happened?" She sniffles.

"Aramis went after you and I went to find Porthos," He explains, running his thumb across her knuckles before holding the back of her hand to his lips, "I shouldn't have left his side, I'm so sorry."

When Aramis wakes he does so with a start and goes straight into fight mode as he jumps to his feet.

"Where is she?!" He snaps, swaying with a sudden head rush.

"Athos brought her inside," D'Artagnan is quick to steady his friend, "I'll bring you."

Aramis lets himself lean D'Artagnan as the make their way toward their quarters, "Is she hurt?"

"Maybe a little scraped up," He admits, "But mostly just scared."

"I should have shot him."

They eventually make it to the bedroom to find Athos knelt at her feet as though in prayer as he clutches her hands.

"Aramis!"

Athos lets her pull away, lost without her touch when she runs to him.

He stumbles from D'Artagnan's hold, collapsing against her. He takes her face in his hands, "Your cheek."

A bruise has begun to darken where she had been hit, but her main concern is him.

"You're bleeding," She says, "Sit down."

"I'll kill him," He growls, turning back toward the door."

"No!" She holds him tighter, "Sit down, Aramis."

He does as she says, pulling her into his lap when he sits on the side of the bed.

"I can't do much, confined to your lap," She retorts, but he isn't listening.

His hand hovers just over her cheek, half scared she'll crumble to nothing at his touch, shoulders relaxing when she leans into it, "Just... let me hold you."

"Here," Athos avoids her eyes as he hands her a bowl of water and cloth.

He abruptly leaves with their younger companion as soon as she takes it, leaving the lovers alone.

The sunrise comes faster than any of them expect.

The star finds Amélia and Aramis wrapped in each others arms, both of them still awake and shaken from the previous night's events.

The group readies and reassembles in near silence, each of them yearning to get back to Paris and put this whole debacle behind them.

Desiré had been handed over to the local authorities and would be transported to Paris under full guard later in the week.

She's too tired to ride and it takes little convincing to get her to ride in the coach. Athos opens the door but just as she moves to get in a voice sounds behind them, "Émila?"

She turns to see her brother who looks overjoyed, "It is you!"

He freezes mid-hug when Athos starts to draw his sword, still on edge.

She places her hand on his with a reassuring smile, "It's alright."

The siblings step away and she throws herself into his arms.

"Dear Cäraus," She kisses his cheek, "I've missed you so much!"

"We thought you were dead."

"Please keep it that way," She begs, pulling away from him, "I'm happy here and we both know what will happen if she knows where I am.:

He nods solemnly and she touches his cheek.

"Know that I am happy and well. But please pretend you haven't seen me."

"I love you, dear sister," He murmurs against her hands, "But if you wish to stay with these men, whoever they are, then I am not the one to stop you."

They part with one last lingering hug, knowing they likely will never see each other again.

"Keep the younger ones safe," She whispers as she pulls away, smiling as she rejoins her companions.

"Happy reunion?" Aramis asks, watching him walk away.

"Nothing to get jealous over," She grins up at him as Athos helps her into the coach, "I doubt we'll ever meet again."

"And besides," She leans out the open window to smirk at him, "I have my eyes on someone else."

He rides up beside the coach, beaming as he leans down to cup her cheek.

Athos grits his teeth at the scene in front of him and grips the reins of his horse, before ordering his men to move out.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Helping Hand 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Silence. Excruciating and embarrassing. Here you are, a middle-aged woman, accepting a ride after being as good as stranded at your minimum wage job. How very respectable.

Streetlights flood in through the window and you let your mind flicker with the flashes of yellow. The tension is enough to make you want to throw yourself out of the car. You wring the strap of your bag and tap your thumb on your phone case.

“So, how was your day? Rather long,” he breaks the lull.

“It was… a day,” you answer, certain to keep your eyes out the window.

“Ah, yes,” he shifts his grip on the wheel, “forgive me for presuming overly much of myself, but have I upset you?”

You clear your throat as you mull your response. You should be honest. How long had you held your tongue and suffered? Why do that again? And for another man.

“Why didn’t you tell me who you are?”

“Hmm, yes, I suppose I was duplicitous but I thought maybe you might make the connection. When you didn’t…” he lets the end dangle, “I sort of enjoyed you not knowing. It always changes things.”

“Well, it would. It should. You’re my boss.”

You look down at your lap. This was easier when you were young, when you were ignorant of how little you didn’t know. Now, you’re all too aware of everything you’ve missed out on. Of all the glaring blind spots you have to fill in.

“Maybe,” he allows, “but we get on. Yes, I’m your boss, but it doesn’t have to be strained. You do your job well, neither of us need to worry about that.”

Easy for you to say, you bite down on the retort. You instead untangle your hand from your purse and rub your neck. You’re tired, you don’t have the energy for this. After a long shift, your call with Andy, and missing your bus, you just want to roll into bed and forget it all.

“I hate to pry but you didn’t have anyone to pick you up? A husband perhaps?”

You snort without thinking. You try to disguise it with a cough but it’s obvious. You drop your hand into your lap.

“Divorced. Starting over, if you can’t tell,” you blink at the road ahead. Your own isn’t as well-lit or certain.

“That’s tough. I can’t say I’ve been there,” he says.

“Still married?” You counter.

“Never done,” he turns the wheel slowly, “almost. Once. She didn’t show up at the wedding.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you don’t know what’s worse. The price of a divorce or a wedding without a bride.

“Don’t be. It’s a story to tell. A bullet dodged, I think. I suppose I could be on your end, starting over.”

“You’re right. I definitely have it worse.”

Your phone lights up and you squint at it before blacking the screen. Andy’s all caps message can wait. Along with the rest.

“Urgh, just here,” you point to the brown building before the corner. “Sorry, that’s me.”

He taps the break and steers up along the curb. He hums, “this is… a very interesting neighbourhood.”

“Trust me, I know,” you peek out the window and adjust your purse on your shoulder, “I’ll just get my keys now and run right up. It’s not that late.”

“I’ll stay until I see you make it inside,” he shifts into park, “just to be sure.”

“You really don’t have to–”

“I want to.”

“Alright, thanks. Have a good night, Jonathan.”

“You too,” he grins, “you’ve earned a good night’s sleep.

You smile, sheepish and stiff. You pull the handle and let yourself out of the car. Your hip pangs as you stand but you don’t show the pain. You gently close the door behind you.

You cross the pavement, your keys clutched tight as each step is quicker than the last. You can’t help it. You have a bad feeling. You’ve heard the shouting at night and a few times, the banging in the hall kept you awake.

You shove your key in the hole, cranking it with all your strength as the lock sticks. You sense a shadow behind you and hope it’s just another resident. You jar the door open only to hear a growl.

“About time,” Andy sneers, “I’ve been sitting out here for an hour.”

You face him in surprise. You keep a hand on the door.

“Why?” You ask sharply.

“You hung up on me. You haven’t answered me all day. God, you are just the same childish girl I married.”

“Right, Andrew, exactly, and we are not married anymore. I’m tired, I’m going to bed. I’ll call you when I have time.”

“You have time now,” he insists.

“I don’t,” you rebuff curtly. “How did you even find out where I live?”

He shrugs, “it was on the paperwork.”

You cringe. Of course, lawyers stick together. You can’t trust any of them.

“Not tonight,” you say, “sorry, Andrew.”

You turn and he grabs your arm. You try to free yourself but he’s just as stubborn as he’s always been. You jar your shoulder but only pull it at a bad angle. You cry out and Andy grunts, suddenly releasing you.

You turn and flatten yourself to the front door as you watch the skirmish. You recognise Jonathan as the light above you shines over the conjoined bodies. He has his arm around Andy’s neck, your ex-husband clawing at his sleeve.

Jonathan turns and flings Andy away from him, spinning to place himself between you and your uninvited guest.

“Go. Now. Or I’ll call the police,” Jonathan warns.

“Who the hell are you?” Andy sneers.

“Who are you?” Jonathan counters, his hand open and closing, ready to throw a punch.

“I’m her ex-husband. We’re talking.”

“Ah, ex,” Jonathan chuckles, “so that mean there’s no more talking.”

“Mind your business–”

“My business? I heard her tell you to go. So my business is making certain that’s exactly what you do.”

Andy scoffs and puts his hands on his hips. He juts his jaw out and looks at the man in front of him, then leans over to glare at you. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“You moved on fast,” he accuses.

You swallow. You won’t argue with him. “Good night, Andrew.”

“Yes, good night, Andrew,” Jonathan opens his hand and gestures towards the sidewalk.

Andy curls his lips and throws up his arms. He grumbles and turns on his heel, stomping off as you stand in another mortified silence. You swear, this man has been sent to see you at every low.

“Uh, thanks,” you utter, “and I’m sorry–”

“None of that is needed,” he turns to you, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m an adult. I’m fine.”

“Yes, you are a strong woman. I’m sure you didn’t need me here but I am happy I was,” he tidies his silk tie, “and now I shall leave you to your peace. It seems you don't get much of it.”

He nods his head and pivots on his sole. You deflate as you watch him go. It might just be worth it to quit to save what’s left of your pride.

[liaromancewriter]

A True Prince

Premise: Ethan brings Cassie coffee, aka the fairy tale comes true.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: General. Fluff. Words: 640

A/N: I caught up this morning on the replies/comments to A True Fairytale edit. And it ended up inspiring this short fic. I wrote it quite fast before starting work, so please excuse any errors.

Submission for @choices-november2022 Day 19, “Appreciate the moment”

Ethan Ramsey walked into Derry Coffee Roasters with the self-assurance of someone who knew exactly what they wanted. He looked neither left nor right, just took his place in line, head down as he scrolled through emails on his phone.

He smiled when a notification appeared at the top of his screen. His response was almost Pavlovian as he clicked on the banner to switch to Pictagram. It had been like that from the start, ever since he’d turned on notifications for Cassie’s posts and comments.

Emails forgotten, he scrolled down the feed to read her latest reply to Bryce and chuckled at Varma’s comment. It was a good thing Max and Sienna didn’t live in Boston. He suspected he’d see even less of his wife then.

Ethan knew Cassie was happy about their relationship, but she missed having Sienna in Boston. He remembered her saying she and Max had always lived near each other until she moved to Boston. It had taken her time to adjust, with Sienna filling the gap. And now both her best friends lived in a different city.

As he reread her caption, he thought that something about Cassie brought out the troll in him. He couldn’t help needling her and found himself publicly replying to her post, laughing inside when he imagined her face pouting as she read it.

Little did she know that he was already getting her coffee. After a long morning in the community clinic, he only wanted fresh air and a chance to decompress. He’d thought to take a walk around the park close by. But when he saw Cassie’s post, he detoured to Derry’s.

The customer ahead of him moved away, and Ethan stepped up to the counter.

“Hi, Dr. Ramsey.” The barista smiled, having known him for a couple of years now. “This isn’t your usual time.”

“Special occasion, Kara,” he replied.

“Your usual?”

Ethan started to say yes, but then a thought occurred to him. “Let’s switch it up today. A Cortado for me and a flat white for Cassie, extra foam.”

“Chocolate caramel cupcake?” Kara asked as she rang up his order, well aware of his wife’s addictions.

“You know us too well,” Ethan nodded and took his wallet out to pay.

The door behind him swung open with a rush of air, and he glanced over his shoulder. His blue eyes locked with hers, and he thought he saw a hint of surprise in Cassie’s green eyes. Then she threw him a wink, a teasing grin hovering on her lips as she walked over to his side.

He finished paying for his order, inwardly groaning when he saw the dreamy look on Kara’s face. He took Cassie’s hand in his, and they moved down to the bar to wait for their drinks.

“You really are my prince!” Cassie exclaimed when the barista handed her the cupcake.

Cassie circled her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss his jaw.

Ethan rolled his eyes dramatically, but his smile gave him away. “Your wish is my command.”

Cassie laughed. “That’s a genie, Ethan.”

“As you wish?” He quirked one eyebrow.

“Westley from Princess Bride,” she said, shaking her head in amused exasperation.

“Ah well,” he shrugged. “I never claimed to be a prince anyway.”

“And yet, here we are,” she said softly.

They grabbed their drinks and walked over to the high back armchairs in the corner. Cassie waited for Ethan to sit, then she plopped down on his lap, her legs hanging over the side of the chair.

“You might not be a prince, Dr. Ramsey,” Cassie said, brushing her hand down the side of his face. “But you are mine, and I am yours. So let’s appreciate the moment.”

And for the next half hour, work and emails were forgotten as they did just that.

---------------------

All Fics & Edits: @a-crepusculo @annfg8 @bex-la-get @bluebelle08 @cariantha @choicesaddict5 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @mysticalgalaxysstuff @openheartforeverinmyheart @peonierose @takemyopenheart @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin​ @rosebudde​ @trappedinfanfiction​ @vi-writes-stuff​ @zahrachoices​

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations​ @openheartfanfics​

Ethan & Cassie only: @custaroonie​ @lady-calypso​ @hopelessromantic1352​

[rom-e-o]

“Begin Again” next chapter preview!

Ethel reached up to touch his shoulder. “Now, now, Mr. Scrooge. None of that. ‘Tis not necessary.”

The woman acted so sweet, but he remembered from his night with the spirits that she had held him in contempt. Rightfully so, he thought, after the abysmal way he’d treated Bob. Whether she felt genuine sadness or merely didn’t want to converse about the topic, he was not aware. He also knew his opinion hardly mattered.

“Apologies,” he said, trying to clear emotion from his throat.

Sensing that they were on the cusp of a more emotional discussion that neither was prepared for, she swiftly changed the subject.

“So, is Miss DoGoode well?” she asked. “I hope the poor dear is adjusting.”

“Yes, I believe so,” he said. Then, he paused. “I hope so. I don’t dare speak for her, but…I’m happy to see that she’s come out of her shell a little bit.”

“Is she, really?” the woman asked, then swabbed her brow thankfully. “Good. Poor thing was like a chipmunk in a pond of frogs. So out of her element, trembling, scared.”

A sadly humorous, yet equally accurate, image coalesced in his mind. The corner of his mouth perked up at the thought. “She’s been a delightful guest, and a wonderful clerk as well. It’s been nothing but a pleasure getting to know her.”

Ethel nodded, humming vaguely. Another beat of silence passed before she spoke again, her voice lower this time.

“I know the last time we were here, you and she appeared…close.”

There was a teasing lilt to her voice that Ebenezer couldn’t ignore.

“I…suppose,” he answered vaguely. He avoided eye contact, as his treacherous face blushed very easily at the mere mention of the woman’s name. Ethel observed this shift in hue with great pleasure, a wide grin blooming across her peach-shaped face.

“Oh, good gracious! You’re smitten, sir. I know that look!

“I-I am most certainly—”

“I say, does she know?”

“No, not yet—I mean, there is nothing to know!”

While Scrooge floundered for and response that would temper her reaction, the woman was beside herself with absolute joy. 

“Gracious me! Why, I didn’t think it was possible. You, Ebenezer Scrooge, not only have a heart, but a beating one! A red-blooded one, if I may be so bold!”

“E-Ethel, please,” he groaned, bringing a hand to his temples to massage them on tight circles.

“Oh, this is tasty gossip, indeed!” she said clapping her hands excitedly. “Oh, and no fear, dearie. I won’t tell a soul.”

“Really?” he asked, accepting defeat in a tone that bordered on simpering. “Not even Bob?”

“Well…”

“Ethel.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” she said with a laugh. “I just…think my husband might already know.”

Scrooge blinked.

“He might know? How is that possible?” Hell, he hadn’t even realized it himself until a few hours ago.

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Where There’s a Whill, There’s a Windu

Context: original post, chrono

(Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka) and have been officially adopted by Anakin.)

----------------------

“You’re attached.”

“You’re just now noticing?”

Master Windu eyes him for a few long moments, and then joins him on the ground. Anakin can’t help but smirk. There’s something gratifying about having respect from the man, in this life.

“The other members of the council are concerned.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I am, but for other reasons,” Windu says.

Anakin doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t even respond for a long minute. He just looks out over the Room of a Thousand Fountains, spread out below them like hundreds of jungles pieced together in a jigsaw of flora. It’s been his favorite room in the Temple since he was a child, and it’s always overwhelming.

“Most of them have accepted that you adopted them because of Mandalorian customs, and that you stayed where you were due to the will of the Force,” Windu continues. “But they are… uncomfortable with how blatantly your attachments show.”

“Mandalorians are loud and refuse shame. It rubbed off.”

“You said you would kill for these children.”

“I’m their father. That’s kind of expected.”

Windu’s expression is tired. A little tired of stress, but mostly tired of Anakin’s shit. “You know what I’m trying to get at.”

“Do I?”

“Skywalker.”

“No, I’m serious. I need you to spell this out. I’ve had a million slightly-contradicting lectures on this topic, and I’ve been told pretty clearly that I misinterpreted a solid half of them. If you want a constructive conversation, you can’t be vague. I’m thirty-three years old and a father of two, Master Windu, so yes, I’m attached. What you mean by that word is going to change where this conversation goes.”

It’s gratifying to see the Master actually think it over.

“Ylliben’s tattoos have been causing the most recent stir,” Windu finally says. “They nearly all relate to family, whether new or old, and the symbolism is concerning to those who are already upset about the Mandalorian upbringing. They worry that he’ll remain too tied to people he grew up with, and unable to maintain neutrality in future diplomatic ventures, or at risk of a fall if one of the people he’s seen fit to memorialize is injured or killed. The assume a similar state of mind may be applicable to your daughter and yourself, especially given the off-color jokes about how possessive your children are about each other.”

“They’re worried about emotional immaturity,” Anakin summarizes. He offers a wan, unimpressed grin. “They do realize he’s fourteen, right? Nobody’s emotionally stable at fourteen. The hormones are out of whack.”

“I’m aware,” Windu grinds out. “And I’m aware that your histories, of war and all such things, make your ties much stronger, but you can see why the Council worries, especially those who are wary of the memories your children carry but won’t explain. I’m the only one you’ve told, Skywalker.”

“Plo and Depa know.”

“Plo and Depa aren’t on the council.”

“Yet.”

“Skywalker.”

He relents. “It’s not about Mandalore, Master Windu. It’s about Tatooine.”

Windu lets that sit for a few moments, and then sighs. “I don’t know enough about Tatooine to parse that.”

“Shmi and I are former slaves,” Anakin says, as bluntly as he can. “I was freed at nine, she at eleven, and for all that we are free, we’re not freeborn. We were born slaves, and raised slaves, and we were freed too late to forget that life. The way we think is always going to be affected by the way we grew up. That applies to all sentients, more or less, but it’s… the slave mentality is completely at odds with Jedi teachings, because Jedi teachings can only be taught in a safe environment.”

Windu nods slowly, and says, “That does make sense, but it’s… forgive me, but that’s why we don’t normally take children older than four.”

“From the perspective of teaching cultural values, that makes sense,” Anakin allows. “Teaching a Jedi child that’s cared for with communal resources that they do not need material things to be happy is fine; trying to convince a slave child of the same, someone who grew up being told they do not deserve material things, and that their owner can take anything at any time, including family? I lived that life, trying to adjust to ascetic Jedi values that coincided poorly with slave rules. I know exactly how poorly that transition can go when the person caring for the child doesn’t know how to handle the points of conflict.”

“Do you regret joining the Jedi?” Windu asks.

Anakin shakes his head. “My Jedi master, bless him, cared, and tried very hard, but he wasn’t ready to handle a kid like me and in hindsight, I know that. He needed grief counseling, and I needed therapy, and neither of us was getting it. I don’t… I don’t believe anyone in the Temple would have known how to handle a kid like me.”

“But you don’t regret it.”

“I was meant to be a Jedi,” Anakin says, as firmly as he can without getting unnecessarily bitchy about it. “My struggles with the Code aside, I was meant to be here. But the Temple doesn’t have any resources for children who come older, and I think… I think you do need that.”

“You just outlined why a child can’t follow the Code if they come from a different enough background,” Windu says.

Anakin shakes his head. “No, that’s not—I think a kid like me can learn to be a Jedi, if a little unconventional, if they’re taught correctly. The desperation to cling to anyone and anything you have can be unlearned. It takes time and effort, but it’s possible. Soka and Ben are good at balancing Tatooine care with Jedi control. If you talk to Ben, you get an entire philosophical breakdown about it, but I’m more concerned with the child psychology, because that’s what could have broken me.”

Windu frowns. “You’re building up to something.”

“I think the Jedi need programs for children found older who can’t become full Jedi,” Anakin asserts. “Even those who cannot reconcile what they absorbed growing up with the Code and Jedi tradition… they, we, need guidance. The Council tried to reject me for being too old, and now that I’m grown I understand why, but… Master Windu, what do you think would have happened to me if I hadn’t had my Master to fight for me, and had been turned away?”

“We’d have looked into placing you back with your mother and, upon finding out that she was still enslaved, secured her freedom,” Master Windu says. “Qui-Gon Jinn had taken responsibility for you, and thus you were a ward of the Temple until such a time as you were safe again. It would have been cruel to keep you from your mother if we were not to raise you a Jedi, and crueler still to allow you to return to slavery.”

“And you think I’d have been safe with her?” Anakin asks. He needs Master Windu to understand this. “You think that would have ended well?”

“You don’t?”

“Ventress,” Anakin says. “Maul. Aurra Sing, even.”

Windu considers that. He looks across the grand, green room of the garden, and finally speaks. “You think you’d have been found and corrupted by a Sith.”

“I’d already helped Naboo win a battle. I was a powerful child with no support system in this respect, eager to please,” Anakin says. “Ventress and Maul both got twisted into Sith Apprentices. Aurra Sing was just a bounty hunter, but… even if the Jedi had never found me, and the Sith remained unaware, do you think I’d have ended up better than Sing? Or would the pressures of slavery have led to my Fall anyway, eventually slaughtering my owner, the Hutts, the entire system of Tatooine’s hells?”

Windu rubs a hand over his forehead. “I understand what you’re getting at.”

“It’s not just me,” Anakin says, as carefully as he can. “Even without the Sith, there are plenty of Force-Sensitive children in terrible situations that are liable to Fall just because of how power is wielded by those at the bottom. Refusing to take on students who are already at risk… the Jedi are meant to monitor Force users to prevent Sith and other dark-aligned people from harming the galaxy. It’s one of our primary duties. If the Jedi are allowing darksiders to rise just because of an age limit…”

“I get it,” Windu says, just a little aggressive. “I understand. Give me a minute.”

Anakin tries to wait. He’s older now, he can do that. He can be patient.

He tries to convince himself that it’s true.

“You have a point,” Master Windu finally allows. “And with the knowledge that the Sith are out there, still, it’s a more salient point than most would think. The EduCorps already has a subdivision for teaching meditative techniques to low-level force users who need to learn shielding but aren’t sensitive enough to be Jedi, or are just too old, but I see your point about encouraging a program for powerful Force-Sensitives that aren’t discovered early enough to integrate into the community in full.”

“And a more comprehensive Search pattern for the Outer Rim?” Anakin suggests. He shrugs at the look he gets. “What? You’ve seen my midicount. I was on Tatooine for almost a decade, and the only reason anyone found me was that Qui-Gon had to crash a ship in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure the Force led him to me, given all the coincidences, but that’s still a solid nine years that nobody did, despite how I apparently ‘shine like the sun’ or whatever.”

“Humble.”

“The last time I took a midichlorian test on a portable counter, it literally broke the device. That’s not arrogance, that’s just absurd.”

Windu looks exhausted by the comment. Anakin can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it.

“What about Jedha?” Anakin suggests instead. “Jedi find the kids, but if they’re too old to be Jedi, we could coordinate with one of the temples at Jedha to see about having them raised in the traditions of the Whills? They’re a little less orthodox, aren’t they?”

“In some respects,” Master Windu says. “More constrained in others, but… it’s a possibility. Most of the overlooked children, yourself included, are from parts of the Outer Rim that aren’t part of the Republic, Skywalker.”

Anakin shrugs. “And many of them would have been happy to be found and collected by a Jedi, even if they couldn’t become Jedi. Not the Dathomiri, since they’ve got their own thing going on, but… from what I know about Ventress, she actually did have a Jedi Master before the situation on Rattatak became… what’s the word… untenable? He died and she was left alone, and she’d been a slave already and it just… did not end well for her. But that was a planet overrun by pirates and warlords, and would have been approved as a planet the Jedi could help without it being a weird colonialism thing… if the Senate weren’t made up of cheapskates, at least.”

“Skywalker.”

“My name isn’t actually a reprimand, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to just say that,” Windu groans, running a hand over his face. “The Senate’s choice in funding is not optimal, but insulting them in that way, even in private—”

“They’re assholes,” Anakin says, and doesn’t let his humor show. “Except my late wife, but she’s not part of the Senate in this time, so I feel no shame in accusing the entire shitshow of being cheapskates.”

Windu looks about ready to push him off the ledge.

“You’re never allowed to go on diplomatic missions, are you?” Windu mutters.

“Unless it’s to Mandalore,” Anakin clarifies. “Also, never send me to Tatooine. Ever. Please. I kriffing hate that planet.”

“I’m going to assume you have plans to kill a Hutt if we ever send you to—”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Windu sighs. “I’ll discuss this with the Council, see how they feel about reaching out to Jedha for your suggestion regarding the Whills.”

“And you’ll tell them not to worry about my kids?”

“Skywalker, they are never going to stop worrying about your family,” Windu tells him.

“That’s fair.”

[thefanficmonster]

Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends. 

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well. 

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“ 

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“ 

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling. 

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in. 

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either. 

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @slashersdream  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01

[lubdubsworld]

Blackberry Winters.

Part 1

Check part one for warnings 💔

Part 2.

Namjoon stared at his mother, her words registering but not quite sinking in. He blinked, a couple of times and swallowed dryly, trying to gather his wits that felt like they'd been scattered to the four winds. There was a dull ringing in his ear, a feeling of impending horror and he had to fight to bring himself back to the present.

"She is...?" He couldn't even say it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised the irony of it. It wasn't supposed to makes him feel that way. The reason he had taken her to bed was for this : a heir to take over the duties of the head alpha after him. And yet, he knew that he couldn't just ignore all the things that would come with having a pregnant mate. All the added responsibility.

At the heart of it , Namjoon was exhausted.

He had been trained for this position but it didn't make it any easier. His wolf yearned for solitude and serenity, peaceful quiet where he could contemplate life and all its mysteries but the duties and responsibilities kept piling up. He had no time to indulge in such whimsical fantasies. From daybreak to sundown, he drowned in problems that demanded solutions, issues that required his intervention and he was always giving so much of himself to so many.

It was as taking a toll.

And now here was the promise of another new soul. A pup. Fully dependant on him for survival. It was hard to be ecstatic.

" Why do you look so surprised? Have you not been sleeping with her?" She frowned, moving closer to the small wooden bench in the corner of the room. She sat down, primly adjusting the large swathes of her skirt. Even at her age, she was a beauty and despite being a widow, she was treated with great respect by all the wolves in the clan.

" I have... Of course...I just didn't expect her to ...so soon. " He muttered hesitantly. He made a quick calculation, Conceived at the end of autumn meant the child would be born at the end of summer. Rains and more rains. He would have to commission the weavers to make a lot of warm blankets and thick bedding for the babe. And make sure that all the birthing huts had their roofs mended. He felt an ache in his chest. He knew he had to have a heir. It was part of what he was responsible for. But he wasn't ready to be a father yet. Especially not with someone like her.

" You haven't been very subtle in your disdain for her, Joon. It makes me wonder of perhaps I have failed in teaching you the ways of a husband." His mother's sharp voice made him wince.

His parents had been deeply in love with each other. His mother had been an equal contributor in running the clan, his father's most trusted confidante. He couldn't imagine having something like that with the woman he had rather recklessly chained himself to for life. But he couldn't be openly defiant in front of his mother.

So he bowed.

" I've tried to talk to her mother. She looks at me like I'm some marauding villain."

Lady Kim scoffed.

" Because, for all she knows, you may as well be one. Think of who she is, how she was raised. Her mother died when she was eight and she has been keeping house for her father since then. It Is a miracle she knows how to read a few words and to write her own name. Old man Gong is unkind and cruel and I've only ever watched him treat her like an unruly dog that needed discipline and never like his own flesh and blood. She knows men to be cruel and powerful and capable of doing her great harm. Add to it your status as the head of the clan, of course she thinks you're dangerous. "

" am I to be blamed for her childhood now?"

" Don't be obtuse. That is not what I'm saying. I just want you to consider her upbringing, before you write her off as dramatic or hysterical. "

Namjoon sighed deeply.

" Alright, mother. I'll try to talk to her again. "

And he knew that he had to. If he wanted some semblance of peace in his life, he would have to make an effort with his wife.

----------------------------

Jiah sat by the haybale near the barn, cross-legged on the dirty floor as she watched Misu and Loshim, two of the stable boys tend to the horses. She stared at the careful way they brushed the large beasts, their tone gentle and soothing as they murmured reassurance to the agitated animals. She found it fascinating, how even an animal that powerful could feel fear and anxiety. It made her feel better about her own shortcomings.

From a very young age, she had known of her flaws. She was jittery, prone to cold sweats and breathing problems, easily frightened and absolutely terrified of confrontation of any kind. Her parents had been, to put it lightly, unkind. They had seen her as a burden, as something broken and useless and cumbersome and that had done nothing for her self esteem.

To make matters worse, they didn't let her attend lessons with the other omega girls, her education limited to scribbled writing on granite with chalk when her father was feeling bored or charitable. She could read a few words with difficulty . Could write her name out if you gave her some time and patience.

At first, her ignorance had been embarassing but over time she realised her education wouldn't serve her much purpose.

She thought of herself as something temporary and fleeting. Not meant to leave any lasting impression on the world. So it was alright if she didn't know what every other girl her age did. She was going to live and die in that hut near the boundary walls..... She would have no use for fancy words or exotic dances.

Or so she hd always believed.

So when the head alpha had asked for her hand in marriage, she had nearly passed out from her heart giving out.

Namjoon was seven years older, almost thirty winters old and she had only ever caught glimpses of him when he came to check on her father's watchpost occasionally. He was a tall man, strapping and intimidating with dragon eyes that glowed red. And one evening he had stopped by her side when she had been tending the beets and potatoes in the small vegetable garden out back.

He had stared at her for a few long minutes while she had sweated in nervousness and then he had promptly asked for her father. When the man had Stepped in and told her father that he was looking to make her his bride, the old man had been jubilant while Jiah had been confounded.

She hadn't wanted to say yes but she had been too much of a coward to say no. Besides, she didn't know if saying no would have any repurcussions....she didn't want to risk offending the literal head of the entire clan. What if they banished her? What would become of her then?

And so she had said yes. And here she was.

Mated to the man for life, her wolf connected to his and his mark on her neck and now....his child in her womb.

She felt the familiar stirring of panic, digging her nails into her palm to ground herself .

Jiah had long come to terms with the fact that her mind was not her friend. It sometimes tried to attack her , tried to make her feel irrational things. It convinced her that she was a bother, that she was useless, that she was a burden. It also tried to tell her that she was in danger, that she had to run and avoid and get away, even when she was perfectly safe.

When she had first come here as the head Alphas new wife, her brain had wrecked havoc on her senses. Had made her feel like a hunted animal, always cowering and hiding and trying to disappear . Namjoon had tried to be friendly, tried to be courteous and all she had done was hide and recoil, skin ice cold and words practically non existent. She hadn't said a word to him those first few days and even the bedding had been a nightmare, her entire body stiff as a board and she knew that he had probably felt like he was making love to a corpse.

She regretted it. Deeply. But there was not much she could do about it now. Besides she wasn't sure she even wanted to. It was obvious her husband's affections lay elsewhere. She had seen the way he looked at that courtesan. Had seen him sneak out for walks with her, had seen them huddled together in the room with all the scrolls and leather bound books.

Jisoo was a beautiful omega, well read and trained in musical arts. She played the gayageum and the flute, knew how to entertain guests with a perfect ceremonial dance and she was always at the helm of every festivity, dressed in vibrant fabrics and full of life.

She was also madly in love with Namjoon.

Jiah sighed, watching the horses paw at the dirty stable floor. She wanted to get to know her husband, yes. But she knew that even if she did, he would only find her wanting and inadequate in all ways.

And that was just not acceptable .

She maybe self aware when it came to her short comings but she also had her pride.

She would rather live like this. Tucked away like an embarassment, hidden like a dirty secret because then there would be no piercing gaze weighing her against her peers and declaring her broken.

Yes.

Pregnant or not, she wanted nothing to do with her husband.

------------------------

" Are you feeling well now?" Namjoon's voice startled her, eyes going wide as she looked around the resting quarters , gaze finally falling on the man standing near the large table on the side. Namjoon was bent over the rough oak surface , papers spread out in front of him, an oil lamp burning bright nearby, casting a sepia shadow on the man himself and she hesitated, debating the pros and cons of excusing herself to go see his mother instead. Maybe claiming a headache?

In the end she did neither, resolving to at least make an effort with this.

" I'm well, alpha. " She swallowed the lump in her throat. " I'm sorry for inconveniencing you. "

He straightened, turning around to look at her finally.

" Do you wish to move into another room?" He said briskly and she startled.

" Another room?"

" Now that you are with pup, there's no reason for us to keep sleeping together. I prefer having my own space. "

Jiah felt the blood rush through her ears. This shouldn't hurt but it did and she could feel the self loathing flood her senses. She stared down at herself, the lack of beauty and the utter lack of any kind of elegant upbringing. Of course he didn't want to stay with her any longer. What had she been thinking , agreeing to this farce of a mating?

" I... Alright. "

Namjoon turned away from her.

" Good. I've already arranged for all your things to be moved to the west wing , next to the gardens."

Far away from his rooms, Jiah thought bitterly. The sudden realization that Namjoon had been looking for some sort of brood mare and not a mate hit her . And it suddenly made sense that he hd picked her.

Someone easy to boss around.

Someone who wouldn't demand anything from him, loyalty or affection or attention .

And it irked her for some reason.

Why did he get to treat her that way? Why must she put up with it?

But she stayed quiet because she wasn't sure what to say.

" You can leave now, Jiah. " He said dismissively and she hesitated before stepping out of the room.

And she wondered if with her departure, someone else would be taking her place in his bed.

-----------------------------

Authors Note : would you guys like first person narrative or should I continue in third person? 👀

[nat-20s]

for @jonmartinweek THE FINAL DAY prompt- Pining/Longing. This one takes place, well, you’ll see

~*~

A Study of Longing, Told in Six Parts

Part 1

Martin wonders if he’ll ever get to a point in his life where kindness doesn’t feel like a shock to the system. It’s already surprising enough when Tim and Sasha invite him for drinks in a genuine offer of friendship, but for that kindness to come from Jon? Martin has no idea what to do with being believed, let alone being protected.

And now here he is, blearily opening his eyes only to find himself staring at a mass of hair. As he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, the shape resolves into the form of one Jonathan Sims. He had apparently fallen asleep with his head cushioned on his arms, against the cot Martin was currently occupying. It’s not an image that Martin can fully process at the moment, so instead he debates whether or not to wake Jon up or quietly get off the cot to let him get some much needed sleep. He decides on the former, both thinking that it would be hell on his back to keep sleeping in that position, and that he would like an explanation.

Hand hovering above Jon’s shoulder, but not fully touching, Martin oh so quietly calls out, “Jon?”

That’s all it takes for Jon’s head to rush up with a gasp, glasses askew, and with the texture of his sleeves pressed in red marks on his face. It is a horribly endearing look. “Hrn?”

Martin opens his mouths, closes it, and waits for Jon to get his bearings. Jon smooths down his (frankly ridiculous) sweater-vest, adjusts his glasses, and slips back on his professional demeanor. “My apologies, Martin, I, ah, must have fallen asleep.”

Glancing to the crappy little digital clock resting on a file box next to him, Martin rolls his eyes. Only Jon could be quite so stuffy at 4:32 in the morning. “No apologies needed. Though, um, was there? Something you needed or..?”

Jon shakes his head and stands up, dusting off imaginary grime. “No, no, nothing like that. I had just, er. I had heard you cry out and I- I wanted to make sure nothing was going on. It appears that it simply a nightmare,so I will be.. taking my leave. Now.”

He doesn’t know what part of himself replies, “Oh! You don’t have to go!,” but he replies it anyway. Jon does that little thoughtful frown at him, which forces him to continue, “I mean, if you wanted the cot. For sleeping. I’ll probably be awake for the rest of the night, so, you know, no skin off my back .”

“Ah. No, that’s quite alright, Martin. Try to get some more sleep, there’s still a long work day ahead.”

Jon doesn’t even wait for a response before turning on his heel and leaving. Martin sort of hates how much he wanted him to stay.

Part 2

Jon is laughing. Jon is terrified, all the damn time, and yet, somehow, he’s laughing. Honestly, he was starting to wonder if he was still capable of it. Martin is gesticulating wildly with his fork, animated in a way that Jon’s only ever seen when in they’re in the middle of a rather silly debate. He thinks this lunch’s topic was something like whether or not snakes were cute? He lost the thread of conversation about half an hour ago, honestly. Covering his mouth, he lets the giggles run through his whole body, shaking his shoulders and heating his core. He feels light, heady, like he’s reminiscing with an old friend and they’re both on the edge of having had too much to drink.

He only wishes he could trust this feeling. He wishes that he could trust Martin, that they were normal coworkers having a normal lunch, that the previous person in Jon’s position had gone into an easy retirement instead of being violently murdered. He wishes he hadn’t read that letter telling him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Martin, Martin, who took him to lunch and brought him tea and seemed so very warm in so very cold circumstances, was lying to him.

Jon stops laughing.

Part 3

Of course, the second his body hits the simultaneously stiff and weirdly lumpy motel mattress, his phone goes off. It may only be about 8 pm, but he’s tired, and he’s sore, and he’s had a persistent headcold for the past week for some unholy reason, the last thing he wants to do is talk. However, only about four people have the number to the burner cell, and they’re almost certainly have a purpose behind their call.

Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh that turns into more of a groan, he picks up on the 4th ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jon! It’s Martin, I’m not sure if you have my number programmed in that phone, or if it even has caller ID if you do. Anyway, it’s been about a week since I’ve heard anything, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t, y’know, dead or arrested or anything.”

His previously tense and aching muscles all relax, without him consciously deciding to relax them, and a sleepy smile spreads across his face, because some time in the past year he’s become a parody of himself. Yes, maybe he should be more affronted by how much Martin’s tinny voice brings him comfort, but he’s had a rather terrible time of things since...since he began work in the archives, really, and he’s worn down enough that he can admit he misses his friend.

Huh. Friends. They are, aren’t they? Wonder when that happened. (He can guess, something involving a fake CV admission, but he doesn’t feel like it right now.) “Martin, I recognize your voice, no need to introduce yourself.”

“Right! Yes, uh, ‘course..of course you can. Right. Sooo...I take it you’re not dead, then.”

“Correct. I haven’t been arrested, either.” It’s only sort of a comforting lie, so Jon thinks it can be forgiven.

“Good. Great! Yeah, that’s...that’s good.”

The conversation could probably end there. Jon could probably tell Martin good night, and they’d hang up, and Jon could get the sleep he had been so desperately craving not moments ago. Somehow, he thinks that neither of them want that. Scrambling for something to talk about, Jon replies, “Hang on, isn’t it something like 2am over there?”

“It...might be.”

“Martin!”

“What! It’s not like you have a monopoly on bad sleeping habits. Besides, I was up anyway, and I just..”

“Just what?”

“I just missed your voice.”

Oh. Heat rushes to his cheeks, and tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, and god. He had missed Martin’s voice too. “Really? I know you’ve had to listen to a fair number of tapes lately, thought you might be sick of it by now.”

“No. I mean, I am a bit tired of tapes, honestly, but even the ones that you recorded, that not really your voice, is it? I mean it is, but it doesn’t sound like you when you’re actually, um, you. I wanted..I wanted to hear you.”

Jon’s far too worn out to deal with that sentiment, and the way that it makes his heart clench. So instead  of addressing it, he says, “I am very close to being asleep.”

“Oh. Right, sorry, I’ll let you go-”

“No! No. Um. Would you mind staying on the line? Until I’m gone? I-I like hearing your voice. As well.”

“Oh! Sure, yeah, definitely. Anything in particular you want me to talk about?”

“Whatever you like. Something nice?”

“All right. I can do that. Um. Did I tell you about this little yarn shop I found the other day. It’s called ‘Puttin’ on the knitz’, and it’s…”

Jon peacefully drifts off, listening to the voice of the man who he can only admit in moments such as these, he wishes was in this bed, laying beside him.

Part 4

please come back please come back for the love of god come back I can’t believe you’re doing this do you have any idea how stupid this is come back to me come back come back come back

Part 5

There is plenty of things to long for in the apocalypse. A decent cuppa. The relief of actual sleep. Murdering Jonah Magnus. For there not to be a apocalypse. They are grateful, however, to not have to long for each other.

Part 6

Martin comes to without a knife in his hand, or bloodstains on his clothing. Those, under other circumstances, would be good things.

Martin comes to, laying in the grass, without anyone beside him. He barely has the moment to feel agony spike through him before he’s out once more.

There are no Jonathan Sims admitted to the hospital. As far as he can tell, no one was admitted into the hospital at the same time as him, and certainly no one with a stab wound.

There are thousands of ‘Jonathan Sims UK’, typed desperately into a library computer search bar, wielding mostly results about a sport manager and a romance novelist. None of the images are of the right person.

Sometimes Martin puts one foot in front of the other, carefully blank in heart and head. Surviving, even  during times that he’s not sure he wants to, is one of his greatest abilities.

Sometimes Martin despairs.

On the worst nights, he tries to call the Lonely back to him, tries to be swallowed whole. It never works. He’s not sure if it’s because the fears aren’t in the reality or if they’re not established enough to have any leverage or if his connection has simply been broken. (He doubts the last reason. He hasn’t been this alone since Tim’s funeral. Even then, Melanie had thrown a few stilted condolences towards him. No one is aware enough of him to give condolences now. He misses Melanie. He misses all of them. He misses Jon like a gaping, bleeding wound misses skin.)

Seven months later, and he has enough money saved and identity built that he moves on to Scotland. The little village they had been adjacent to exists in this reality. Daisy’s cottage does not.

On a whim, he enters the yarn shop. He’s not going to pick anything up, hobbies are the last thing he can focus on, but it’s nice to look. To feel the various textures, to take in the rich variance of colors, to, hopefully be present in his own body, if only for a moment.

Martin steps in. The bell chimes. He’s there. Standing in front of him. Whole. In a cry that’s closer to a gasp, he calls out, “JON!”

Jon turns, looks up at him, recognizes him even before he’s even fully seen him. It’s his Jon, he’s here he’s here he’s here. The callback of “MARTIN!” sounds like it was punched out of him, the start of a sob and a laugh all at once.

In a blink, they’re together, their embrace a tangle of limbs, a collision of lips, a mixture of tears. Martin can’t tell which of them is saying the litany of “thank god thank god thank god” and who’s repeating “it’s you it’s you it’s you.”

It’s Jon that’s telling him, “I knew you had to be here. I knew it, because I kept thinking. Surely. Surely this new universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow me to live, but to make me live without you.”

It’s Martin that replies, “I didn’t know. I thought it would be that cruel. Please don’t make me go through that again.”

Jon pulls him in tighter, eliminating the centimeter of space between them. Speaking into Martin’s neck, whispered in fierce devotion, Jon promises, “Never again. Never again. You and me. Together. For the rest of our lives.”

Barely discernible through his sobbing, Martin tells him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~*~

There are people that think that wanting is more worthwhile than having. Martin thinks, frankly, that those people have never been in love.

[theweasleysredhair]

Secret’s Out [O.W.]

Character: Oliver Wood

Word Count: 1308

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Oliver Wood might just be in love with the Slytherin Quidditch Captain.

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @valwritesx @hufflrpuffforfred @cappsikle @kiwi-sloan @potter-redheads @pigwidgexn @twinkyjohnson @sarcasticallywitty15 @tyyyweasley @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @wonderful-writer @marauders-loving-queen @vogueweasley @marvelettesassemble @thisismynerdyself @gcdric @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes @pussytalenteditdocartwheels | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: i haven’t written oliver since 2017 and this is only my second time so be prepared for him being ooc 😂 but otherwise enjoy!

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“You ready to lose on Saturday, L/n?”

You span on your heel, a glare already set on your features as your eyes landed on the Gryffindor captain, his own eyes narrowed, a snarl set on his lips as he stared back at you. Your hands tightened around your broom, knuckles turning white, “In your dreams, Wood. Slytherin are going to wipe the floor with you. Good luck out there - you’re gonna need it.”

Without waiting for a response, you marched off towards the Slytherin changing rooms, grumbling under your breath. Oliver Wood was nothing if not annoying. It was possibly his life’s goal to annoy you as much as possible, particularly before games. And if Slytherin lost? You never heard the end of it.

Slytherin practice went by in a blur, and by the end, you were confident in your team’s skills, absolutely sure you had a chance of winning on Saturday. You’d love to get the chance to brag about a Slytherin win to Wood - mostly as payback, but partly to see him get more and more annoyed about the loss.

You put your broom away, and changed into your normal uniform, taking much longer than the rest of the players, meaning the changing room was now empty.

“You played well today.”

You looked up and grinned, “You were watching?”

“Of course. If you continue how you are, you might actually have a chance of beating us. A small chance, but a chance all the same,” Oliver grinned, pushing off the door frame where he was leaning and walking towards you. His hands found your waist and he pulled you towards him, making you let out a laugh.

“Aren’t you supposed to be more supportive of your girlfriend?” You teased, grinning up at him. He offered you a half shrug as your back hit the wall behind you, your arms wrapping around his neck automatically as his lips pushed against yours, bringing you into a rushed yet passionate kiss.

“I am extremely supportive of you. I just like winning is all,” he grinned against your lips, feeling you shake your head a little at him.

“Don’t I know that,” you replied with a mocking eye roll, earning a nudge from him.

“Oi, you love me!”

“Aye,” you nodded with a grin, “That I do, Ollie, that I do.”

***

Saturday arrived quickly, the few days leading up to the match filled with taunts being thrown from each house back and forth, tension building up as the minutes ticked down to what could only be described as possibly the most exciting event of the year.

Gryffindor vs Slytherin was always an interesting show of events, if nothing else, and never failed to excite and energise the crowd.

You hovered in the air, eyes darting around the pitch, looking for the Quaffle as you dove to avoid a bludger that neither of your own team’s beaters cared to bat away from you.

The game was long, already having been on for nearly 2 hours, and brutal. Gryffindor vs Slytherin was always brutal, but the closeness of the scores for the Quidditch Cup added a layer of hostility and tension, with each student firmly picking a side and cheering them on.

You had to admit, the Gryffindor team were good. They were always the most challenging to beat, something Oliver loved to gloat to you about. You could see his knowing smirk from across the pitch, and you scoffed to yourself - the scores were close, but you were relying on Draco Malfoy to find the snitch before Harry, and frankly you weren’t holding your breath over that happening.

And so, you needed to score more, and quickly.

The Quaffle back in your possession, you flew towards the Gryffindor goals, dodging Alicia Spinnet - who tried to take it from you - and narrowly avoiding being hit by a bludger, sent your way by one of the twins.

Just as you flew around Angelina, towards the end goal that you knew was Oliver’s weak spot - as much as he hated to admit it - you suddenly felt something smash into you, your body falling, dropping the Quaffle as you admitted to grab back onto your broom, your fingertips managing to brush the bristles at the end before you realised with a short scream out that you were plummeting towards the floor - fast.

***

You winced as your eyes opened a little, the sliver of light almost blinding you as you groaned, slowly becoming aware of the pain that travelled down your arm and chest as you made the mistake of moving.

“Y/n!”

Your eyes opened fully and you took a deep breath, blinking as your vision became clear, just to see Oliver’s worried face staring down at you.

“Hi,” your voice came out dry, rough as if you’d been screaming, and you very carefully tried to squeeze Oliver’s hand, which was already holding yours.

“You gave me a right scare, lass. My heart nearly fell out my mouth when I saw you heading towards the floor.”

“What happened?” You tried to sit up, wincing at the pain and he immediately made a move to adjust the pillows behind you, ensuring you were comfortable, before responding.

“Rogue bludger. We think it was heading towards Harry, but you got in the way. Dumbledore slowed the fall, but you still hit the ground with a pretty nasty bump. Thought I lost you for a moment.”

“Yeah you should’ve seen him,” you looked up at the new voice, finding that the Weasley twins had appeared at the foot of your bed.

“He was in a right state-“

“Flew straight down to you-“

“Called off the game and everything.”

You turned to Oliver, whose ears and cheeks had tinged red, and grinned at him teasingly, “You called off the game for me?”

“I might’ve done. Also had to carry you here,” he added with an almost shy smile.

“Good job our Ollie doesn’t mind, right?”

“Yeah, he’s been in love with you for years.”

“Oh have you now?” You faked your shock at Oliver, who was now looking anywhere but your eyes, stammering out a response as the twins laughed at his expense, “It’s a good job we’ve been dating for 6 months out of those years then huh?”

“Wait... what?”

You looked up at the twins with an innocent smile, enjoying how their grins turned into confused expressions, realisation hitting them as their eyes widened - comically, you noted, at the same time.

They began stuttering out protests, claiming they’d have known if their dear Captain was in a relationship, however you just shook your head fondly at them.

Sure, you hadn’t made it obvious you were together in public. At all, for that matter. However, the only reason you argued in front of others was because you both found it fun - and to hold up appearances. Whilst it wasn’t your intention to keep the relationship such a secret, it had worked for you and Oliver, and had added an extra bit of excitement.

Grumbling at the revelation, the twins disappeared as abruptly as they’d arrived, leaving you alone with Oliver, who still held your hand in his, tracing circles on the the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Does this mean the secret’s out?” He asked with a smile in your direction. You bit your lip as you grinned back him, “Apparently so. Fun whilst it lasted, huh?”

“Yeah it was,” he hummed in agreement, before he leaned over, his lips hovering over yours, “Though it’s more fun knowing I can snog you in front of everyone now I reckon.”

His lips brushed yours, your eyes fluttering closed as you brought your uninjured hand up to run through his brown locks,

“I like the sound of that.”

[hopefulobjectmiracle]

wearing the smile you gave me

This fic was prompted by a sweet anon, and I decided to dedicate it to my dear friend @randomcanbian because I love her. I know the next few days will be hard for you, and I hope this makes your week a little less difficult 💕

Pairing: Brittany S. Pierce/Santana Lopez

Prompt: “My shirt is way too big on you...but it’s cute”

Words: ~2.3k

Additional Info: Fluff, Canon Compliant, Married!Brittana, Future Fic. 

Read on AO3

-

Brittany wakes to the soft sound of snoring. The clock next to her bed reads 6:04 AM, but it’s still dark outside.

She rolls over in her bed and breathes a sigh of relief. Santana had gotten home last night, safe and sound. Not that she wouldn’t have, but New York is a dangerous city; one that the two of them hadn’t spent much time in together prior to their wedding. And so Brittany couldn’t help but worry about her anyway. 

It’s been four months since the wedding, and married life has been treating them well. They've settled into their new apartment fairly seamlessly, and have been taking classes at Columbia together just like they always planned. Santana would never admit this to Mr. Schuester, but his ‘hunch’ from way back when had turned out to be right - she really did want to go into law in order to make a difference in the world. Preparing for law is difficult, but Santana is loving that she gets to have such an important goal. Brittany is taking classes part-time in the math department, spending most of her time training at the Paul Taylor Dance Company. 

It’s not easy, though. Santana often works late nights at the diner to earn extra money - late nights that keep Brittany up worrying about her. Occasionally, like yesterday, their schedules don’t overlap and they aren’t able to spend time alone together. There are bills to pay, classes to attend, and responsibilities that neither one would have ever dreamed of as a teenager. And yet - it’s perfect, because it’s the two of them. Brittany thinks that her teenage self would be damn proud of where they are today. 

Now, Santana lies next to Brittany, her dark hair fanned out across her face and her features lax with sleep. Brittany smiles as she traces a finger across Santana’s cheek. This is her Santana, hers alone; the soft, sweet girl that no one but her ever gets to see. And Brittany gets to spend the rest of her life with her. She gets to wake up every morning to that beautiful face, spend her entire day loving this incredible woman, and go to sleep every night knowing that Santana will be right next to her. 

Forever. 

This thought alone sparks Brittany’s every nerve, and is enough to send Brittany stumbling out of bed, deciding that she isn’t going to be able to fall asleep again before sunrise. Four months in, and it’s finally hit her on this dark, cold morning - this is it. This is forever with the girl she loves. 

She quickly smoothes the blankets over Santana, presses a soft kiss to her forehead, and all but sprints to the kitchen of their tiny condo. Lord Tubbington, whom Brittany hadn’t even realized was awake, uses this as an opportunity to climb onto their dining table, attempting to make himself at home in their fruit bowl. 

“Quiet, you!” Brittany whispers. “Don’t be an asshole, Santana needs her rest.” Lord Tubbington hisses at her, and Brittany sighs and picks him up, depositing him on the kitchen counter. He mewls in protest, and she jabs her finger at him. “Behave. My wife needs sleep, and I will not have you and your gang ruining it.” She sneaks a glance back into the bedroom. Santana is thankfully still asleep, and Brittany breathes out another sigh of relief. She turns back to Lord Tubbington and says, “I’m keeping an eye on you, mister.”

Brittany leans forward and opens a couple of cupboards mindlessly, unsure of what to make for her wife’s breakfast. It’s a rare free Saturday morning, and she is not going to let it go to waste when she can do something special instead. She sifts through the ingredients they have in their fridge, making a mental note to stock up on bagels. Brittany sighs. She wishes that NYC had at least one Breadstix - she isn’t really the best cook, and Santana only deserves the best. 

Still, Brittany thinks Santana will appreciate anything Brittany makes for her, because she knows that what really matters to Santana is that Brittany loves her enough to make an effort. Even if that effort results in burnt lasagna. Which is an event that Santana has sworn to never bring up again. 

Brittany shakes that thought away. Santana’s had a hard week, and Brittany needs to do everything in her power to make it better. She spins around the kitchen again and grabs the recipe book they keep on the counter. She flips through it, landing on a page with a list of Italian recipes. She scans the pasta section, hoping to find something easy enough to make. Raviolis, farfalle, fusilli...

Fettuccine Alfredo. Bingo. 

Brittany thinks back to her wedding, when Kurt and Blaine burst out laughing when that dish was served for dinner. Apparently, when Sue had locked them in that elevator - a scheme that Brittany had no involvement in, thank you very much - Sue had slipped them a basket of Breadstix food, including a recipe for the pasta. A couple of weeks ago during a drunken night out, Kurt had been so gracious as to share it with Brittany, and ever since then, she’s had it in her back pocket; an ace up her sleeve that she had forgotten about until now. It’s Santana’s favorite, and Kurt’s recipe is simple enough that even Brittany can’t screw it up. 

Brittany takes out her phone and scrolls through her pictures until she finds the recipe. She sets the phone on the counter and gets to work, pulling out the noodles, parmesan cheese, garlic, butter, and cream. She turns the stove on, placing a pot of water on the burner. As she’s boiling the water, Lord Tubbington climbs up next to her, knocking her phone off in the process. 

“Damn it, I told you to stay away,” Brittany snaps, making a shooing motion at Lord Tubbington. She crouches down and looks at her phone, checking to make sure that no damage has been done. 

On the screen is now a photo of the night Santana came to visit Brittany at the dance studio, complete with a big bouquet of flowers. That had been one of the most magical days of her training at the studio, and Santana being there had only made the night better. Brittany picks up her phone and beams. Not for the first time tonight, Brittany is made aware of how lucky she is to be able to have this life with Santana. She places the phone onto the counter again and begins grating the cheese. 

Hours later, Brittany is stirring the alfredo sauce on the pan, contemplating the possibility of a four-dimensional cube within the macroscopic universe, when Santana comes padding into the kitchen. “Hey,” Santana says, startling Brittany out of her reverie. 

“Hi!” 

“Mmmm...that smells so good,” Santana says, stroking Brittany’s arm and inhaling the scents of garlic and cream with a sleepy grin on her face. “What’re you making?”

“It’s a surprise,” Brittany sing-songs. “And good morning, honey,” she says, giving Santana a kiss on the cheek. Santana yawns and rubs her eyes, her hair sticking in every direction. It’s the most gorgeous thing Brittany has ever seen, and - oh. 

This is new. 

Santana is wearing Brittany’s MIT shirt. The oversized one that Brittany used to throw on daily when she was at the school. The one that was her only source of comfort so far away from home; the one that she put away after reuniting with Santana because she simply didn’t need it anymore. 

Now, it somehow looks even better on the person that is Brittany’s forever home. The shirt hangs loose on Santana’s diminutive frame. She’s not wearing anything under it, and that makes her look even more appealing than Brittany had ever thought a T-shirt would look on any one person. 

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Brittany says wonderingly. 

“Yeah, babe, is that okay?” 

“Okay? I...” Brittany is at a loss for words. She slides her hands down Santana’s lovely arms and yanks her in for a kiss. She cups Santana’s face, holding her close and keeping their foreheads pressed together after they break the kiss. 

“I’m going to take that a yes,” Santana says, grinning as she pulls back. 

“You look incredible,” Brittany breathes. “You have no idea how much I-”

A loud noise goes off right then, making both girls jump. Brittany hurries back to her saucepan, pouring its contents into a bowl. 

“What exactly is that?” Santana says, peering over Brittany’s shoulder. Brittany spins around and covers Santana’s eyes.

“No, Santana! It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Brittany says, steering Santana away from the stove. 

“I want to help you,” Santana says, attempting to push past her back into the kitchen. “You don’t have to do this all by you- ”

“No can do, honey,” Brittany says, sweeping her hands down Santana’s back and hoisting her up from underneath. 

“Britt - ah - what!” Santana yells as Brittany picks her up. She struggles to get out of Brittany’s arms. “Put me down!”

“Sorry,” Brittany says, adjusting Santana in her arms. She walks over to the bedroom and deposits Santana onto the bed, sending her tumbling into the mattress. “You stay here until the food is ready.”

Santana faux-glares at her from where she’s sprawled on the bed, and then sighs in defeat. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Brittany leans in and kisses Santana’s forehead. “Stay here.” 

Brittany races back to the kitchen, pouring the sauce over her noodles and sprinkling the remaining cheese over them. She takes out the orange juice from the fridge, removes the muffins from the microwave, and neatly arranges everything onto a tray. She carries the tray to the bedroom, careful not to trip over Lord Tubbington’s now-sleeping form. 

Santana’s face lights up when she sees Brittany, and she gasps in awe as she takes in the breakfast Brittany made. Santana ducks her head, bashful and so, so cute. “Britt,” she says, smiling softly. “You made all of this for me?”

“Only the best for you, babe.”

“How did you do it? I thought...” Santana trails off. “You’ve always said that you can’t cook. But you made my favorite meal for me.”

“A chef never reveals her secrets,” Brittany says, winking at her. She makes a mental note to thank Kurt at their next night out. 

“Oh, yeah?” Santana teases. She leans in closer. “And what else does this mysterious chef do?”

“Right now, she just wants her wife to eat her breakfast,” Brittany says.

Santana rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay. But you need to come eat with me.” She sets aside the tray and draws back the covers, gesturing for Brittany to join her in the bed. Brittany crawls in and tucks herself against Santana, pulling the blankets back over them. Santana sets the tray on their knees and hands her a fork. The two of them sit in companionable silence for a couple of minutes, taking turns feeding each other small bites of the food; just relishing in each other’s company. 

“You know what?” Brittany says suddenly. 

Santana swallows down a bite of pasta. “Hmm?”

“This shirt that you’re wearing…” Brittany reaches out and gently fingers the fabric. “This is what I used to wear when I was away. I don’t know why, but it would always make me feel safe. It helped me when I was isolated from you and all of our friends. It made me feel less alone.”

Santana nods her head in understanding. “So, how come you don’t wear it anymore? It’s pretty badass, and I bet you looked so cute in it. It’d be perfect for late nights when I’m at the diner.”

Brittany shrugs. “I don’t need it now. I have you to make me feel safe. Even when you’re not here physically, I have the knowledge that you’re my wife,” she says, showing off her wedding ring. “You believed in me when no one else did, you supported me through everything that happened before MIT, and you even managed to figure out that I wasn’t happy and got me the hell out of there. Why would I need some old shirt when I have you, my darling wife, to keep me safe?”

Santana grabs Brittany’s hand and kisses it. “You make me feel safe too, Britt,” she says earnestly. “Life is so, so hard sometimes, and you make me feel like it’s okay to just be myself in a world that doesn’t always like me.” She looks down and presses her lips together. “Growing up, I never thought I would have that. I always thought I’d marry a man, and he’d sit around judging me on everything I did.” 

Brittany winces, remembering how heartbroken Santana was for most of their high school years and how long she’d had to struggle with her feelings. She remembers too, how her own heart broke every time Santana recited a hypothetical future with some nameless man, knowing that it would never make her truly happy. 

“I never thought I’d be able to feel so free and so loved,” Santana continues. She cups Brittany’s cheek. “But here you are,” she says, grinning helplessly. 

“Here I am,” Brittany agrees, bringing their lips together in a soft, slow kiss. Brittany tries to pour all the love in her heart into that kiss, hoping that through the kiss, Santana will feel even a fraction of the infinite love Brittany holds for her. 

“And I’m going to stay with you, Santana. I’m going to love you and make you feel like this for the rest of your life.”

“I’m going to do the same for you, Britt.”

As they lie together, talking, kissing, loving one another, their stomachs so full, their bodies so comfortable, and their hearts so happy, Brittany thinks once again that this is really it for them. 

This is forever, and Brittany wouldn’t have it any other way.

[storiesforallfandoms]

fatherhood ~ zac efron

word count: 1519

request?: yes!

@kellysimagines​ “Can you make one where the reader and zac have been together for 13 years (since Hairspray) and the reader is a youtuber and they have a daughter who is 8 months old and the reader asks him questiones about him being a dad and stuff with the baby with us and we also answer fab questions on how we keep our relationship so good after so many years and stuff? :)”

description: in which they decide to do a q&a about their relationship and parenthood

pairing: zac efron x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

“Wanna go to mama?” Zac asked as he held our eight month old towards me. She thought for a moment before pulling away, cuddling close to her father.

“I’ll remember this,” I told her, playfully narrowing my eyes at her.

I adjusted my camera to make sure it was perfect one last time before finally hitting the record button.

“Hey everyone!” I greeted the camera. “It’s (Y/N) and, back by popular demand, we have Zac!”

Zac smiled and waved at the camera. “Hey everyone.”

“And today we are also joined by the most adorable girl in the whole world, Dani Efron.” I looked over to see Dani was more interested in her socks than the filming. “You guys have been asking for a Q&A with Zac and I about parenthood, so I decided it was time to give you what you’ve been asking for.”

Dani squealed to herself before reaching for one of her toys on the floor. Zac bent over to pick it up and pass it to her. She smiled excitedly and began to play with it.

“I asked you guys to tweet me your questions regarding Dani, the pregnancy, the birth - but nothing too r rated - and about myself and Zac. I picked a couple, and now here we go,” I continued to explain.

I picked up my phone and opened the first question. “Okay, question number one says, Pretty cliché question here, but what was your guys’ first reactions when (Y/N) found out she was pregnant?”

“Shock,” Zac answered first. He began to laugh once he said it. “I know that’s also cliché, but it’s the truth. You told me you were pregnant and I remember just like...not knowing what to do.”

“I really wish I filmed your reaction now, but I was afraid it wouldn’t go well,” I admitted.

Zac and I had been together for nearly 13 years when I found out I was pregnant. Neither one of us had talked about marriage and kids seriously at the time, we were both comfortable with where we were in the relationship. We had talked about eventually wanting kids, but we were both still young and still focused on our careers.

I took a pregnancy test shortly after the second period I missed. When it came back positive, I went to the doctor to make sure and sure enough, it came back positive as well. I was so scared to tell Zac because I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. I didn’t think he’d be mad, but what if he wasn’t ready? Was I even ready?

He was shocked, as he had said. At first I thought he was going to pass out. I didn’t think he was even breathing. The longer it took for him to respond, the more anxious I got. When he finally spoke, my heart began to flutter.

“Holy fuck, I’m gonna be a dad!”

He had lifted me into his arms and held me tightly, happy tears running down his face. I kissed him for so long after that, and we were just happy.

“I was pretty shocked as well, but I had an idea that I was because I had missed two periods,” I responded. “I had myself convinced it was like a medial reason, though. I was so sure I wasn’t pregnant.”

“I suppose it was about time for us to have a kid, we have been together for years.”

Dani threw her toy onto the floor and immediately exclaimed. Zac chuckled and placed her on the floor, letting her crawl around after her toys.

“The next question is, What was it like being pregnant?”

“That’s a question for you,” Zac laughed.

“I’m aware,” I said and playfully stuck my tongue out at him. “At first it was basically just like having a persistent stomach bug, but once Dani actually started growing it felt...just weird. It was like this constant reminder that there was something inside of me growing. And when she’d start to move and was like...baby size if not getting to be baby size, it was this weird realization that she was actually there. That she actually existed. It was all just this weird sensation in general.”

“You went through so much while you were pregnant,” Zac admitted. “I will never be able to say I’m tough ever again cause I am no way tougher than what you went through.”

I couldn’t help but blush at this. I had been hearing this praise for over a year, but I would never get tired of hearing the compliments.

“Ah, I expected this one,” I said as I looked at the next question on my phone. “Is marriage next for you guys?”

I looked over at Zac. I quickly took in his appearance to make sure I wasn’t about to get a surprise engagement. I loved Zac, and of course I’d say yes, but I wasn’t ready to be proposed to while filming a video.

Noticing my look, Zac merely chuckled and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “I’m not gonna propose right now. When I do it, it’s going to be private and intimate. No one will even know it’ll have happened until after we’re married.”

I couldn’t help but smile brightly at his response. “I like that idea.”

Zac held his hand out towards my phone. “Let me pick the next question.”

I passed it to him and he scrolled through the list of questions I had saved. “Oh, I like this one: Did you guys have any other names picked out for Dani? What were they?”

“Well, we decided not to find out her gender until after she was born,” I explained, “so we had many almost names picked out for her.”

“I was adamant on Josh, just because I liked that name a lot,” Zac said. “And Theodor, I thought that was a cute and proper name.”

“I vetoed Theodor because the last thing we needed was people making jokes about us naming our kid Ted, for obvious reasons,” I said, playfully nudging Zac. “I tried to convince him to choose Troy instead.”

“I vetoed that one immediately.”

“As for girls, the only other name we had besides Danielle was Isabelle, but that’s because I’m obsessed with the Mortal Instruments series and Izzy is my favorite character. When she was born, though, we just knew she was a Dani.”

At the sound of her name, Dani looked up at us from the floor as she sucked on her toy. I couldn’t help but smile at my baby girl before quickly sweeping her up in my arms and placing kisses all over her face. She squealed in response, but I could hear the giggles in between them.

Dani stayed up in my arms through the next few questions before getting bored and wanting to play on the floor again. Zac and I decided to wrap it up after one last question.

��I think we’ll leave that there,” I said into the camera. “Thank you guys so much for watching. If you liked this video, give it a thumbs up and maybe I’ll do another Q&A some time in the future. Hit the subscribe button if you haven’t already, and if you have make sure you turn on notifications so you know every time I post. See you guys next week!”

I covered the camera with my hand before turning it off, my usual outro. Once I had the camera off, Zac stood from his chair and stretched his arms out.

“I don’t know how you film these videos,” he commented. “My body feels so cramped up right now.”

“I think I’ve just gotten used to it,” I responded as I stretched my legs out.

Zac picked Dani up in his arms and began to playfully rock her. “I got to talk about my favorite girl, so I’d have to say the cramped up body is definitely well worth it.”

Dani smiled, her single tooth slightly visible from behind her little lips. Zac kissed her cheek as he walked around our house with her, Dani more than content with being in her father’s arms.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself at my little family. I loved Zac more than words could ever say, and I didn’t think that love could get any stronger until the day I saw him holding our beautiful baby girl for the first time. He had been there for me through the entire pregnancy, and had been such a great father towards Dani. I couldn’t have asked for a better life partner than him.

Noticing my starring, Zac raised an eyebrow at me. “What?”

“Nothing,” I responded with a shrug. “I love you is all.”

He smiled back at me and responded, “I love you, too.” In a higher pitched voice, he moved Dani in front of his face and added, “And I love you, too, mommy.”

I giggled before standing from my chair. I walked over to the two and kissed Dani’s chubby cheeks before kissing Zac more sweetly on the lips.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: Just so you’re aware, this takes place during the mid-60s and Lee is a little older than in the movie :) Just so you’re not confused.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You felt alone on campus. 

When you got your acceptance, your parents swore it would be the experience of a lifetime, not to mention the value of education. Always the quiet one, withdrawn and wispy, the thought of moving away from home and living among strangers made you nervous. 

Your first day in the dormitory assured you of your doubts and a semester in, you were still the sore thumb among the six girls in your unit. Your lectures were your sole respite from the pressure to make friends and fit in. You were always early and always intent on the professor.

That was what you were there for after all. If you wanted to hold onto your bursary, you had to maintain your average. You couldn’t be like the other students; you didn’t have rich parents or a trust fund, your degree actually had to mean something.

That night, you walked back from the evening book club meeting alone, as usual. You signed up in hopes you might meet someone like yourself, someone who didn’t just want to drink or smoke. While the members weren’t interested in the party life, they made you feel awful stupid as you struggled to pick up on the same themes in your readings and your sharing skills were never strong. 

When it was your turn to talk about the chapter, you stuttered and muttered until you just gave up. You replayed the disastrous meeting in your head, the used copy of Nabakov under your arm as your bag swung against your side. 

The sky turned a deepening azure as you reached Greek row and heard the muffled crackle of a record player and the buzz of voices from the largest of white houses painted with their respective fraternity colours. It was that new kind of music, the kind that made you want to hop, the kind the Christian club lobbied against on campus green.

As you got further down the street, the late winter crisp crawled up your thick stockings and made you shiver. You got closer to the raucous façade and watched as a couple stumbled out in bubbly conversation and quickly embraced against a pillar of the porch. You kept your head down and focused on the sidewalk.

A flash of blue and the ‘wop’ of a siren brought you to a halt. You stopped just at the corner of the frosty yard, the cloudy breath of the co-eds filling the air as they parted. The cruiser door opened and closed loudly and steady footsteps crossed the street. You watched from the shadows as the officer strode up the walk and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, propping his foot up on the lowest plank.

“You kids are bein’ awfully loud,” his voice carried above the din, he had the local accent that lilted his tone so that even the meanest words were dampened.

“Sorry, officer,” the girl pulled away from the boy and came to the top of the steps, “it’s Friday and we were just having fun--”

“Yeah, yeah,” the cop said as he hooked his thumb on his belt, “y’all know I’m here every week… you turn that racket down or maybe I come in and find something that needs confiscatin’.”

“Got it,” the frat boy said as he stood beside the girl, “I’ll tell Leighton.”

“Ain’t fun for me neither,” the officer slid his foot down to the ground, “I don’t like to ruin you kids’ night.”

“Thank you, officer,” the boy said, “I’m goin’ now.”

“Mhmm, I’ll see you next week then,” the cop scoffed as the boy grabbed the girl and dragged her inside. His voice called through the noise of the crowd for the boy Leighton and the music dulled just enough that it was only a subtle hum, “funny kids.”

The officer turned and chuckled as he reached into his jacket. He paused and his eyes wandered over to you as you stood silently by the edge of the yard. He pulled out a small box and tapped out a toothpick as he smiled at you. He replaced the box in his pocket as he stopped short.

“You headin’ in, girl?” he asked as he placed the toothpick between his lips, “looks like you late for the party.”

“Uh, no, I was just… going home,” you slowly urged yourself forward, “didn’t want to get in your way.”

You tapped towards him in your mary janes as you adjusted the book in your hand. He watched you approach as you kept your head down, just wanting to get past and get on to your dorm.

“Hold up,” he said just as you reached him, “you walkin’ home all alone after dark?”

“My dorm is just… just around the corner,” you said as you stopped and kept your eyes on his shoes, “thank you, officer.”

“Now, I don’t care if it’s just right there, you shouldn’t be alone,” he insisted, “how’s bout a ride, hmm? I gotta make a round of the campus anyway.”

“I can make it on my own…” you began and he tutted, “I mean, thank you, I suppose it’s rude to… um…”

“You’re not from these parts, huh?” he asked, “you got that accent. Real fine.”

“Uh uh,” you uttered, “it’s a nice place though.”

“City is, but the rest of the county...” he remarked, “you must be far from home then.”

“A little,” you shrugged.

“Well,” he rubbed his hands together, “let’s get goin’, it’s cold tonight.”

“Thank you, again,” you slowly followed him as he backed away and turned to cross the street.

“Not at all,” he said warmly as he neared the car and pulled open the back door, “one thing, it’s against policy to let passengers in the front seat.”

“Oh?” you blinked and looked into the cruiser, “I can walk, I--”

“Go on,” he waved you in, “probably comfier back there anyhow.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile and slid into the back seat. You swept your bag up into your lap as the door snapped shut and tucked the book under the flap. The car shifted as he got in the front and he looked at you in the wide rear view mirror.

“Mind my manners, I didn’t even introduce myself, Sheriff Bodecker,” he jingled his keys as he spoke, “and you, honey?”

You hesitated at the added pet name. No one ever called you anything but ‘miss’ or ‘young woman’. You cleared your throat and shifted as you tugged nervously at your scarf as it pressed against your chin. It was damp from your hot breath. You gave him your name and shrank back against the leather.

“This your first year?” he asked as he pulled out and tossed his toothpick out the window.

“Yes, sir,” you answered and you saw his head tilt just slightly as he drove slowly.

“You like it?” he continued.

“It’s… new,” you said stiffly, “I don’t know many people but I… I’m learning a lot.”

“Oh, I hear they teach lots of interesting things these days. Lotta red nonsense,” he sighed, “which way am I goin’, honey?”

“Left, sir, the third building on your right with the orange brick,” you replied.

“No parties to go to?” he snickered as he came up to your dormitory and rolled to a stop.

“I… I’m not much for them, sir,” you said as you tried the handle but the door didn’t budge.

“Sorry, forgot about that,” he got out and opened the door from outside, “there ya go.”

You stepped out and your foot slipped on a patch of thin ice. You caught yourself on the door as he grabbed your arm and helped steady you. You laughed nervously and thanked him.

“Careful there,” he said, “hate for you to mess up that face, honey.”

“I’m alright,” you assured him and carefully drew away from him, “thank you for the ride, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s just my job,” he sniffed, “you know, keepin’ the campus safe… when I can.”

“I’m sure you have much more to worry about than some college kids,” you said.

“Eh, you’d be surprised,” he intoned, “I’m around on Fridays, there’s always noise complaints ‘round here.”

You were quiet, unsure what to say or how to detach yourself gracefully. You just wanted to go inside and listen to the radio as you reread the chapter. You smiled nervously and he looked down at you beneath the streetlight.

“I might see you around,” he said, “and don’t mind givin’ ya another ride, ya know? Can’t have you lost in the dark, heh.”

“It’s nice of you, sir, but I’m grown now, I can take care of myself,” you assured him, though you hated how black it got on this side of campus.

“Well, don’t be shy, give me a wave if you see me,” he closed the door as you sidestepped it, “and you have a good night. Get yourself warmed up with some nice tea… though I know you college kids prefer a harder comfort.”

“I don’t drink,” you said awkwardly, “but, uh… good night, officer.”

You went around the back of the car and stepped up onto the curb. You went up to the grated door and fished out your key. You peeked over your shoulder as you unlocked the door and found the Sheriff watching you over the roof of his car. 

His large-brimmed hat shadowed his face and his constant gaze sent a shiver through you, but that could’ve been the nightly chill. You gave a small wave and let yourself in, quickly hiding behind the inner door, happy to be home safe.

[starcloud-nova]

Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?

God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.

Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.

Cassia’s fics:

Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)

At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.

hypnic jump

Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.

Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)

Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)

~~~

Kestrel’s fics:

Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)

Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.

All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.

Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.

(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)

triskelion

A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.

While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.

Permanently.

Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.

the meaning of hope

One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.

~~~

Lilly’s fics:

Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly

“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”

The boy blinks. “The what?”

Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.

Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words 😅

The Root to Villainy

Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.

Whoops?

~~~

Dance’s fics:

Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen

“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.

“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.

Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.

 Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.

grow as we go

The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.

They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.

She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.

“I’m not ready.”

 Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.

~~~

Azure’s fics:

A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy

Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.

Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.

Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.

Not that he's aware of it, of course.

A Missed Chance

Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.

But this isn’t that universe.

Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?

~~~

Alice’s fics:

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)

“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.

Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.

But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.

~~~

Ely’s fics:

bend and break by @queenangst (x)

In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.

draw and quarter

In District Twelve, no one volunteers.

When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.

He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.

Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.

damage control

After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.

Between the Wind and the Water

Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.

It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.

a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)

Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]

"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."

Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.

For the two of them, it's an opportunity.

A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.

of the mighty heart

It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.

...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.

After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.

And then there's Kacchan.

~~~

Fawn’s fics:

Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)

It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.

~~~

Nez’s fics:

The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)

Toshinori is caught in a time loop.

~~~

Aodh’s fics:

new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)

Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,

Izuku tenses, this is-

This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-

The Nomu.

One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.

Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.

~~~

Ghost’s fics:

fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)

There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.

Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.

“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Precisely.”

Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.

The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.

As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.

~~~

Amira’s fics:

And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)

AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON

AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload  Okay, let’s talk HeroCon. 

Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.

Enter HeroCon:X.

A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.

The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel

“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”

Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.

Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“

That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.

“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”

~~~

Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!

[male-fanfics-for-days]

The Jealous Type

Part 2 of Tsukishima x Reader Pierced by Cupid

A/n: Someone asked from more, and honestly Tsukki is one of my favs so, I love him and my readers. I’m a simple being. 

Best to listen to: WTF by HUGEL

The room was filled with gentle and calming lofi music as the two boys studied and did their homework, sitting across from each other at a table on Tsukishima’s floor. Y/n let his leg shake under the table, trying desperately to focus and Tsukishima called out answers once in a while. Because of a pretty bad storm that suddenly rolled through, all after school activities were canceled. 

Volleyball had already been canceled because both coach Ukai and Takeda were sick so Tsukishima planned to stay after with his boyfriend, Y/n. But the announcement came late and they had to run back to Tsukishima’s house since Y/n’s house was too far to walk alone, along with the wind being too fast and the rain pouring down in buckets.

It seemed Tsukishima’s mother was more excited about Y/n staying over for the night than Tsukishima was, which was embarrassing to the tall boy but Y/n said he was happy that she allowed him to stay. They had been dating now for just over a month so the Tsukishima family knew Y/n well at this point, him having stayed over many times.

Both had taken a shower and bath one they got inside, separately of course, and since Y/n had no spare clothes Tsukishima died inside while looking on at Y/n drowning in his large clothes. Tsukishima suggested studying just to get his mind off the fact that not only was his adorable boyfriend alone with him in his bedroom, but also wearing his clothes.

Tsukishima knew studying the traditional way was difficult for Y/n, but he never made fun of him for it despite Y/n himself laughing at himself. There was some teasing here and there, but Tsukishima made very sure not to push it too far.

Take this moment for instance, as they sat across from each other, Tsukishima glanced up and saw Y/n distracted. 

Again. 

Y/n's eyes journeyed around Tsukishima's room, curious of every little thing despite having been in his room many times. His head booped to the music meaning he was slightly aware of his surroundings, but soon Y/n's eyes went still and his body froze. 

'Finally fully zoned out' Tsukishima thought, quietly deciding to clean his and Y/n's papers up. He knew there was no real focus after Y/n fully zoned out, as it would take him a while to get out of that head space. He did this often, but Tsukishima noticed it was only when he was completely comfortable that he fully spaced out. His eyes would dilate and his body would be still, breathing as if he was sleeping with his eyes open. These zone outs could last a minuet to 5, which at first made Tsukishima confused, but he soon came to love it as it was just another quirk of his boyfriend.

Y/n stayed frozen as Tsukishima cleaned up their studies and made his bed, since his boyfriend was sleeping over and looking at the clock, it was already pretty late. When Y/n would come over, Tsukishima never brought out a futon. Always making the excuse that it was too much work, but both boys knew it was just his way of saying he liked sleeping together.

Tsukishima just got the table put away when Y/n's eyes blinked and he took in a deep breath and looked around, Tsukishima put a hand on his hip and smirked at Y/n. 

"Welcome back."

Y/n groaned and fell back to the floor, covering his face with his hands. 

"Ugh, I did it again."

"Yep."

"Why didn't you wake me?" Y/n dropped his hands and looked up at his boyfriend with guilt, Tsukishima however just shrugged, taking off his glasses and laying down in his bed. 

"I needed an excuse to stop studying anyway." He said lazily, settling himself under the sheets.

"EH!?" Y/n launched himself to his feet, stomping and glaring at his boyfriend. Tsukishima laid with his back turned to Y/n to hide the smirk he had on his face, thrilled by Y/n reaction to his teasing. "Am I just an excuse to you?!" Y/n growled, knowing full well he wasn't and meant more than that to Tsukishima, but he couldn't help but take the bait. 

Tsukishima pretended to snore, ignoring Y/n, who huffed in response. For a moment he just tapped his foot on the floor like an upset rabbit, Tsukishima having to cover his mouth not to laugh. Tsukishima then felt the rustle of his blankets then a weight behind him on the bed, small hand curling up on his back while a leg was thrown over his waist. 

They stayed like this for only a moment before Tsukishima turned around and completely enveloped Y/n, one arm under his head, the other round his waist, and both his legs wrapped around him making their legs a tangled mess. 

Both quickly got settled and breathed together, Y/n's head close to Tsukishima's chest while Tsukishima settled his chin on the top of Y/n's head. 

Sleep came quickly for both. 

-----------

Biiiizzzz

…

…

Biiiiiiizzzzz

Biiiizzzzz

Biiiizzz

Biiiizzzz

Biiiizzz

Biiiiizzz

Biiiizzzzz--

"Ugh…" 

Tsukishima squinted a glare over his shoulder at the blinking light of his phone on his desk, curling closer around Y/n in hopes the buzzing of his phone will just stop. 

…

…

…

…

…

...

'Thank god it--'

Briiiing! Briiiing~!

Briiiing! Briiiing~!

"Ugh!!" He growled, unwillingly untangling himself from his peacefully sleeping boyfriend, sliding out of bed and going over to his desk. Picking up his glasses and putting them one, he opened his phone to see 10+ messages and 3 missed calls. "Give me a break…" He muttered, opening his messages to the Karasuno Volleyball group chat. 

Tsukishima growled and typed out his answer. 

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. Though this was true, glancing over his shoulder watching Y/n snuggle deeper into the covers and turning over to continue his sleep, he didn't want his team to think Y/n kept him home.

He then silenced his phone, took off his glasses, and walked straight back over to his bed. He then basically crushed Y/n underneath him, tightly keeping him close to his chest. Y/n made a small whine but quickly adjusted and went back to sleep, Tsukishima taking in a deep breath of his scent and let out a large sigh from his nose, closely following behind his boyfriend in sleep. 

Obviously, they could not sleep all day, required school and all that. When both arrived at school it was already close to lunch, it was also clear to anyone that knew the two boys that they were somewhere together before school. The remaining classes they had before lunch went on normal, they both acted natural as if they were only acquaintances or just mediocre friends. 

Neither of them were really ready to make their relationship public, so when I came to being in public there was no PDA at all. They were both okay with this and no one was the wiser.

That was until lunch came around. 

"Y/N-CHAN!!!"

Y/n, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi all looked over to the classroom door to see the same peppy girl who was apparently friends with Y/n. He explained they live near each other and were an unlikely pair of friends since young. 

"If you can call it that." Y/n said, scratching his head. 

"What do you mean?" Yamaguchi asked, the three of them walking home all together. Y/n let out a sigh before answering. 

"Well, in all honesty, I don't really see us as friends. She is more of a person who talks to me, or tries to, often. I don’t really make an effort to see or talk to her."

"Do you even like her?" Tsukishima questioned, knowing that his curiosity might be taken as jealousy, which it wasn't.

"... Not really?" Y/n shrugged. "I don't want to be mean to her though, she's a nice girl… I think? Either way, we just don't have that much in common so… I don't know why she still talks to me."

"Nachi-san, hello." Y/n said slowly, both Tsukishima and Yamaguchi seeing his increasing uncomfortable pose from her sudden appearance and loud voice. 

She smiled brightly at him, then pulled out her bento from behind her back. 

"Let's eat together! It's been awhile!"

Y/n looked between Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, almost in a silent cry of help before turning back to the girl without looking her in the eyes. 

"Well, um… I'm having lunch with my friends--"

"L/n-kun?"

The group of teens once again turned their sights to the classroom door, this time it was the archery club faculty teacher so Y/n stood up from his seat. 

"Yes, sensei?"

"Can you come with me for lunch? We have things to discuss about your club, nothing is wrong so don't worry."

The teacher's smile was far more gentle than Nachi's and Y/n took his own bento and nodded to the teacher, then looked at Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. 

"Uhm… Sorry, guys."

"No worries, N/n." Yamaguchi reassured with a smile. "Do what you need to."

With that Y/n nodded and left with the teacher, leaving an uncomfortable silence between the two boys and the girl they didn't know anything about other than what Y/n said. She turned to them both, trying (and failing) to hide the fact she was looking them up and down. She gave them both a large fake smile, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi likened it to a wild animal baring its teeth to show strength. 

"So, you two are friends with Y/n-chan?"

Both were silent, Yamaguchi was slightly scared while Tsukishima was annoyed, he could tell where this was going and certainly didn’t think he had the patience for it. 

"And?" Tsukishima snapped back, then gave his own condescending smile. "Who are you?"

Her face seemed to flush slightly in anger, seeing that her presence was only making one of the boys fearful of her. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, a stiff smile on her face now.

"I'm his best friend."

"Oh? That's odd," Tsukishima said, giving her a smug look as he smirked her way. "Usually best friends talk about each other. I've never heard of you."

She growled and slammed her free hand on the table glaring at Tsukishima, Yamaguchi jumped in his seat and shivered. He was not a fan of being in the middle of a fight between a jealous girl and Tsukishima, he knew how ruthless Tsukishima could be when he wanted to and the girl seemed just straight up crazy.

“Tsukki…” Yamaguchi whispers, but was ignored.

"Listen here, four eyes, " she sneered at Tsukishima. "Y/n and I are meant to be, and you are taking up too much of his time. Stay away from my Y/n-chan."

While raising a brow and not missing a beat, Tsukishima then stood up out of his seat, easily towering over her which made her flinch back a little but still glaring. Tsukishima's expression held only a smugness his enemies have seen, his eyes looking down on her like she was merely a stick at his feet. 

"I see. You have a pathetic crush on a boy who barely even knows you exist, and the only time he does is when you scream in his ears." Tsukishima let out a small chuckle, slightly covering his mouth while continuing. 

"Like a small Chihuahua."

Yamaguchi couldn't stop the chuckle that left his mouth in time, and the girl's face flourished into a beat red. She huffed and stormed out of the room, not before Tsukishima picked up her bento by the tie and waved it. 

"Chihuahua! You forgot your puppy chow!"

---------------

Neither Yamaguchi nor Tsukishima told Y/n about what happened with the girl, both not willing to give her any more thought than they have. They did wonder, however, if she had acted this way towards anyone else who considered themselves friends with the archer boy, wondering if that is why he had so little friends before they had met. 

Volleyball had once again been cancelled due to the coach and Takeda still being sick, so Tsukishima and Yamaguchi made plans to stay after to watch Y/n's archery practice. What they didn't expect was the volleyball team overhearing and all of them deciding to go to the archery club. 

Tsukishima just wanted time with his boyfriend but it seemed the world had other plans. When the team walked into the gym, Tsukishima held in a groan at the one person he didn't want to see again. Nachi was fixing her hair up in her phone camera and turned to the sound of the gym door opening, not holding back a groan upon seeing Tsukishima. 

"Ugh, it's you."

Tsukishima gave a fake smile. 

"It's me."

The whole team could practically feel the electric-like tension between the two, and before anyone of a more sane mind could say anything, a couple of wild second years set it off. 

"Oh~? You know our lanky middle blocker?"

Tsukishima glared at Tanaka, muttering 'I'm not lanky' and the girl scuffed and flipped her hair in the team's direction. 

"Barely, he's just a cockroach I found around Y/n-chan during lunch, him and the freckle boy over there." She smirked at the team, then turned her back to them. "And it seems the cockroach caused an infestation to appear in Y/n-chan’s club, how horrific."

"HUH?!" Both Tanaka and Nishinoya were taken back and angered by her words, the rest of the team were just surprised at her bitter attitude towards them. Yamaguchi hid more behind Tsukishima who stood tall looking down his nose at her, not at all fased by her egregious  petty behaviour. Sugawara, being the nice individual he was, chuckled and brushed the back of his head with a gentle smile. 

"Uh, well, I'm sorry for any incon-"

"I don't care what you guys do," She cut it, making the whole team feral at the mear audacity to cut off Sugawara. She turned her head over her shoulder and glared harshly at the team. 

"Just stay away from Y/n."

Before anyone could say anything more, the other gym door opened up and in walked Y/n with an arm full of bow sticks and a bag full of bow strings. Unaware of what just happened, he flinched a little at the sight of more people in the gym. 

A couple of first years came around the corner with Y/n, 2 second years, and a third year all standing behind him. 

"Am I gonna need more bows, aren't I?" Y/n sighed with a weak smile, looking to Tsukishima only to see his eyes holding pure annoyance. “Uhm, is something wrong?”

“Yes--” But Tsukishima was cut off by the shrill peppy voice of Nachi, which made him glare at the back of her head.

“Nothing at all Y/n-chan! Are we going to archery now?”

Y/n walked into the gym, setting the things he was carrying gently down on a laid out table, then turned back to Nachi with a blank face.

“Do you mean, ‘are we going to begin archery now’?”

“ Same thing!” She waved off, picking up the nearest bow, which happened to be Y/n’s personal bow. It was a shiny dark blue with specks of gold on the back of the limbs, grip was pitch black speckled with white, and the belly was a pure white while the tips were dipped in gold. The bow string was also gold and shined in the light, even those unfamiliar with a bow would stand in awe of it’s beauty.

“Wait!” Y/n then snatched it out of Nachi’s hands and slightly glared at her. “You guys are going to be setting up your own bows!”

“What kind of archery is this?” Kinoshita wondered out loud, which made Y/n smile brightly, eager to teach anyone about his beloved hobby. 

“Chinese Archery! Westerner bows, things like compound bows, aren’t allowed here unfortunately.” Y/n then looked off with a blush, scratching his head with a meek expression. “I … found that out the hard way.”

Y/n then gently set down his bow on the table, moving to the side of the table and waving an arm to it. He smiled at everyone there, excited to finally have people interested in archery, unknowing of the tension caving in the gym created by a jealous girl and an irritated boyfriend. Even the seven individuals not on the volleyball team could feel the tension, wondering if they should have all come on a different day.

“Take a bow and a string and let’s begin our lessons!” Y/n exclaimed excitedly, Nachi making an effort to be the first to grab one and stand close to him after.

“Oh boy…” Daichi sighed, beginning to walk over to the table with the rest of the team.

“This will be interesting.” Sugawara stated, not at all being genuine and also sighing at the glare the first year girl sent him.

-----------

"I still don't think I get it." Nachi said with a pout, looking at her long time crush with ‘innocent’ eyes.

"Umm… Well, that's fine… Despite me having explained it 7 times, I guess I can explain it again."

Everyone who was not  Y/n or Nachi groaned in their heads, all only thinking one thing. 

"She's so desperate."

"Pst, Tsukishima."

Tsukishima turned to Sugawara, who was waving him over and huddled with the rest of the team. He walked over, placing his bow down and joining the huddle.

"What is with that girl?" Sugawara said bluntly, giving a weak smile and tired eyes, Nishinoya next to speak. 

"Yeah, and what'd you do to make her so pissy?"

"I hate to say it," Yachi spoke up softly, nodding. "but she's really… Mean."

"That's putting it lightly." Kiyoko crossed her arms, glancing over at poor Y/n who once again went over the proper way to hold the bow and arrow and releasing said arrow. 

"Tsukishima," Asahi raised his hand, his attitude turning weary and timid. "you didn't actually do anything mean to her… Did you?"

The whole team then turned their eyes to the tall middle blocker, all knowing full well of his treatment of others, who in turn rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. 

"As if I'd give someone like her the time of day."

"She has a crush on Y/n… which is obvious to anyone but him..." Yamaguchi explained. "And apparently we've been taking up too much of his time."

"I just told her that her crush on him was pathetic." Tsukishima shrugged. "It's her fault for getting pissy over the truth."

Sugawara sighed out loud while the team captain put his face into his palm, Asahi mumbling that that might be too much. The relatively quiet second years all shook their head, regretting agreeing to tagging along to this archery club. Kageyama for once nodded with Tsukishima, making Hinata back away from him in shock.

“You agree?!” Hinata exclaimed, kageyama glared at him.

“Not like I would want to, but he’s right.” He then crossed his arms. “Why go after someone who’s already in a relationship? Why would anyone want Y/n anyway?”

“Careful King,” Tsukishima glared. “You’re on thin ice.”

“No, I’m on hardwood.” Kageyama said blankly, Suga clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle his laugh while he looked at Daichi who was looking up at the ceiling like he was ready for God to take him.

"Oooooohhh!!" Tanaka exclaimed, then smirked and slapped Tsukishima on the back. "So you're just as mad she is!"

"Why would I be?" He straightened back up, readjusting his glasses as Sugawara smiled.

"You are his boyfriend after all-"

Suddenly there was the sound of an arrow meeting its target, everyone in the gym looked and saw Nachi (the girl they had been talking about) nailed a bullseye. 

"Wow, you finally got it." Y/n congratulated, too caught up in the fact that he was being a good teacher and how he really was good at archery to notice the glare she gave the volleyball team. "Good job, Nachi."

The four first years, two seconds years, and the one third year were all close to the team when they were talking, and when the team looked at all of them, they all just nod in silent agreement. 

"She's crazy."

-------------

"Sooo… How long has she been friends with you, L/n-san?"

Hinata broke the thick ice of silence that took over the group as they all walked home, the club having ended and all going home now. 

"Maybe since I was… 8?"

"Wah-!" Kageyama slapped his hand over Hinata's mouth to keep him from yelling in Y/n's ears, letting someone else finish for him. 

"That's quite a while." Daichi finished, Y/n shrugging. 

"She's really only the one talking, I never really had any other friends."

"Wonder why…" Tsukishima let out of his mouth before he could stop it, getting a punch in the shoulder from Sugawara. Y/n laughed though, thinking it was a joke, which made Tsukishima smirk at his senior. 

"Yeah, she's… Her."

"Wow," Tsukishima drawed. "What an extensive vocabulary."

Y/n bows. 

"Thank you."

"So why do you still talk to her?" Ennoshita asked, jumping as all eyes went to him. "I mean, isn't it just normal to not talk to someone you don't like?"

"I just… Don't want to be mean." Y/n said once again, making Tsukishima roll his eyes. Y/n pushed on his shoulder and shook his head with a small smile.

“Of course you wouldn’t have trouble being mean.”

“Yeah, Tsukki is always mean.” Hinata said, flinching and put up his hands to protect himself as Tsukishima turned and glared down at him.

“She’ll get the hint soon enough.” Tsukishima said, which made Asahi flinch back and look at him in fear.

“You make it sound like you’ll kill her…”

All goes silent as they continue walking, no one saying a word after, not before Y/n jumps up and smacks Tsukishima on the back of the head.

“No killing!”

------------

“At lunch?” Y/n tilted his head in confusion. “I was going to have lunch with you anyway, but… is Yama-chan not coming?”

“No, I have to talk to you in private about something.” Tsukishima said, not hiding his voice at all. “Just meet me behind your archery gym, got it?”

Y/n, still confused, nods his head, finally going off to the group he was assigned to from a project in their class. Tsukishima looked out the corner of his eye and saw her, having known she was listening. He turned and gave her a fake smile, closing his eyes with ‘content’.

“Please don’t follow like the stalker you are making yourself out to be, it will ruin my appetite more than it already has.”

Nachi, having just been standing outside their classroom, swiveled on her feet with anger and stomped off. Both teens knew she was going to try and make it a coincidence she just ‘happened’ to be at their meeting place when they would talk, not that she was going to listen or anything.

Once lunch came around, Tsukishima made it very obvious they were going off to eat, totally aware of a jealous girl glaring daggers into his back.

Perfect.

Nachi had no idea what Tsukishima had been planning on talking about with Y/n, but she would not let it stand. She had said before, that these new ‘friends’ of Y/n’s were taking up her quality time with Y/n, and she didn’t like it at all. 

Nachi didn’t understand Y/n at all, one minute he’s hyper focused on something or a topic, then the next he’s spacing out or talking about something new. He was someone she couldn’t understand, but she liked it. She didn’t get why he would flinch at her voice or avoid her physical contact, but that’s what made him interesting. He wasn’t like other boys in her grade.

Now placed behind the gym, Tsukishima stood tall in front of a still very confused Y/n, all while a certain girl hid around the corner to eavesdrop.

“So… what is it you wanted to talk about?” Y/n asked, looking around and sweating a bit. “You’re making me all nervous.”

“I love you, Y/n.” Tsukishima said casually, as if it was as easy as breathing and not the first time he had ever mentioned the word love.

Y/n’s eyes went wide, mouth open and body stone still as his boyfriends words echoed in his head. It was silent between the two, before Y/n spoke in a quiet whisper.

“... What?”

“I love you,” Tsukishima said again, raising his brow. “Do I need to show you?”

Before Y/n could even begin to process what was happening, Tsukishima cupped his hands on Y/n’s face and leaned down, sweetly and gently connecting his lips to Y/n’s. Even though Y/n was still in a cloud of confusion and pure bliss, he quickly responded by holding on to Tsukishima’s uniform and returning the kiss tenfold.

With Y/n’s eyes closed, taking in the sweet romantic moment, he didn’t notice Tsukishima’s eyes were open and glazing behind Y/n at a girl who hid behind a corner. She was in shock, pure and utter shock, unable to admit this was happening.

Tsukishima then pulled apart from Y/n, looking down and seeing his flushed face, feeling the warmth of his cheeks on his hands. He smirked and raised a brow at Y/n.

“Not going to say it back?” He asked jokingly, but Y/n was far in his bliss.

“Say it again.” Y/n almosted sounded like he was begging, which made Tsukishims’s smirk wider.

“I love you, Y/n.”

Y/n’s lips formed a radiate smile as he looked up at Tsukishima.

“I love you too, Kei.” 

Y/n then leaned in and hugged Tsukishima with every bit of love in him and then some. Tsukishima hugging right back. Glazing back up at the corner, he now saw the girl no longer hiding and standing only a few feet away.

She looked angry, sad, horrified all at the same time, and Tsukishima’s response?

“How much do you love me?”

Y/m hummed into Tsukishima’s chest.

“To the moon and stars…”

“And?” Tsukishima pressed, watching as the girl began to shake in what he could only assume was anger.

“And even further beyond that,” Y/n looked up at Tsukishima, smiling when Tsukishima smiled back. “As the universe, my love is never ending.”

She was gone when Tsukishima looked back up, and he took this moment to actually soak in the embrace of his boyfriend.

“What was this all for anyway?” Y/n questioned, finally allowing them both to pull apart and begin to eat their lunch. “Not that I don’t like it, just… you aren’t like this in public.”

“Felt like it.” Tsukishima replied, beginning to eat while Y/n rolled his eyes.

“Well, if that’s all it takes,” Y/n turned and smiled at his boyfriend. “I hope you feel like it more often.”

[readingtherooms]

Vanilla

Summary: After a long day, you just want to lay down on the couch. Unfortunately, our resident genius got there first. 

Pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

Requested: nope!! just me being in love w baby spence

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff. 

Word Count: 1568

A/N: hey guys! sorry this is a little all over the place, but i thought it was cute. I wrote this with season 1 in mind, but it’s really up for interpretation. I don't currently have a taglist but I think i'm going to start one so let me know if you want to me on it! The moodboard below was made by me however the images are not mine!

It’s almost midnight, and the team is flying back to DC from Seattle. The case had ended well. (Y/n) should be relieved. She wasn’t. She had fought with her brother right before she left, and going home means she’s going to have to talk about it.

 “I’ve never been good at that. Talking. I much rather just hug it out, I've always been tactile”, she explains to JJ as she gets out of the car. 

Boarding the jet, everyone is welcomed by fluorescent lighting and the overwhelming essence of day old coffee. Spencer quickly makes himself at home on the couch, as Hotch and Gideon settle into a game of cards. (Y/n) tries to read, but after twenty minutes of staring at the same page, lost in her own head, she debates giving sleep a shot. She glances over at Spencer. He’s awake. 

“Is there any hope of me convincing you to give up the couch”, she mumbles as she sits down across from her best friend

“Is there any hope of me convincing you to come to the Jacques Delille convention with me on Saturday?” He quickly responded. (Y/n) sighed - her and Spencer had been friends at CalTech, long before she got the job with the BAU. Over the years, she grew quite fond of the eclectic conventions he would drag her to. She loved listening to Spencer go on his signature tangents, it gave her a chance to just listen. Not worry about being awkward or saying the wrong thing, like she did around most people. With Spencer, all she had to do was listen, and she loved it. Unfortunately, she was going to be spending her Saturday in a much less pleasant manner. 

“I already told you, I have to go to brunch with my brother” she groaned. 

He chuckled, “Well then I’m not moving”. 

“You know what, screw it” she thought to herself. She was tired, she kept getting caught up in her thoughts, and if she was being completely honest with herself, she was in desperate need of physical affection. 

“You don’t need to move” she stated bluntly.

“Wait, what?” Spencer responded, not even attempting to hide the surprise in his voice. He didn’t know (y/n) to go down without a fight.

“But you can’t stop me from laying on the couch” she countered. He responded only with a slight tilt of his head, and a look of confusion. (Y/n) stood up and walked over to where he had propped himself up. 

“Can I lay on you?” she half-whispered, her confidence starting to falter. 

“W-What?” he looked up at her with bewilderment in his eyes.

“Nevermind, it was a stupid idea.” She said, barely loud enough for him to hear. The fleeting confidence she had only moments ago, had completely drained out of her. She turned to walk towards the bathroom, attempting to escape the situation.

“Wait” he stopped her, despite still being perplexed by what she had just asked. “You can, uh, lay on me - if that's, uh, what you want.”  He clears his throat. 

“Are you sure?” (Y/n) responds, equally as flustered. He nods in response. 

After an uncomfortably long pause, she begins to lower herself onto the tan leather, leaning back as she does so. 

The next three minutes were chaotic to say the least, with neither of them not knowing exactly what to do. However, after those three, awkward, giggle filled minutes, (y/n) found herself lying between Spencer's legs, her head gently resting on his chest. She knew he wasn't always great with physical affection, she kept asking him if he was comfortable. He, in return, continued to reaffirm that he was, in fact, comfortable. 

A few more minutes went by, and soon (y/n) felt herself drift asleep, lulled by the soft fabric of his cardigan, and the gentle movements of his breath. 

Spencer, in contrast, was anything but peaceful. 

This just isn't the kind of thing that happened to him. Pretty girls don't just want to lay on him. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He had just about convinced himself that this was a dream, when (y/n) shifted slightly, snapping him back into reality. 

He was suddenly very conscious of his arms. He had them resting lightly over her shoulder blades, in a position which he originally thought to feel natural. Doubt started to wash over him, he had never really done this before. Despite Derek's mocking, he wasn't actually a virgin, but it was in that moment that he realized he had never actually cuddled before. What if his arms were in the wrong place? What if (y/n) is judging him? Wishing she had never asked to lay on him? 

He lifted his right arm off of (y/n), and managed to pull his cell phone out of his pocket without too much movement. He really didn't want to do this, but he honestly couldn't think of a better alternative. He cursed himself internally, and reluctantly opened his phone, tapping on his second contact - “Derek Morgan”

Spencer : Derek, please turn around. Do not make a scene. 

Spencer sees Derek's head whip around as he reads the message, eyes widening when he notices (y/n). Despite being fairly certain that she was asleep, Spencer shifts his arm so that his phone was out of her line of sight. 

Derek : MY MAN!!!!!

Spencer : Don’t be dramatic, I need help. 

Derek : Dramatic?! Help?! Man you’ve liked this girl since COLLEGE 

Spencer : Trust me, I know. However, what I don't know is how to do this.

Derek : Do what? Cuddle?

Spencer : Yes, where do I put my arms?

Derek : Dude, you just gotta be natural

Spencer : That is completely unhelpful. Are you aware who you are talking to? Yesterday you watched me walk into a door. 

Derek : Yes, and I got it on video. Alright I guess I’m going to have to coach you through this. 

Spencer : Yes please. 

Derek : You owe me

Derek : Okay, take your right hand, and set it right above her waist

Spencer : My right or your right?

Derek : The hand with your phone in it

Derek : Now, your left hand, set it parallel to your right hand

Spencer : Does this look right? 

Derek : You’re doing great loverboy, are you finally gonna ask her out? 

Spencer : Maybe. 

Derek leaned over the back of his seat, clearly taking a photo. Spencer furrowed his brow. 

Spencer : Why did you take a photo of us?

Derek : Penelope. 

Spencer chuckled to himself lightly. He felt much more at ease than he had five minutes ago. Scanning the jet, he noticed that Derek had gone back to staring out the window. Everything seemed at ease. Hotch was facing away from Spencer, with a passed out Gideon across from him. JJ and Elle were both sleeping across from Derek, JJ lying on the brunette’s shoulder. 

Then there was (y/n). She was so peaceful as she slept, Spencer found himself entranced by her. He tucked back a strand of hair that fell onto her nose, and he felt her hum lightly with contentment. She smelt like vanilla, she always has. It was more than just perfume though, she must use vanilla body wash, shampoo as well. Is it possible she’s been using the same body wash since college? 

That is how Spencer Reid fell asleep that night, with (y/n) in his arms, thinking about the smell of vanilla.

-

Two hours later, Spencer’s eyes slowly started to crack open. (Y/n) was awake, nestled into the crook of his neck. 

“Hey sleepyhead” she teased. She received only an incomprehensible mumble in return. She looked at her watch, 4 AM. 

“We’re going to land in about a half hour, so I’m going to untangle myself and hopefully avoid a disapproving look from Hotch” she whispered in his ear. She placed a kiss on his forehead, before leaving the couch and returning to her original chair. 

The kiss was so soft, so light, that Spencer wasn’t even sure that it was real. The morning light was just beginning to spill through the small jet windows, and he waited for his eyes to adjust, before escaping to the bathroom. He was desperately trying to process what had occured in the past few hours. His mind was flooded with questions. 

Does this mean she likes me like I like her? 

Did she just need the comfort of a friend?

Is Derek going to make a big deal out of this?

IS THIS a big deal?

Hotch was awake, was he watching us? Does he care?

How does she always smell like Vanilla?

He finally realized that he would never find answers to all these questions standing in the jet bathroom. He fixes his hair, and steps back outside. 

“Hey (y/n)?”

“What’s up Spence?” 

“How do you always smell like vanilla?”

(Y/n)'s face lit up, giggling at his question. Suddenly, all the questions in Spencer’s brain felt like they were melting away. 

“Everything’s going to be okay” he thought to himself.

Everything is going to be okay because (y/n) is sitting in front of me

She’s smiling 

That smile could grow roses in the desert. 

Everything is going to be okay because she’s sitting in front of me

She’s smiling 

She’s smiling and she smells like vanilla

Oh, how I love vanilla.