#andrew looks so precious and tiny and they love each other so much

[alittlefirebirdtoldme]

Daphne knew this was a day meant to celebrate fertility. She wasn't stupid. The men and the women of the guild would often greet each other coyly and if they wanted the gods to bless them with a baby, they slunk off into bedrooms and caravans and groves to do the holy and strange rituals adults did to make a baby.

She'd heard Uncle Andrew offer to make a woman a mother more than once on this day. So far, he'd never made good on his promise.

But she wasn't stupid. The humans used this day to celebrate their mothers for the love and guidance they gave year-round. For elves, it was about fertility; for humans, something more.

Maybe that was why she spent hours drawing and writing a card for Keres. Maybe that's why she was trembling as she approached her door. It stood ajar and Daphne could see Keres reading on the bed. The door must have been open for a reason or, more likely because it needed the hinges fixed again and it hadn't shut. Keres would think it was intrusive to watch her like this and Dad would think Daphne just needed to take a breath and take the plunge.

She walked in without knocking.

"I made something for you," she announced. "It's... It's Mother's Day, right? And I don't know too much about it except that, well, you celebrate the women who make you a better person, and for me, that's you. I just wanted you to know that... Keres, do you know that I love you? You don't have to be my mum if you don't want to, but I couldn't let today happen without..."

She thrust the card out for Keres to take.

"Happiest of Spring Rites and Mother's Days, Keres. May the Seladrine bless and keep you. I love you."

Dropping the card in Keres' hand, Daphne waited to be told how wrong she was. All the other children she knew had mums and dads - sometimes more than one of each - and she just had Keres. Daphne wasn't stupid, but gods, did she feel like she might have been, standing at that bedside and trembling in case Keres didn't want her love and she was better off just accepting that she didn't have a mum and no one wanted to be her mum. She tried to breathe and she could not look away.

"I- good morning, Daphne."

Keres hadn't been expecting to see the little girl until breakfast. While it wasn't unheard of for Daphne to enter her suite, she tried to guard the place quite jealously- a place she could relax her boundaries and feel as if she wasn't doing something wrong as if she would be contaminating the home with her imperfections. Daphne was always welcome, she tried to say as much, to encourage her to interrupt if she needed anything at all, but Keres was aware just as much as Daphne must have been how complicated it felt.

The card was a shock, and she couldn't hide her wide eyes as quickly as perhaps she should have. Keres had never expected to be someone's mother, not really. She knew... she knew like any other woman that when she married she'd be expected to parent her husband's children and to help him in the creation of as many heirs as delighted him, but deep down she had always expected to be a poor replacement for something lost, or a disappointment to her husband as he sought legacy.

She held it like it might break, might fade away into the ether and she might never see it again. Her sharp eyes roamed from detail to detail, brow furrowing over heartfelt words and the kind of effort it was hard to miss. This was... gods, she felt like crying. How could such a precious thing be thrust into her arms without warning?

But then too, hadn't Daphne been such a precious thing thrust into her arms? A tiny, precocious little elf with a burgeoning magical talent and the most observant eyes in all of Daggerford, a bundle of questions and joy and energy that neither she nor the girl's father had quite known what to do with? And hadn't she fallen in love with her just as quickly as this card became one of her prized belongings? Perhaps this, of all things, was correct. The way that Daphne was always meant to be.

Keres smiled sadly and pulled Daphne into her arms, hugging her tight and kissing her hair. She'd have done anything for this little girl- did she know that? The lengths that she would go to in order to protect her world and keep her smiling always?

"I love you too, Daphne my dear." She closed her eyes and pushed back tears, trying desperately to hide the cracking in her voice. "Any woman would be lucky to be your mother. I'm happy to be whatever you need or want me to be, do you understand? Happy and honored for the rest of my life to think that you believe I've had any hand in making you the truly remarkable young woman you're becoming. Happiest of Spring Rites, Daphne."

[cevansbrat0007]

Fantasies

Summary: You discover that Andy has been harboring a secret fantasy.

Warnings: Secret Fantasies, Smut, Kink Discovery, Lactation Kink, Hand Jobs, Slightly Dominant Reader, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt is courtesy of my friend @stonerlaur4. Part of my Growing Pains Series. Thanks for reading everyone and I look forward to your feedback. All mistakes my own.

___

“You’re doing it again.” You tell him from your spot opposite him at the dinner table. The girls were down for the night, which meant that you and your husband were finally able to share some quiet time together.

You’d even cooked up a special meal for you both to enjoy. Homemade crab cakes with a your special remoulade sauce, paired with crispy roasted garlic rosemary potatoes that had been slathered in butter and olive oil, along with his favorite cucumber, tomato, and onion salad.

Your Big Man smiles at you as he takes another bite of his crab cake. “Doing what?”

You roll your eyes and go back to eating.

“Is my girl blushing over there?”

Exasperated, you duck your head to hide your flaming cheeks. “No. And it’s certainly not because you keep looking at me the way you are. So cut it out.”

Andy leans back in his chair and graces you with a perfectly innocent smile.

“But honey, they’re just so beautiful. And they’re right there, just begging for my attention. What kind of man would I be if I denied them like that?” His mischievous blue eyes stray back to your chest.

At five months pregnant with your twins, not only were you most definitely showing, but your breasts continued grow on what seemed like a daily basis.

And just like with each of your previous pregnancies, your husband was fascinated with your increasingly ample chest. Just like with all of your other curves, he was always looking for any excuse to put his hands on you - kiss you, massage you, stroke you.

But there was one thing about Andrew Barber that hadn’t made itself known until after the birth of your first child, Bianca.

He loved with watching you feed your babies. In fact, you could almost say he was obsessed with it.

You had been blessed enough to be able breastfeed both of your little girls without having to resort to formula unless it was an emergency.

And while you’d fed both your girls throughout the day whenever they were hungry, their bedtime feedings always took place in bed with you snuggled next to your husband.

In the early days of taking care of a newborn BiBi, he would often ask if she was “getting enough”.

You had laughed before encouraging to lean down and listen for himself. So he had. Your big, sweet husband had held himself suspended in the air listening intently to each tiny gulp as his baby girl ate her dinner. But it hadn’t stopped there…

You would eventually learn that your husband craved more.

___

A Little Over Six Years Ago…

You stare down at your precious baby who had fallen asleep in your arms after nursing. Smiling, you smooth a stray curl from her tiny face as she coos out a tiny breath.

For some reason, BiBi hadn’t eaten as much as she normally did. She usually took both breasts with ease, but when it had become time to shift to her to the second one, she had flat out refused.

Andy emerges from the shower clad in nothing more than a pair of black, form fitting boxers. He quickly slides into bed next to you. Today had been a late one at the office, so he’d only just gotten home.

“Is she still eating?” He asks hopefully.

“Afraid not, honey. We’ve lost her to baby dreamland.” You lean over and kiss his shoulder.

Mmm…your man smelled good. Like sandalwood and vanilla.

“Aw. Well, did she at least eat well?” He strokes one large thumb across her little lips.

“Nope. She only took one breast tonight. Guess that means I’ll be pumping.” Your tone filled with resignation.

It wasn’t that you hated pumping…you just sometimes kind of hated pumping. But hey, it brought relief, so oh well.

You smile over at your husband. “Wanna help me put her down?” You ask him.

“What kind of question is that?” Andy hops out of bed, gently plucks her from your arms and gazes down at her. “Swear to God, this little one grows more beautiful everyday. Just like her Mama.”

He shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts.

“Bedtime ladies.” He murmurs softly. Resting your hand on his firm, broad back you make your way to BiBi’s nursery where Andy places her in her crib.

“Good night, little love.” You whisper to her slumbering form.

“Sweet dreams.” Your husband tells her, before stepping back to check under crib.

Oh God, you think to yourself, not this again.

“Andy…” You resist the urge to laugh at him. He does a complete scan around the room. And then he quietly opens her closet door and checks inside.

Yes. He was checking your child’s room for monsters. Just in case.

“All clear.” He tells you, his face completely serious. You hold your hand out to him. “You’re a lunatic.

“You knew this when you married me, Y/N. So no givebacks.”

___

Once your back in your room, Andy climbs into bed while you go about grabbing the supplies you needed for your pump.

“What are you, um, doing over there?” He leans over on his side to face you, his sexily bearded face propped up on his hand.

You give him a weird look. “You already know what I’m doing, Andy. I have to pump. If I don’t, is gonna get painful or start to leak or…

You trail off when you realize that yep…you were already leaking. “See?” You point to your left breast.

Andy’s gaze zeroes in on the slowly dribbling fluid. He’d always been too afraid to ask, but tonight…

“Baby?” He whispers softly.

“Hmm?”

“Can I maybe? Is it okay if I, um…”

“What?”

A warm hand goes to your still slightly rounded belly as his mouth goes lap at the drops of the translucent milk. And he doesn’t stop until he’s licked you clean.

Pulling away, he looks you in your eyes.

“Sorry, it’s just, um, I had always wondered what it tasted like - sweet by the way. And Laurie always thought I was weird for wondering but -“

“Hush.” You cut him off. “I’ll admit you took me by surprise, but…do you wanna try it? I mean really try it?”

“You’d let me?” His eyes stray back to your swollen bare breasts. This had always been a fantasy of his…

You scoot to the middle of the bed and motion for him to kind of curl up in your lap. Picking up your full breast, you offer one engorged nipple to his mouth, which he eagerly accepts.

“Okay, Big Man. Now, I need you to suck.” He gently begins to do so. “Apply a little more force.” You gently massage and squeeze your breast, hoping to aid in the flow.

And then you hear him swallow. “Are you getting any, Andy?”

“Mhm.” He groans as he takes another gulp. And then another.

You stroke your fingers through his dark brown locks, softly scratching his scalp, which makes him moan in bliss. As one hand continues to cup the back of his head, you allow the other to roam all over his big, muscled body. You stroke every inch of bare skin that you can reach as he continues to suckle at you.

This felt so different than the intimate moment when you fed your child. It was for sure a bonding experience.

But in it’s own unique way, so was this.

“Taste good?”

He nods, never letting up. His eyes remaining closed. You stroke a hand across his chin. And then you take note of bulge in his boxers. You knew, that he knew, that you had to have noticed it. Your man was the type who was big all over -

How could you miss it?

Not wanting him to feel embarrassed, you reach down to cup his impressive erection, giving it a light squeeze. His own large hand moves to cup yours.

He keeps suckling, never letting up. At this rate, you wouldn’t need the pump.

You gently begin to stroke him, applying various amounts of pressure each time. Andy was seconds from exploding and you both knew it.

His pull at your breast becomes harder as he gets closer to the brink.

“That’s it, Andrew. You’re safe with me, Big Guy.” He lets out a soft grunt. “Cum for me. Wanna see it.”

That’s all it takes for him to shoot his load directly into his shorts. After a few last suckles, he releases your nipple with a pop.

“You okay?”

Your husband nods still trying to catch his breath.

“You’ve been holding onto that fantasy for a long time, haven’t you, honey?”

He nods again, shame creeping into his features.

“Oh no! None of that. Like I said, you’re safe with me. Plus you’re not the only one who got a little excited here.” You dip your hand between your thighs and hold up two glistening fingers.

“You never have to be ashamed with me. Now go clean up. Now that you’ve, err, helped me out. I’m sleepy and I need cuddles.

Still blushing, Andy rolls out of bed to take care of business.

Well, it looks like your Andrew Barber was just full of surprises.

END

[rowyn-writes]

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Three

Warnings: language, fluff, mentions of a toxic relationship, small angst

Characters: Dean, Reader, Benny Lafitte (mentioned only)

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Dean let you sit in his car until the rain let up a bit. "God, I hate the rain." He grumbled.

"I love it." You whisper, your eyes wandering the parking lot. "When I was younger, and there was a thunderstorm, me and my siblings would make a fort and huddle underneath it together. We loved it when the power would go out. We would light candles and grab flashlights and play board games in the dark. Sometimes Andrew would read to us. But uh - it would be scary stories," You smiled. "He would scare the ever living crap out of us. Lena and Josh would would cuddle into my side, no matter how much I hated it, they would still do it."

"You really love your siblings." Dean noted, swallowing hard, memories of Sam flooding his head.

"I do." You nodded. "They're all I have. Sure, I have my parents, but it's not the same, you know? Growing up, my siblings and I fought like dogs and cats, but we knew each other better than anyone, even our parents. Even when I go months without seeing them, when we all get together, it's like we're still little kids, ya know? We goof around, we argue, we joke. It's like none of us ever grew up."

Dean stayed silent for a moment, and you weren't sure if your message was getting across. "Look, I know we don't know each other very well, but what I'm trying to say is, call your brother. I don't know what happened between you two, but it's obvious that you love him. You shouldn't waste all your time worrying about whether you should contact him first or if he's angry with you. Time is a precious thing and people often waste it."

"Damn, you're wise." Dean gave a quiet chuckle. "But you're right. I will call him soon, I'm just not ready yet." And with that, the Impala was enveloped in silence again. That is, until Dean's stomach let out a loud rumble. "Sorry," He apologized with a sheepish grin.

"Don't worry about it." You shrugged. "It looks like the rains letting up. Do you want to come inside and I can fix you some food?"

"Oh, I don't want to impose." He shook his head.

"Nonsense. You gave me a ride home, this is the least I can do."

Dean silently debated whether or not he should take you up on the offer, but ultimately agreed, seeing as he was starving. By the time you were under cover, you were both soaked.

As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, you were met with a warm blast of heat. A pleasant shiver ran down your spine.

You began to click your tongue, calling out for your moody cat. "Storm, c'mere buddy." Your cat glared at you stubbornly from his place on the window seal. You rolled your eyes, slipping off your jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair.

"Sorry," You apologized to Dean. "My cat's being a little bitch." The man let out a laugh at your comment. "I gave him a bath and clipped his claws yesterday; now he's pissed at me."

"How in the hell do you cut a cat's nails?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Very carefully." You noticed that Dean was shivering. "Let me grab you a towel. I think I have some of my exes clothes. You're about the same size."

He was going to object when you silenced him with a look. You went to your room and began rummaging around in your draws, eventually finding a pair of black sweat pants and a grey hoodie.

"Try this," You said, handing Dean the clothes. "They should fit. You can change in the bathroom; it's the first door on the right."

While Dean went to change, you did the same. You exited your bedroom dressed in a pair of black leggings and a UK sweatshirt.

You noticed that Dean still wasn't out yet, so you went to start some food. You contemplated on what you should cook before ultimately deciding that mac and cheese would do. It was a comfort food, after all.

It would take a bit longer than usual, since you were making it from scratch, but Dean had said earlier that he had nowhere to be.

"Smells good in here." Dean noted when he walked out of the bathroom. Seeing him in Michael's clothes made your heart stop for a second, and not in a good way.

Dean and Michael had many similarities, the hair color, height, demeanor, etc. And you didn't want to be reminded of that man.

"Thanks," You said nonchalantly. "It's nothing special, but I thought you'd like it."

"So," Dean started, leaning against the counter. "This is a nice little set up you've got here."

"It's not much, but it's home." You shrugged as you stir the pot of noodles. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Storm sneaking around the corner of the kitchen, hoping for some food or a treat.

"How long have you lived here?" Dean asked.

"About five years." You informed him. "Ever since I turned eighteen I've been living on my own."

"How come?"

"You know the thing parents always say? 'As long as you live in my house, you follow my rules'? Well, I didn't like their rules so I got myself this apartment and I've lived here ever since."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, my old man was like that too. I actually did the same thing as you did. 'Cept I came back 'bout a week later." He laughed. "I was too dependent on my dad and brother. I have never lived alone before then; and to be honest, I hate living by myself. I still do."

"You never got roommates?"

"I had a few. There was Mick and Cas. Of course, I can't forget Benny." He grinned. "But they're all gone now."

"Benny?" You mumbled. "As in Benny Lafitte?"

"Yeah, why? You know him?"

"Do I?" You rolled your eyes. "That idiot's my cousin."

"Really?" Dean said excitedly. "I haven't heard from him in ages, how's he doing?"

"He's loving by the coast, and the last I heard, he met some girl named Andrea and he is head over heels in love."

"That's great." Dean smiled. "I really happy for him."

"Yeah, I expect to get an invitation to his wedding so enough. The way he talks about her, you would think he's known her his entire life."

"That's sweet. Benny seems like the guy that falls hard after one date."

"Oh yeah, he definitely is." You giggle. "He calls me after one date and says, 'Y/N, I think I'm in love. If I sent you a picture of a wedding ring, would you look at it and tell me what you think?'"

"No way!" Dean laughed.

"Yes! I had to talk him down from buying an engagement ring! I told him to wait for a year and a half, and then revisit the subject of marriage. Times almost up and he's still fawning over her. But I'm happy for him, he definitely deserves this."

You sprinkled bread crumbs on top of the Mac and cheese before popping it in the oven for a few minutes.

"You put break crumbs on your mac and cheese?" Dean questioned.

"You don't?"

"Never tried it." He shook his head.

"You caveman." You sighed. "I will just have to train you." Dean gave a harmonious laugh, which, in turn, made you laugh as well.

You grabbed a towel and pulled the mac and cheese out of the oven. You scooped some onto a plate and handed it to Dean. Both of you sat down at your small kitchen table and began to dig in.

"Oh my god." Dean said, his mouth full with food. "That is the best mac and cheese I've ever had."

"See? Told you it would be good."

"I'll never doubt you again." He mumbled as he shoveled more into his face.

You ate in a comfortable silence until there was a knock at your door. "I'll be right back." You told Dean as you opened the door.

"Mr. Pierce." You said nervously. "What can I help you with?" You knew what he wanted. And you sure as hell didn't have it.

"You're behind on rent, Y/N. I need the money, or I'll have no choice but to evict you." You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"I-I don't have it right now. My hours have been cut and I-"

"I'm sorry, Y/N. You're a good girl, but I need someone who will lay rent on time every month. I really hate to do this, but I want you out in two weeks."

"I-It's okay, Mr. Pierce," You assured him shakily. "I understand." And with that, he was gone. You gave a shaky breath as you leaned on the door.

"Y/N?" Dean called, approaching the living room. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I will be." You nodded.

"What happened?" Dean questioned gently.

"I just got my eviction notice." You deadpanned. Dean's mouth popped open in shock. "I have to be out in two weeks."

"Crap, sweetheart. I'm sorry. What are you going to do?"

"Couch surf for a while, maybe? I know Jo will let me stay with her for a couple of days, but if her landlord catches me there, he'll throw her out too."

"What about your parents?"

You gave a cold laugh. "No, they'll never let me come home. I would stay with my older brother, but he's overseas right now. So honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do."

Dean stayed silent for a moment before speaking up. "You could come live with me." He suggested.

"Dean, I really appreciate the offer, but I can't impose on you like that."

"It's okay," He assured you. "I have an extra bedroom. And it's not imposing if I'm asking. Besides, like I said before, I hate living on my own."

"Dean, we barely know each other." You tried to reason.

"Hi, my name is Dean Winchester, I'm an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women." You let out a loud laugh. "There, now you know more about me."

"Dean-"

"Just think about it. If you can't find anywhere else to live, my door's always open. I have to go, but here's my number," He said, writing down his phone number on a sticky note. "If you need anything, call me." Dean gave you a small smile before he walked out the door.

You flopped on the couch, staring up at  ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live wYou flopped on the couch, staring up at  ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live with Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."ith Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tag List:

Cinnamon and Sugar Tags

@vicmc624 @lovememisha @supernatural-jackles @laycblack

Dean Tags:

@akshi8278​

And if anyone else wants to be added to any tag list, let me know!

[hurting-fictional-people]

Ball

CW: burning/branding, noncon/dubcon touching and kissing, mention of past torture, vomit mention (it doesn’t actually happen), implied noncon

Before

Her dress was beautiful. Made of emerald green silk that complemented the red of her hair, a V neck descending to the middle of her breasts, a flowy skirt that lightly touched the ground, a tight bodice. Her hair fell down her back in loose waves, only half of it pulled up and braided with tiny pearls that sparkled when the light hit them. She knew she was stunning. It was hard for anything to feel good at the moment, but being pretty again was almost nice.

“Have I told you that you look dazzling tonight, precious?” Blake whispered, lips touching her ear, hand brushing the small of her back. She held back a whimper.

“We are going to play a little game tonight, Kiara”, he declared, grinning. His expression would be childish if his eyes didn’t gleam with wickedness.

“Wha-what are you talking about?”.

His smile widened as he opened a drawer and pulled out something that looked suspiciously like a fireplace poker, but with a larger tip. She started shivering when he placed its tip among the flames of the hearth and winked at her.

Kiara tried to take a deep and calming breath, but all she really did was bite her lip till she felt copper coating her tongue, hoping it would help her keep her face from frowning.

“Please” she mumbled, her voice so low she doubted he could hear it. But he did. He always did.

“You look pretty when you try not to squirm” was all he said, chuckling softly, pressing his hand against her back. The touch wasn’t especially harsh, yet her breathing hitched and she tried to arch away from him just to stop when she heard him tutting. “Remember our game, sunshine. I would love to meet that sweet brother of yours, but I don’t think you would like our get together as much as I would”.

She scanned the room as discreetly as she could, desperately wishing for someone to see the fear and hurt in her eyes, but the only looks she received were aimed straight at her boobs.

They had just got to the party, but she already felt faint.

“Let’s go greet some of my business partners, shall we?” Blake said gleefully. Kiara tried to focus on not passing out as she let him push her towards a group of men in front of the drinks table.

He was almost jumping up and down when the iron turned red. She was almost vomiting when he showed it to her. The tip of it was shaped like letters. Kiara started begging as soon as she realized what was going to happen.

“Please, please don’t do it. I promise I’ll do anything you want, just- just please don’t”.

Blake didn’t even bother responding as he opened the chain that kept her ankle linked to the wall. She was suddenly yanked from the corner in which she’d been sitting and dragged to the middle of the room. He dropped Kiara right where his center table usually stood, and she understood then why he’d moved it away. She wished she didn’t. She tried to run, but before she could take even a step away, he grabbed her by the waist and pushed her stomach against the ground.

It had been a while since she’d tried to fight him, but looking at the burning iron turning crimson among the flames, she screamed and thrashed, panic making tears fall down her cheeks and turning her movements desperate.

“Stop it, Kiara” Blake bellowed, annoyed. She couldn’t see his face with hers pressed to the ground, but she recognized the tone. He sat on her back, putting all his weight on her till she couldn’t breathe. “Hold still or it’ll be worse”.

“Ple-ease! Blake stop, please, please, p-please”.

“Hold still for me, my precious”.

“Blake!” exclaimed a tall man with blond hair “It’s been too long, my friend”.

“It really has, Andrew”, Blake said, grinning as he shook the man’s hand with the one that’d been pressing against Kiara’s back. She held back a relieved sigh when he took it away.

He proceeded on greeting each one of the men there, commenting on their families or hobbies. She kept her eyes on the floor, wishing to disappear. Unfortunately, neither her stillness nor her wishes kept her from being seen.

“And who is this kitten?” asked the one named Andrew. She only knew it was her he was talking about because suddenly Blake was back at her side and his fingers grazed the bare skin of her back right above where the fabric of the dress ended, right before where the burn started.

“This is Kiara”, Blake said, beaming. “The love of my life”.

She smiled too, hoping it looked real. Knowing it didn’t.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart”, said another one of his friends, one with a long black beard and malice in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t think she is very pleased with you, Blake”, remarked Andrew, narrowing his eyes with amusement.

She went instantly rigid and forced her eyes to wrinkle and her smile to widen. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. The ball is absolutely lovely” she stated, willing her voice to sound sweet but firm.

“I’ve been keeping her awake a lot these last nights” Blake joked, winking. All of the men laughed, and she let out the breath she'd been holding ever since he tightened his grip on her waist.

Blake had done a lot to her already. Whipped, drowned, kicked, punched, choked, chained, starved. She’d lost count of all the torments she’d faced, but he had never burned her before. So, when he tore the back of her shirt open and pressed the scorching iron to her lower back, there was nothing she could’ve done to prepare herself.

It was a literal hell. There was no thought, no scream, no tears, no nothing in the world. It was only pain. So vast, so deep, everything faded away.

She went limp at some point. Maybe she passed out, but she couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t be sure of anything but the blazing pain. When she came back to herself, her head was on Blake’s lap, and he ran his fingers through her sweaty hair. Her entire body trembled, and she was in so much pain all she could do was cry soundless tears. Kiara didn’t try to pull away or ask what he’d done. Didn’t have the energy to do anything other than weep. Not even sob, for when she did, her body moved, and it burned.

“So precious” Blake purred, fingers tracing the shape of her ear. “You were so strong for me, my little sunshine”.

“Please”, she moaned weakly. Kiara didn’t even know what she was begging for, but it hurt and she needed it to stop, and she hated his voice and his words and his hands touching her.

Blake chuckled. “Please what, precious?”.

“It hurts”.

“I know it does. It will for some time. But it was so worth it. I truly loved your little noises of pain. They were everything” he said as if that should appease her somehow. If anything, it made her cry harder.

“Please, make it stop” she sobbed, wincing when the movement sent a new wave of pain through her body “Please, Blake, make it stop, I can’t, I can’t take it. Please.” her voice was low and hoarse from screaming, and it hurt to even speak, but her back was pure agony and she couldn’t think right.

“Let’s talk about our game, and then I’ll make it stop” he assured. She closed her eyes and nodded, even though she knew whatever game it was, she was probably better off with the burn.

There were at least three hundred guests at the ball, scattered around the penthouse. People flirted and laughed, chatted, and joked. Kiara used to adore parties. She loved to dress up, feel like a goddess, and spend an entire night drinking and dancing. She would have loved that ball if it weren’t for her captor by her side and the dizziness making her vision blur.

She had to stay awake. Had to resist the burning pain that spread from her back to her entire body. Kiara had never been a good actress, but fear was as good a fuel as any. The smile she glued on her lips was kind and dumb enough to keep most people away, the wrinkles she forced her eyes to form hid the pain behind them and added up to the pleasant expression. Her back was as straight as a stick, but that had nothing to do with the act.

“Drink up” Blake ordered, extending a martini glass to her. There was nothing she could do other than nod and take the glass, taking a small sip hoping it would be enough to please him. The pain only increased with each passing minute and she worried she might vomit at any time.

His dark eyebrows shot up, the warning there so clear she shivered and took a longer sip. Blake continued to stare, though, so she gritted her teeth and drained it. He smirked.

“Good girl” he praised, then brushed his hand against her burnt back and took her to another group of people. She breathed in deeply and smiled through teary eyes as she was introduced to a bunch of new people. One lady came in for a hug, and she clenched her teeth so tightly to avoid screaming she was sure the woman heard it.

“Tonight I’m throwing a ball”, Blake said, playing with a strand of her hair. “You are going to be my date”.

“You burned me” she hissed furiously “Why would I ever go to a ball with you?”.

“It’s cute how you can’t even talk above a whisper and still has the nerve to defy me” he sighed playfully. She hated that she knew his moods just by hearing him sigh, but she did. “Now, back to what I was saying. You are going to be my date, and I’ll introduce you to all of my friends as my gorgeous, loving girlfriend”.

Kiara would have laughed, weren’t it for how bad she was hurting and how feeble she felt. Still splayed on her stomach on the ground, limbs heavy and shaky, she could only snort to show her exasperation.

“You see, I found a charming little house on a really cozy street last night. I even took a picture of it, let me show you”. She opened her eyes to find a cell phone in front of her face, and in it a picture of a two-story house made of red bricks, with plants by the windows and a low white fence in front of it. Dread filled her as she stared at the picture, at the house she knew all too well. “It’s really pretty, don’t you think? I thought about buying it, but the owner might not want to sell it. Maybe I should just kill him and take the house”.

“Please”, she choked out, “please don’t hurt him”.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she rolled to her side so she could look him in the eye. A cry escaped her lips when her back shifted, and a tear slipped from her eyes, but she only stopped when she could see his face. Her head was still on his lap, but pride was something she hadn’t known for a while now.

“Play the sweet obedient girlfriend at my ball and your brother will be left untouched. Fail, and I’ll decide if I shall bring him here to make you watch as I kill him or if I’ll force you to do it yourself”.

“I’ll do anything. Just, just please leave him alone” she promised, “I’ll go to your ball, pretend to b-be your girlfriend, as long as you don’t come near him”.

“We have a deal, then”, Blake said with a smirk. His hand found hers and brought it to his lips. He placed a chaste kiss on her palm and then started playing with her fingertips. “Do anything and everything I tell you to, and I’ll keep my distance”.

Kiara nodded, and when he helped her to stand up, she leaned into him, letting Blake support her weight while he rubbed something soothing on her back with far more force than needed. She shrieked against his shoulder and clutched his shirt while he tended to her burn, thinking of her brother the whole time, promising herself she would not let Blake near him. She would die before she let him touch Arthur.

“You seem kinda pale, love”, said an old lady, squeezing Kiara's hand, “do you need to go outside for a bit?”.

One look from Blake and she knew what she had to answer. “Thank you, but I really am okay. I think I overdid it on the makeup. It’s my first ball, you see? I wanted to look nice”.

“Oh, I get it” she giggled, patting Kiara’s shoulder. Even that sent a twinge of pain down her body. She smiled rigidly. “Especially with such a handsome boyfriend, eh? Gotta always look pretty for your man”. She grimaced internally but barely registered what the woman was saying as she swayed slightly.

Kiara really needed to sit down. She could feel the bandage stuck to the blazing skin of her back, the burn at the precise spot for the dress to cover it perfectly and for Blake to casually touch it at any time just to watch her trying to conceal a gasp or to remind her of what was at stake if she did as much as annoy him. It was getting harder to stand upright, smile, and talk as if there was nothing wrong. She felt her skin clammy and her legs trembling. If she didn’t sit in the next few minutes, she might actually pass out right there.

She took one step towards Blake, but even that was too much, especially with the high heels he’d made her wear. She stumbled and would’ve fallen down if he hadn’t moved so fast, catching her before anyone noticed what had almost happened.

“I need to sit”, she breathed, letting him support her weight. He held her by the waist, and his entire arm pressed on the burn. Kiara bit her already bruised lip and buried her face against his shoulder to muffle a pained whine. “I’m feeling faint”.

“People are looking at us” he crooned, low enough that only Kiara could hear it “I guess you just don’t love your brother as much as I thought, since you are doing such a poor job as my girlfriend”.

She closed her eyes and counted ten seconds to collect herself, hugging Blake as if he was someone she didn’t feel disgusted by. When she moved away, everyone was staring at them.

Kiara cleared her throat and straightened up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing herself not to flinch as he held her tighter.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m just so nervous”, she said, quietly enough for it to sound like she was addressing only him, but high enough for everyone close by to overhear. She looked up through her lashes and smiled timidly, then moved closer and kissed his lips. Blake stiffened for a moment before opening his mouth and kissing her passionately. Kiara had intended for it to be just a brush of lips, but she couldn’t back away now in front of everyone. He tightened his grip on her back and she moaned softly against his mouth, the sound swallowed by him before anyone else could hear it. When he finally let her go, she couldn’t bring herself to smile anymore, so she looked away from him, to the crowd watching them shamelessly. She gave them an embarrassed nod and started towards the tables.

Blake caught her hand a moment later and changed the route to the gambling area. Kiara shuddered but didn’t complain. As long as she could sit, she would do anything.

“Nicely played, sunshine” he mouthed into her ear. She pretended not to hear it.

Blake sat down at a poker table and pulled her onto his lap, forcing her back to press against his stomach. She bit back a cry and tried to think of her brother as she was introduced to more of Blake’s friends.

He started playing, and she pretended to not be in pain, or scared, or despondent. She pretended she wasn’t sitting on the lap of her captor, her torturer, the man who had taken so much from her. Who had taken everything from her.

As he went on chatting, gambling, and laughing, she pretended there wasn’t a burn crossing her lower back with his name on it.

[ownedbytexbikerdom]

It was a regular day, or so she thought. Jane had just gotten back from work and was absolutely spent. Exhausted. Wiped out.

She was rather looking forward to spending the evening with Christian, her Sir. Maybe they’d take the dogs for a long walk outside of town. Maybe she’d get started on a three course meal. Maybe they’d invite some friends over and play games. The opportunities were endless really.

She hangs her jacket, takes off her shoes and notices that Christian’s already home. There was his briefcase, his peacoat. Weird. Usually she got home before he did.

But no matter.

She walked up the stairs, wondering why there wasn’t a flurry of wagging tails and lolling tongues to greet her.

She saw soon enough.

There he was. In all his glory, sitting at the table. An elbow propped on the mahogany surface, the sleeves rolled up, the first two buttons undone, on his white button up.

She could feel it emanating off him. The precious space between her legs, moistening. And he hadn’t even done anything yet.

“Take off your clothes, get on your knees, and crawl to me.”

“Yes Sir.” A whispered response. Her words shook with arousal, with anticipation.

She let her plans for the evening fly out the window, waving them goodbye. She slowly took off her top. She slowly spun around, bent at the waist, and slid off her pants. She wriggled her ass for him. Swaying side to side as she pulled down her panties.

She heard his low groan of approval cut through the air. The air itself thick with sexual tension. She swallowed hard, throat drying. She unclasped her bra; with a muffled thud, it hit the floor.

She lifted her gaze to meet his. She got down on all fours, her expression changing from giddy anticipation, to one of complete submission.

And that is what got him. He fucking loved that. When he can read it in her eyes that she is willing to do whatever he says. That vulnerability, that trust, is what makes the member confined to his slacks, stiffen.

He straightened in his chair, eyes following the lovely creature before him, inching closer and closer towards him.

Once she settled between his legs, he starts to stroke her hair, “I built something for you. It’s why I’ve been so busy lately. I wanted it to be perfect, and I believe that it is. Do you want to see?”

Of course she did.

He smiled, reaching back for the collar on the table behind him. He fastened it over her neck, hearing her sigh contently as he tightened it. He took the chain leash, clipped it onto the ring, and stood up.

Without another word he walked down the hall. Slowly, so she wouldn’t have issues keeping up. He walked down the stairs, subtly looking back to make sure she kept her stature.

Of course she did.

They reached the basement, and that is when he pulled out the blindfold; the satin ribbon of black, and placed it over her eyes.

She could hear his breathing quicken. Feel a slight tremor to his touch. He was excited. Almost uncontainably so.

She tilted her head in silent wonder. She had not a clue what it could possibly be.

She felt her leash tug forward. She followed, her curiosity begging her to rip off the blindfold. She wouldn’t of course. That would ruin the surprise.

She felt him halt and sat on her ankles. She felt him unhook the leash. She felt his hands move to the back of her head, undoing the ribbon.

She beheld his surprise. It was a cross. St. Andrew’s Cross is she recalled correctly. Boards held together in an ‘x’ formation. Cuff links for her wrists and ankles screwed on.

She took it all in. Having conflicting feelings. Of course she loved it. Of course she was so grateful of all the time, all the effort, that he had put into this.

But at the same time…should they use this consecrated symbol to play on, would that not be a form of desecration? Her heart started to thud against her chest. Her mind spinning.

She touched the cross on her collar. She had the same feelings when he had chosen it. And she wore it with pride. She wouldn’t have rather he picked any other.

Maybe it would be the same with this. It’s not like she would be imitating the death of her Saviour. She would never reenact that. She would never let that be used in their play. He knew this as well as she did.

Which is why, he went with the traditional ‘x’ that is so often used in the bdsm world. But, in all this he knew what kind of thoughts would run through her mind. He knew she’d be hesitant. Should she be adamant that she can’t incorporate the cross into their scenes, he would understand completely. It had been a risk he’d been willing to take. If worse came to worse, he would simply put it up for sale for somebody else to enjoy.

He decided to push it along with a simple command, “Stand up, and put your hands, your ankles in their positions.”

She didn’t look at him as he spoke the words. The words with no room for question. The words with no room for refusal.

She bit her lip and stood. Fiddling with her fingers, thoughts racing. She was trying to make a snap decision.

He refrained from giving her a gentle nudge towards his creation. Instead, he watched that beautiful mind work. He watched her eyebrows twitch, watched her foot tap. And finally, watched with delight as she took a shaky, uncertain step towards the cross.

One step that became two. This time more confident. And another. He watched her head lift. Her chin up, jaw set, eyes narrowed. She had made up her mind and nobody could change it. He knew the expression well. She could be a stubborn ass if she so wanted.

With a steeling breath she lifted her arms, spread her legs, and waited.

Beaming, he took striding steps over to her. Delicately placing her wrists into the cuffs, tightening them, clasping them.

He brought his hands around to the straps he had installed on the back. Straps for her biceps. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could struggle herself out of almost anything. These were just a precaution against that from happening.

She raised an eyebrow, a blush creeping into her cheeks. She knew the reason why he needed those extra straps.

He saw the expression and paused to brush his lips against hers. His hands lingered over her body. Tweaking her nipples, grazing down her smooth abdomen. He could hear her near silent squeaks. See her muscles twitch, the hair on her arms raising.

He let his hands drop and crouched to strap down her legs and ankles. But before doing so, he couldn’t resist. Couldn’t resist giving her sweet femininity a kiss. More than a kiss. He ran his tongue up and down the length of that beautiful slit. He sucked gently on her precious button sitting up top. Flicking his tongue gently around it, he heard her moan, “Ohhh Christian…that fucking tongue…”

A quiet giggle tickled his ears, so he kept going. Not with his usual, tactful vigour. No. He kept it sweet, kept it gentle, kept her giggling and moaning. He was building her up. Teasing her for the torture she was about to endure.

Unbeknownst to Jane of course.

He finally withdrew, much to her chagrin. She was already sloppy and wet. Her pretty cunt begging for more. Later. He silently promised.

He clasped in her ankles, strapped down her thighs, and took a step back. He smiled in admiration, took his phone out and snapped a picture. She still had that desperate look on her face. Her pussy was still glistening, both with arousal and his saliva. Fucking beautiful.

“Now, my pet. Now we will begin, and here are the rules. You are not allowed to cum. Under any circumstances…you are not. allowed. to cum. Do you understand?”

A distressed whimper escaped her lips, “Yes Sir…”

“Good girl.”

And then he began. He started with a tiny vibrator. It looked like a clip, she had never seen it before. He put on end inside of her, easy to do because she was fucking soaked. The other end rested perfectly on her clit.

Her jaw dropped. Her body started to writhe. And he hadn’t even turned it on yet. He laughed, using the remote to turn it to a lower setting.

Instantly she was moaning. Her legs flexing and relaxing at the stimulation. Her breathing sped, her mind draining of all coherent thought.

He smirked and went to his special drawer of goodies. A drawer she had been forbidden to snoop in. He brought out a chain with two clamps attached at each end.

Her eyes were shut in building ecstasy so she didn’t see. She did, however, notice the second he attached one of them to her nipple.

She gasped sharply, yelping at the sudden spark of pain. Her eyes snapped open, her pretty mouth twisting in a grimace as he attached the other.

“Come on babe…I thought you were a 12/10?”

She snarled at the reference and forced a haughty arrogance to mask her face, “I am.”

He pulled on the chain, her nipples stretching painfully, causing her mind to split in confusion. She wanted to whimper at the jolts of pain, but she wanted to moan sweetly as the vibrations down below continued its merciless assault.

Her body shook, she tried to keep from wincing. Tried to keep any sound from escaping her throat. But that failed drastically when he used his other hand to turn the vibration up. In a rapidly pulsing sequence.

He tugged a little harder, just long enough to elicit a scream. A scream of sheer frustration. If she wanted to, she could cum already. It never takes her long.

He upped the ante and dropped the chain. With no warning whatsoever, he slid two fingers inside of her. The invasion pushed the other end of the vibrator against that particular spot. The particular spot that was his favourite to claim.

He started to pump his fingers in, out, in, out. His other hand holding the vibrator on her clit in place.

It was almost impossible for her to keep the orgasm at bay. To keep it roiling and riling; an angry beast confined to a cage.

Her body thrashed as each time his fingers went back inside her, it would push the vibrator against her gspot and send her to space with overwhelming need.

He watched her face. Watched her eyebrows scrunch together as she fought against herself. Watched the beads of sweat form on her forehead. Her nails bit into her palms. Her teeth grit together.

It was taking every ounce of self control she had not to cum right then and there.

He decided to try and break it. Break her will. He took the remote and maxed it out. Turned it to the highest, setting. The setting with two second pauses for every seven seconds of vibrating.

Another scream. A plea this time. A plea for release.

A little longer…

He kept his fingers going and started to bite her skin. She was losing her mind. Drool dripping off her lips. Chest heaving.

She was a mess.

A fucking mess.

It was for that reason alone that he bellowed into the heated basement, “Cum Jane. Fucking cum for me!”

She bit her lip as she allowed her body to relax. And in that split second, in that moment, her world stopped. Time paused.

With another reach of his fingers her body exploded. She squirt a steady stream onto his hand. She didn’t care though. No. She didn’t care as her body was sent into endless spasms. Each muscle convulsing to a different rhythm. Her screams of sheer joy sliced through the air and entered the atmosphere. The dogs playing outside paused, cocking their ears before resuming their play.

He pulled out his fingers, set the vibrator on low and smeared the dripping liquid from his digits onto her lips.

Her head hung limp, tongue barely making it out of her mouth to lick it off. Her body was stuck in a post-orgasmic limbo. The constant, low hum of the vibrator making every nerve jolt. Making her overstimulated clit throb.

“Well my love, I’m hungry. So I’m going to make us supper. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

He snapped two more pictures as her eyes widened in shock, in pleading. But just as she opened her mouth to vocalize her opinion, he cut in,

“Oh. And don’t cum.”

And with that, he turned his back, turned the vibrator up, and walked up the stairs and out of sight.

Lordy.🔥😈🔥 Someone may have a death wish. 😉

[extreme-close-up-woooaah]

breakfast club headcanons V

andrew - first things first i think that we can all agree that this man is in fact a jean cuffer, he’s a bi man - he had braces from 7th grade to junior year and gets very embarrassed of  precious old photos of younger him - okay so, i need to elaborate on this boys family life, it’s insane - this boy is brothers with the kid in the police office in ferris buellers day off (his name is garth volbeck) and they have a sister named judy because garth mentions her - yes i did this because they are brothers irl and have different last names irl (but for different reasons)  - and their parents divorced a year before the breakfast club so their mother (a very sweet lady who loves her kids no matter what and respects them, she can also bake and she taught andrew to respect woman) she already moved out into another house in another neighborhood - so andrew lives with his dad sadly, and has a hard time escaping it all, garth is in between everything and judy lives with their mother by choice because of obvious reasons - okay hopefully ya’ll understand that :) - next things next this man (even out of my au) grows up to be a librarian - the story to how that happened is kind of upsetting, i don’t want anyone to feel in any way triggered or upset by this so... T W: don’t read if sensitive to stuff like verbal abuse - after highschool he got into a college for wrestling and did his thing and then after that he got onto the wrestling team his dad coaches - andrew had joined but it had drained him, his mental health was deteriorating to say the least - eventually he started to feel pain in his knee but his father kept pushing him and pushing him until he couldn’t take it anymore - he knee gave out  - i’m not educated enough to say why but all i know is that he couldn’t wrestle anymore and was useless in his fathers eyes - his father said very mean things to him and left him at a telephone booth with very little money, enough to get a burger at a mcdonalds, he called garth - asked him to take him to the hospital, he was shaky on the phone but his brother understood and came to pick him up - the ride was completely silent and understandably so, but andrew ended up crying in the passenger seat, he was kind of cold too  T W over: enjoy the rest :) - uh soooo ONCE AGAIN i am NOT educated enough to say what happened to his knee but he ended up having some chronic knee thing and it was only going to get worse and he needed a knee brace for it  - he ends up staying at garth and his boyfriends house (sorry to anyone who thinks brian should just be on his own, me and my bf ship brian and garth like a couple of dorks U-U so please do ignore it if you don’t like it or think of them as roommates :>)  - he ended up getting a job at the local library and he was pretty good at it, this library in particular was very safe and a tame - perfect, so he ended up getting the money from it and a small loan from his brother and getting his own apartment eventually  - he built his life back up and he’d end up in a comfortable house with a cat and perhaps a husband or wife A H E M bENDer - okay now on to the good stuff, lead your mind back to kindergarten - when he was younger he liked the colors pink and purple and he likes blue omg bi pride  but he ended up getting scolded for it from his dad so he vowed his whole life to hate those three things because he thought this was the normal way to live - which would explain why he’d say he hates cats but then meet one or even own one and get crazy attached to it and even name it - him and his brother wrestled around a lot but when it came to their sister they’d never hurt her, she (age: 3) was BRUTAL to them, they all look back and laugh on it later - he’s a middle child but oddly he crushes the idea of middle child syndrome because he gets too much unwanted attention from his dad, garth is two years older, his sister is three years under - in middle school he was kinda awkward and even in highschool wasn’t the most popular kid, he was good at wrestling and considered to be the best of them but girls liked the louder ones better, he’s kind of quiet - he’s got “terrible taste” in clothes according to the entirety of the breakfast club, he dresses like an old man when he’s older, but like an ancient man like me  like full on plaid pants blue shirt tan cardigan kinda thingy - when he’s younger he stays sporty on days where he has a meet but some days my man wears a yucky polo and plaid pants and a big belt once again some ugly old man stuff that i’d wear - he’s a door mat, push over, he cannot say no and that’s one of his main issues NOT PROJECTION but like me 😎 - he’s extremely polite and tries his best at being nice and respectful toward everyone but when it comes to standing up for himself in particular against people who aren’t specifically bender, he’s lost and kinda just ignores it and lets it happen - bender finally gets him to snap cause andrew wouldn’t let anyone hurt his friends or even just a person in general - he’s a little on edge for the rest of his time in detention - ya’ll okay sorry bout this, but the breakfast club is just a group of stuffed animal hoarders, he’s got a regular old teddy bear at his MOMS house so it’s safe :) - lil spoon  - cozy man wears sweaters - OH he’s super short, not a headcanon, HECK its not projection, i just enjoy the fact that he’s short and blonde like meee :} lets appreciate the tiny boy shall we? - his letterman is a size too big because he was told he’d grow into it, he is cozy - he’s at his happiest when he’s a. with his friends b. on a chair with a cat or c. outside in autumn time  - bender makes andrew a small angry bi whenever he’s around, andrew has a lot of pent up anger and he’s a little uptight and bender shakes him loose and gets him annoyed and then continues to baby voice him about how much he loves him in a funny sorta way, mostly when they were younger - andy and allison are super close and tell each other almost everything, they have coffee together and talk about how everything is every now and then, more often when they’re older - benders strong so he’ll give everyone piggy backs, usually he surprise attacks andy tho and picks him up, or if they walk home all together after school, whoevers tired, if its andrew he’ll be gentle in that circumstance - brian and andrew like books, one grows up to be an author and the other a librarian, and once andy discovers his book in his library he smiles and checks it out to read - claire and andy are closer when they’re older, they talk about their shared experiences as a kid and how they ended up where they are and they talk about how lucky they are compared to others - when they were younger claire used to try and show the boys style, bender is already a fashionista but claire picks out some cool ties for him with wacky designs on them, he wears those to work when he’s older - brian enjoys it but only to buy a pair of new shoes, perhaps some loafers and a cool button up - claire has to pick out clothes for andy because andy doesn’t know what he likes quite yet, claire ends up teaching him how to cuff his jeans and :)))))) okay i’ll stop - around christmas, andrew gets the worst gifts, he tries so so hard but he can never seem to get it right, bender gets a kick out of it :}  - in the au they have a cat named mr.ravioli because bender made raviolis and the cat began to feast on them without them knowing so they decided that’d be his name i’ll stop here but it’s not the last part of this series of headcanons, i will write more, some future ones being for all of them together, and then a fbdo bttf pretty in pink cross over where all the cool kidz hang together!! sorry this was so long ;<; i didn’t mean to absolutely pour out my heart but i love andrew and he deserves some headcanons :} i hope their not too bad ;w;

[shawnpetermuffins]

Pictured with You (viii.)

A/n: please don't hate me for this. I swear it'll get better.

Summary: noticable tension and... sick days?

Warnings: do I even need to warn about angst anymore? I mean, its me we're talking about. Of course it's angst. But also not really.

Word count: 2.2k

***

We're never alone anymore. Haven't been in weeks. It's strictly professional, like it was always supposed to be. But it's killing me slowly not talking anymore. That was always the fun part of this, but I not only ruined any future prospect of us bring linked romantically, but now we're barely even friends. That's what hurts more than anything. Because the things I couldn't tell Connor were things I could tell Shawn and he'd be more than willing to listen to me go on and on about whatever. And Connor listens, of course he does, but he's bluntly honest and sometimes a little overly judgemental. He's always been the rational one in our friendship, while I go and mostly make things a bigger deal than they need to be. I love having him, but I miss how easy it was with Shawn. But every time I think I've built up the courage to talk to him about that night, talk to him about us, I chicken out at the last second.

We're all lounging around the green room, a few of the band members playing their imaginary instruments, going through the chords they've played at least a hundred times before just to be super sure they have it. I snap a photo or two of Shawn fiddling with his inears. They're a little tangled with the collar of his shirt and I have half a mind to go over and help him. So I do, without thinking about it, somehow forgetting that we haven't talked in weeks. That we haven't been this close to each other in weeks. That he probably doesn't even want me anywhere near him after I just left him without warning - like so many girls before me have done. (I thought they were idiots to leave this precious man alone after only a night with him. They were, but somehow I'm one too, now.) Which is probably why his body tenses ever so slightly when he feels my fingers on the back of his neck, untangling the tiny wires.

"Sorry," I say so low I think he can't possibly hear me.

But he mumbles out a soft "thanks" and looks down at himself, debating with himself whether or not he should unbutton his shirt a little more, exposing the black undershirt and the chest hair that peaks through that top. He buttons and unbuttons the same button three times while I stay standing there.

"Leave it unbuttoned," I mutter. "The fans go crazy for it."

He doesn't respond, only looks in the full length mirror that is currently reflecting his tall frame and my shorter one, and finally unbuttoned the shirt one more time, leaving it at that with a single pop of his collar.

My breath catches as I remember leaving marks all up and down his torso, more toward his waist though, knowing just how big the story would be if the fans saw hickeys around his chest and neck. That didn't stop him from leaving them all across me though. I swallow harshly, pushing the thought away as I walk to the other side of the room where my camera bag is sitting. I take out one of my other lenses, trying to decide which one I want more. The one I was using now took the greatest portraits, but the other caught the details in the background, with its wider angle. I'm mulling it over when I the light beside me shifts a little.

I turn my head to see Mike smiling warmly at me. "Hey," I say, switching out the lenses.

"Hey." He just stands there while I take a few test shots around the room.

"Need something?" I ask when he still hasn't said anything.

"Do you have a second to talk?"

I shrug, "Sure. What's up?"

"No, not here. Follow me?"

I furrow my brows but promptly follow anyway. We stand just outside the dressing room, but far enough from the door that you couldn't hear us unless you were literally standing in the doorway - or you know, if there wasn't nearly 50,000 people screaming lyrics back to Shawn's opening act. "Mike, is everything okay?"

"That's what I was just about to ask you."

"What?"

"You look like you need to talk to somebody. And the guys and I have noticed a little bit of… I don't know, tension between you and Shawn lately."

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to think of anything to explain why he's noticed and why we're being weird. "It's nothing. We got in a fight. It was stupid."

"Well, it can't be that stupid if it has you guys avoiding each other for three weeks. Did something happen?"

"Mike," I plead, not wanting to tell him the intimate details of my one night with Shawn. "Look, don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll be back to normal in a few days." If I could stop being so goddamn terrified of talking to him. "We're just both too stubborn for our own good."

"Are you sure? Because you can tell me. I'm not gonna go out and tell anyone. I'm just worried about you."

I shake my head, "No. Really, we're fine."

"Just a lover's spat, right?" He questions with a smirk.

I let out a nervous laugh, "something like that, I guess."

"Hey," he pats my shoulder sympathetically, "It'll get better. You guys will make up. I'm sure of it."

"Yeah, thanks."

"And I mean, you're bound to have a few fights here and there. It's hard being with a person twenty-four/seven for months on end. Especially a significant other. And when the relationship is still so new?" He shakes his head, "But you guys will come out of it even stronger. I can tell just by the way you look at each other."

I furrow my brows, mostly because he thinks we're together. "How do we look at each other?" I ask timidly.

"Like you're the only two in the room." With a chuckle he adds, "sometimes it seems like you want nothing more than for that to be true."

I swallow hard because right now more than ever, I do wish it was true.

---

Shawn literally goes on in less than five minutes, and even though I've been there for dozens of shows already, I feel suddenly really nervous, nauseous actually. Like extremely nauseous. The whole crew is walking toward the stage, but I'm steps behind them all, growing slower by the second as my stomach turns over again and again. We are just passing the bathrooms when I run into the women's room, barely making it into a stall in time to spill my guts. I cough a few times, finally standing up. I try to be as quick as possible because the crowd is getting louder and I can hear Mike on the drums. I rinse my mouth out, grab my camera from the sink and book it to the main stage, practically running into Andrew on the way.

"Where were you?" He asks, but he doesn't seem mad, more concerned. He definitely noticed how pale I looked, just like I noticed in the terrible bathroom lighting. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I mumble. "Just forgot my extra memory card. But we're good."

"Y/n," he catches my arm before I can walk away. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm good," I nod and he finally lets me go, just in time to catch Shawn walking onto the stage, the crowd becoming deafening.

"Where were you?" Connor yells in my ear after the first song is over.

"I got sick," I say back, bringing my camera up to my eyes.

"Again?"

I shrug. No, this isn't the first time today that I've thrown up. It's actually the third, but the only person who knows that is Connor, and that's because he was with me when it happened the first two times. I don't think much of it, even though I probably should. I don't get sick often, rarely ever, if I'm being honest. And I especially don't get sick to the point where I'm throwing up. I'm assuming it's just my body's way of finally rejecting all the steady travel I've been doing.

Different time zones every other day, different food, different weather - one day it's hot, the next I need three jackets to provide me even the slightest amount warmth. It's got to be that. There's nothing else I could possibly think of that would have me feeling this sick. Except for one thing…

Please god, don't let it be that. Let it be absolutely anything else in the world but that.

---

Connor follows me to my room after the show and I plop against the cool pillows without any thought at all. But I feel his eyes on my aching body.

"What?" I groan, sparing him a glance through my hooded eyes.

"You've gotten sick a lot today."

I hum, "I'm fine. It's probably just a stomach bug."

"Could be that," he nods and sits down next to me. "Or it could be something else."

My body stiffens at the thought. "Connor-"

"You're pregnant, aren't you?"

I let out a broken sob, covering my face. "I don't know."

"Y/n… how could you be so careless?"

"I wasn't! We were safe!" I say, removing my hands from my face dramatically.

"Clearly not safe enough if you might be pregnant."

"Stop saying that. I'm not!"

"You don't know that, though. That's the problem. That you don't know. This could be really bad for you, and Shawn! Your careers are literally at their peaks. You can't have a baby right now."

"You think I don't know that? You think I want to raise a baby on my own at twenty-one?"

He frowns, "what makes you think you'd raise the baby alone?"

I only glare at him. "Really? A twenty-two year old rockstar, who can literally have any girl in the fucking world, is going to settle for his knocked up tour photographer. Think about that for a minute, Con. That type of thing doesn't happen in real life. That's movie stuff."

"He'd be a great dad, you know." He says it softly, mostly to himself.

"I know," I sigh. "But not now. I can't spring this on him now. Especially not when we haven't really spoken to each other in weeks."

"You have to tell him."

"Not if there's nothing to tell. And why are you all of a sudden on his side? Every chance you get you're telling me that he and I can't be more than friends. What's this 'he'd be a good dad. You have to tell him'?"

He just shrugs, "despite everything that I tell you, I really do like Shawn as a person. I tell you all these things because I don't want to see you get hurt. He's gone so much and whether you like to admit it or not, you need attention."

I gape at him and slap his arm, "I'm not an attention whore!"

"That's not what I mean," he laughs. "I just mean, with him being gone like 10 months out of the year, you're not gonna get the attention that's needed in a relationship. You'll feel left out. He'll feel bad for not being with you more. You'll both be miserable. And I'd hate for that to be the case."

"And what would that mean for… this hypothetical baby?" I ask, putting my hand on my stomach.

It takes him a while to say anything, "I think he'd stop for that. I think he would do everything he could to be a part of the baby's life. But a girlfriend is a different priority than a baby is, y/n. He doesn't have to stop for a girlfriend. But he would for a baby. Especially because you know he wants kids. He wants to give them the world and he'll stop at nothing until he does just that."

I don't say it, but I know he'd do the same for a girlfriend. Maybe not stop touring, but I have first hand experience on what he would be like as a boyfriend. Attentive and sweet and cautious and aware. He does all the things Connor says he won't be able to, and that's what makes it so hard for me to back away from this.

---

After another agonizingly long hour of discussing what I should or shouldn't do, Connor finally leaves the room. I let out a deep breath and close my eyes, leaning against the door. This whole night was too much, first with Mike and then Connor. Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't girls claim to have guy friends because there's less drama?

My phone buzzes from my nightstand where I put it to charge only minutes ago. I roll my eyes, still standing at the door, and I wait there for a good three minutes before I make my way over.

Shawn's name lights up my screen and my heart falls into my stomach. I gulp as I read the text over and over at least three times.

We need to talk

I pray to God that it's not as bad as I'm anticipating. But then I remember what I might have to tell him and I know it will be.

Yeah we do. My room, 10 minutes?

How about 5?

Ok…

And just as I throw my phone down on the bed, another wave of nausea hits me. Jesus Christ, please don't let me be pregnant.

***

Tags: @curlyshawny @anamariel2301 @shawns-badreputation @bbellbagel @turtoix @ivegotparticulartaste @tomshufflepuff @dino-16-avocado @sleepybesson

PWY TAG: @lifeoftheparty74 @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @alinaxxshawn @rosesfromcth @5-seconds-of-mendes @sweetheartmendes @queensdimple @strangerliaa @xoxohannahlee @thenovarose

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[0idril0]

Phoenix

Daria& Evan 13

Thanks @whumpywhumper and @captivity-whump for beta reading

I’m sorry @comfy-whumpee but this one is what all the pain was for

@whumpitywhumpwhump I don’t know where you are but we miss you 🥺

@doityourselfbombs I cannot for the life of me remember your other blogs name 😅

next fic is pure comfort, you guys deserve it for putting up with me 

<>

June 21, 1995—Summer Solstice

Daria hummed quietly, tucking her precious boy closer. The candle on her altar flickered, illuminating his pink cheeks, still round with baby fat. He hugged a little stuffed wolf closer, curling long, slender fingers into her shawl as he snuffled in sleep.

Her ritual was ruined, but as she pressed a kiss against his thick hair, she couldn’t find any annoyance at the interruption.

“I love you, my little Nikola.”

Stroking his slender fingers, she memorized her little boy’s face. She knew that she shouldn’t have favorites, but her little boy was the most loving toddler she’d ever encountered. He clung to her, always wanting to be held, to be snuggled and fussed over.

She grinned as the the new life in her kicked out, making its presence known. Three more months and her little boy wouldn’t be the youngest and her time would be taken up with the new baby. And her daughter, her oldest, would be ten. It would be time to start teaching her about her magic soon.

Her eyes strayed to the altar, and she felt a knot of worry grow in her chest. When Nico had wandered into her divination, it had turned violent, showing the death of a young man with dark hair and pale blue eyes. Daria shivered, remembering. The young man had looked so much like her husband, but he’d had her dark hair, her blue eyes. Nikola’s hair and eyes.

“You spoil him.”

Daria shifted so she could look at the door where her husband lurked. “Hmmm.... Dragostea mea.... do you blame me?”

Andrew smirked, tiptoeing up to them. “I guess I can’t, but that’s only because you tried to spoil Sorina, and she wouldn’t let you.” He grinned impishly, settling a square hand on their son’s head. “Did you see anything?”

Biting her lip, Daria turned to the altar. “Bits and pieces... your son interrupted before I saw anything about the near future.”

Andrew snorted, used to her trying to blame him for things. “My son when he interrupts, your son when he’s adorable, how’s that fair? Want me to take him to bed so you can finish?”

She shook her head, pulling Nico into a tighter embrace. “I’ll have to wait for the equinox, but I think we will be safe until then.”

“Okay, Love, I’ll see you in a bit.” He kissed Nico’s forehead before leaving the room on silent feet.

Daria sat there, cradling her son, until the candle sputtered out.

<>

Evan pushed Brian and Kristy through the doorway to his office, slamming the door closed as Clint’s feral howl sounded through the clinic. Snarls and screams echoed through the brick walls, vibrating the door on its hinges. He hoped Clint didn’t come this way, the door wouldn’t hold against a feral wolf.

“F—fuck.” Brian’s breathy curse hung in the room as Evan stood with his back braced against the door. “Fucking fuck, what the hell was that?”

“That... that would be a werewolf that just lost its mate....” Sweat ran in rivets down his face, soaking his shirt as he caught his breath. Brian’s face turned white, mouth falling open.

“But...” Brian trailed off, sinking into a catty corner chair. His wide eyes were glassy as they left Evan's, staring into empty space.

A small sob drew his attention, Kristy was on her haunches behind his desk, holding a trembling hand to her mouth. “Oh my god... oh my god...” Mascara ran down her olive cheeks, staining her hands where she’d started to wipe away tears.

The crash of metal made them all jump, bracing themselves in their respective places. Their quiet breathing was the only sound for a long moment.

Evan's hands shook as he straightened, gently cracking the door open. A howl made him freeze, the sound sucking the warmth from the room. He clenched his eyes against the agony in it, allowing his head to rest against the cool wood. “Fuck... “

<>

March 21, 1999—Spring Equinox

Daria sobbed, hands braced against the altar in front of her. Her little boy had turned six yesterday, and she wouldn’t live to see him turn seven. She’d done everything, altered their future in so many different ways, and she couldn’t make it change.

What was she supposed to do?

“Mama, are you okay?”

Daria sniffled, quickly rubbing away her tears. Nico peeked through a small crack in the door to her herb room, worry causing a small furrow in his brow. He held his small stuffed wolf close, inseparable from it. She knew why now, knew why he grew restless when the full moon rose, why all dogs seemed to love him. It was her job to make sure he got that ending though.

“Yes, Baby, I’m fine. Come here.” She spread her arms, warmth curling in her heart when he ran to her and jumped up, wrapping his legs around her waist. Burying her face into his hair, she felt a few more tears fall down her cheeks.

“I love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, Cola,” Daria whispered into his hair, cradling his small head.

She’d seen bits and pieces of his future, and it filled her with dread. She’d seen happiness, but she’s also seen such unimaginable horror. She had three more chances. She couldn’t waste them.

<>

“Stay here.”

Brian and Kristy barely moved, each too caught in their own little piece of misery to acknowledge him.

Evan pulled the door open slowly, Clint’s howl still haunting the clinic. He froze when a quiet whine came from one of the exam rooms to his left, not expecting anything other than Clint to be out in the clinic.

He instinctively wove magic around the advancing dog, relaxing when Murphy, a large fluffy mutt with hip dysplasia, waddled around the door. Murphy ignored Evan, continuing his slow walk down the hallway.

The damage to his clinic was extensive, wood splinters littering the hallway, brick powder coating the flat surfaces. Fuck. Inching his way closer, he could see more dogs laying in front of his surgery room, pulled together so tightly that they looked like one giant ball of fur. The largest two, a Tibetan mastiff named Clifford and a wolfhound name Keith, sat at the doorway, standing sentinel. Cliff whoofed at him quietly in greeting, but didn’t move, keeping his post.

“Good boy,” Evan whispered, weaving a few delicate strands of magic over the dogs. Clifford was tricky, part supernatural, but mostly just well trained. Keith was easier, easily following his suggestion to move.

Clint lay naked on the floor, broad back to the doorway. Keening sobs racked him, muscles quivering under the onslaught of grief. Blood stained his shoulder, black bruises fanning over his shoulder and ribs. There was a tiny mass barely visible in Clint’s arms, and Evan's heart hurt as he realized it was Nico, his bandaged feet poking out of the bottom of the bundle.

What had he done with Martin? Taking stock of the dogs, he saw they were all here. If the man had been injured somewhere one of them would have been there. Especially his resident comfort dog, an old golden named Sunny.

The wolf’s nest was a haphazard mess of quilts and blood stained towels; Evan rolled his shoulders, steeling himself as he grabbed a fresh quilt before entering. 

“Hey, buddy...” Whispering, he shook out the quilt. “I’m just going to cover you up, okay?”

Clint muffled a watery growl into the quilt cocooning Nico, curling tighter around his small bundle as the quilt descended to cover them.

“I know, I know, shhhh...” Evan knelt, placing a tentative hand on Clint’s shoulder. The growling stopped, giving way to more gasping sobs as his mouth worked like he was trying to talk. “I know, buddy, I know.” Evan buried a hand into Clint’s hair, gently stroking the sandy locks.

One of Nico’s hands had fallen out of the blanket to lay limp against the quilts, Clint’s sobs making the appendage shake. Evan continued to stroke Clint’s hair, rubbing small circles into the base of his skull.

Evan’s throat tightened as he sat there with the pair, and he brushed a stray tear from his face before reaching forward, gently grasping Nico’s lax hand.

“Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.....” Evan whispered the benediction into the quiet space between Clint’s cries, rubbing circles into Nico’s bandaged wrist. “May the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, Rest In Peace.”

Evan squeezed the base of Clint’s skull as the man whimpered louder. “I’m sorry Clint. I-“

A faint blue light distracted him, reflecting against his fingers. Wha-?

<>

December 22, 1999—Winter Solstice

Daria swallowed thickly as she laid out the altar in front of her; it was time. Her last task. The full moon rose behind her as she lit the candles, placing the crystals delicately around the copper bowl. It needed to be perfect.

Anxiety grew in her chest as she willed the sputtering candles to stay alight. She was glad for Louisiana’s tepid winters as she laid her sleeping little boy on the altar, making sure his lax arms and legs were placed perfectly. She’d had to give him a sleeping brew, worried he would be too curious about the ritual to lie still. She needed this to work.

She lit the contents of the bowl on fire using the white candle and tugged the little plush wolf from Nico’s embrace. He was going to be so disappointed when he woke up.

The henna work on Nico’s chest and arms was dark in contrast to his pale skin. Smoothing a hand over his thin chest, she checked the work again, making sure he hadn’t smudged it playing with his little sister before falling asleep.

“I have one more story for you, my little one.” God, how she wished she could tell him stories every night, watch the way he would mouth along with a poem, puzzling at the meaning behind the words. Even as a six year old, he was so thoughtful and deep. It killed her that she wouldn’t see him grow.

Unclipping the talisman from her neck, she traced the small engraving. The piece was no larger than a quarter, a howling wolf surrounded by two Phoenixes in flight.

Holding it over the flames, she began chanting.

“When you are ashes, remember this.

They will insult you,

Hurt you,

Defeat you,

Betray you,

Injure you

Set you aflame

And watch you burn.”

The toy ignited quickly, multicolored flames consuming it in moments.

“But they will not,

Shall not,

Cannot

Destroy you.”

She released the talisman, the metal crackling as it settled into the ashes.

“Because you,

Like Rome,

Were built on ashes,

And you,

Like a Phoenix,

Know how to rise,

And resurrect.”

The flames in the bowl turned blue as the moon reached its peak, burning higher than what should have been possible before extinguishing with a whisper of air, there one moment and gone the next.

Nico mewled as the flames dissipated, and her breath caught in her throat as the lines of henna work slowly began to glow, bright blue illuminating his pale skin.

Quickly, Daria set her hand into the ashes, heedless of the heat, letting the metal talisman burn into her hand. She traced the lines of blue with the ash, dipping her fingers into the heat over and over again until he was completely coated.

“Protect him. Please.” Daria fastened the clasp around his neck, the tiny click echoing in the quiet. The talisman sat in bold contrast to his skin as the henna and ash mixed, slowly disappearing into Nico’s skin. The talisman would be hidden from view so only he would be aware of it. Picking her child up like she had a hundred times before, wrapping his legs around her waist and his arms around her neck, she abandoned the altar. She wouldn’t need it again. She’d done all she could for her family.

<>

Clint’s sobs grew harsher as Evan turned Nico’s limp hand. What the fuck?

“Clint.” Evan jerked his hand away from Nico’s, using it as he scrambled his way in front of the pair to get a better look at the bundled figure.

Clint’s sob cut off with a grunt when Evan kneed him in his haste, turning into a wet growl as the vet started to peel away the blankets from Nico’s face and chest. “Just leave us alone Evan, just fucking—“

Evan cut him off, peeling Clint’s arm away from Nico’s chest. “Clint. Look.”

Blue sigils wormed their way across Nico’s exposed skin as Evan watched, like they were being drawn with a practiced hand. Clint gave a strangled gasp from where he lay eyes widening as he dislodged his arm from beneath Nico’s head.

Evan recovered first, probing at the faint lines where they disappeared under the bandages on the bruised chest. What. The. Fuck?

“Have you ever—“ Evan cut himself off, a faint movement against his fingers making him freeze. “Oh my God.”

Pushing Clint away, he rolled Nico to his back, the boy’s head rolling against the quilts. He pressed trembling fingers to the bruised throat and choked. “Fuck. Fucking hell, he’s got a pulse.”

Evan whipped his head towards Clint, who was staring at Nico with glassy eyes, like he hadn’t heard him. “Clint, look at me.”

The wolf lifted his eyes slowly to meet his, gaze dazed. There wasn’t any understanding in the wolf’s yellow eyes. Shock. Exactly what he needed.

Evan growled in frustration, looking Nico over. His heartbeat was still faint against his fingers, but it was so much stronger than it had been before Martin had arrived. The boy's face had lost the sickly gray, replaced by a pink blush across his cheeks. He pressed his hand against Nico’s chest, and flinched in surprise when there was a wet cough followed by crackling as Nico gasped for air.

“N—Nico?” Clint clutched at his chest, eyes distant. “Oh my god. Oh my god Darlin’. Evan, Evan I—.” Cutting himself off, he folded in half, pressing his cheek to Nico’s. A strangled laugh erupted from him, and Evan felt a small smile tug at his mouth.

He had no idea what was happening, but Nico was alive.

[genderfluidkevinday]

Hi!! Feel like giving me some KevJean hc’s? (I love them and I’m soft™️ pls help) First kiss? First time jean smiled at the nest bc of Kevin? All soft and good things? (Maybe some angst? Kevin leaving the nest bc staying would’ve meant death but leaving also tore his heart out?) (r*ko trying to keep kevjean from interacting?) (soft: French lessons while bandaging bloody, broken fingers and fractured ribs?) you know the good soft stuff for my fave rare pair???

oh,,,,,, oh anon. yes.

their first kiss was outside the nest- they were too aware of the consequences of experimenting in the nest, and its hard to be alone together. risk > reward. their first kiss in an exy court in california. kevin was visiting the trojans, and he and jean had been tip toeing about the fact that theyve had massive crushes on each other for like, five or six years by now. 

jean kisses him first, because kevin’s a dumbass, but he’s jean’s dumbass. 

jean doesn’t smile much on principle, at least an honest smile. he’s big on sarcastic smiles, which kevin is on the receiving end of a lot, but he also has a soft, honest, good happy smile. which kevin also receives a lot. the first time kevin made jean smile was probably with a dumb joke so bad that jean looked at him, went “well i have horrible taste” and proceeded to laugh his ass off.

jean is just a tiny bit taller than kevin, and kevin constantly attacks him w neck kisses bc its the easiest place to reach. hes too dignified to get on his tip toes every time. only 7/10 times. jean thinks its too unfairly adorable that kevin gets on his tip toes to reach up to kiss him. too cute. someone arrest kevin day for being Too Precious, Too Perfect, My Heart Is Exploding

they go on a lot of fro-yo dates, because its healthier than icecream. jean, an absolute menace, waits until kevin is done with his fro-yo to mention he wants a taste, because then kevin will kiss him to “share”. also, they go on cheesy bowling dates in bad arcades. they do a lot of the stereotypical dates that high schoolers go on (going to the movies, the park, etc) bc they didnt get that as teens so theyre absolutely allowed to 

once they both make Court :) they patch each other up after particularly rough games/practices. the rest of the team (except andrew and neil) dont know theyre dating because jean is a salty, sarcastic mofo and kevin has a lot of pride, but they essentially act like an old married couple. theyve known each other for a very long time, they adore each other immensely, and kevin needs to know he was being a dumbass when he tried to make that goal and ran into the wall. 

i could go on for FOREVER but basically? i absolutely adore these two. theyre soft. 

[momtemplative]

Saturday Afternoon, MACRO and MICRO

Definition of Macro: large-scale; overall. ie., THE FOREST.

Definition of Micro:  extremely small. ie., THE TREES. Definition of Macro, here: The wild world at large.

Definition of Micro, here:  The tiny home we inhabit, where we “shelter in place.”

MICRO—I sit here in our tiny RV that is parked in the driveway. It’s where I “go to write”, a creative parlor with wheels and a view of our magnificent choke cherry out the window that is just starting to think about blooming. (I don’t blame it for being hesitant.) 

Months back, Opal and her friend pretended this RV was a rescue vehicle for dogs—all dogs but mostly pit bulls, a breed Opal feels is highly misrepresented. From where I sit, in the passenger seat swiveled to face the rear, there are four black-and-white photocopies of gorgeous dog portraits staring at me. One pit bull in particular looks straight through me.

I’ve purposefully resisted straight-up news, aside from my nightly installment of “Good News Network” and NPR’s weekly “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me” radio quiz show. But living without allowing for the outside to seep in feels unhealthy in its own right. Selectively permeable would be the proper thing to practice now. 

So I crack open my computer and dip my toes in the NY Times live coverage of the Coronavirus.

I can hear Jesse’s future voice in my head: How was writing?

Me: Good, but I’m feeling a tad suicidal now.

Him: Why?

Me: I read the news.

Him: Now why would you go and do that??

MACRO—“With President Trump having undercut the new guidance of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention by immediately declaring that he would not wear a mask himself, it was far from clear how many Americans would ultimately embrace the recommendation.”

MICRO— I return from the RV to find a house party of three people in my living room. Thankfully, my family did not get the memo that in this moment, life on the outside is complex and backwards. Ruth is on Jesse’s shoulders, no pants, shit-eating grin and fresh-cut bangs in her eyes. She shakes like a puppy with over-large ears and Opal twirls in her No ProbLLama nightgown to the Imagine Dragons song, Zero. Inside our little bubble, things are bumping! The sun floods the living room and even the anti-social cat seems obliged to hang out—from an appropriate distance.

MACRO—Governor Andrew Cuomo warns that, as infections passed 113,700 and deaths 3,500, New York State would reach the worst point of the coronavirus crisis within a week or so. He also said the state was using the machines for coronavirus patients at a rate that would exhaust its stockpile in just six days.

MICRO—Three boxes are stacked one atop the other in front of our door like a cairn. One box is for Jesse’s birthday next weekend, the others are for Ruth. 

It’s looking like COVID-19 will spit us out the other end proficient in at least one new talent—Opal’s is roller skating. She insisted on using my skates, which she found while foraging for activities in the garage like a squirrel for food. After a few days of wearing those up and down the down-stairs hallway, and back and forth on the sidewalk out front, I was certain the future for her ankles was bleak and we ordered her a pair on Amazon that were her size.

Ruth observed all this unfolding and with no intention of leaving empty-handed. Unfortunately, toddler-sized skates are much harder to come by. So, many weeks into the future, Ruthy finally got her own skates that go over her shoes and are, frankly, awesome. She also picked out the tackiest Olaf helmet—with a carrot-nose that actually protrudes—after instructing me to “search on Amazon for Olaf now please.” 

Each of those treasured items are contained in the boxes on our porch. I jump into our current porch-sanitizing routine (bleach wipes and spray lined up on the porch without apology)—wipe box, open, wipe down package inside, wash hands thoroughly. 

You can practically hear Ruth buzzing as suits up for a jolly, though quick to be exhausting, skate around the block. Her uniform killed, and would have worked as well for Halloween, Burning Man, a rave and a roller derby—mixed patterns for shirt and pants, knee pads and skates from Trolls, Olaf helmet. When she velcroes her final skate, I hear a faint, prayer-like utterance from Jesse: dear god. She is an eye-full that could save a life.

MACRO—Trump is getting help with the November election. His campaign just rolled out a new ad, titled “Hope,” featuring appreciative quotes from Gov. Cuomo and Gov. Newsom of California. With the lives of their constituents at stake, they’ve given him the made-for-TV sound bites he was never able to extract from Ukraine’s president, Volodymyr Zelensky.

MICRO— Thank god for these kids. If I were being force-fed the news then led to an empty house with, maybe, a roommate-peer who is also stressed and bloated with sad information, or if perhaps I were old and alone, I’d be struggling in an entirely different way. Sure, I have my moments of fantasizing about what it would have been like if COVID and shelter-in-place came at a time before or children, during a time when I could have relished cleaning and reading and making a weeks-long retreat out of an unsavory situation. But the fact is, these kids keep the scales level.

Not to mention the fact that affection is built-in. Even though Ruth is less interested in snuggling than she is in building block-towers or submerging every toy she owns in water, we seem to be touching constantly, in this or that way. Hugs from Opal and Jesse, snuggling on the couch for a show, holding hands on our walks around the block—it’s all-inclusive. The fact that this is not the case for everyone is something I am well aware of.

MACRO—Jared Kushner has embedded his own people in the Federal Emergency Management Agency; a senior official described them to The Times as “a ‘frat party’ that descended from a U.F.O. and invaded the federal government.” As The Washington Post reported, Kushner’s team added “another layer of confusion and conflicting signals within the White House’s disjointed response to the crisis.”

Kushner, you can’t shatter us.  Young girls in roller skates win every goddam time.

MICRO— Our block continues to be paradise. Any interest we had six months ago in selling this house has been waylaid and, thus, we are appreciating our home base in a truly different way. 

As we make our way down the block with two girls on their respective wheels, we holler at our beloved across-the-street neighbors, friends of 14 years. They sit, mysteriously, at a card table in their front yard, as if they are having an invisible garage sale. We exchange a boisterous, level-12-volume conversation from across the street, talking over each other and at the same time, expressing everything we possibly can in the tiny window we have while the girls scoot away on their skates. 

The corner that turns on to the bike path and is covered with ancient ponderosa pines smells musty and earthy and perfect. Like every camping trip ever taken. Every hike through the woods. A momentary dose of equilibrium.

When we circle back, our neighbors are still outside.  

One of them asks, “Hey, have you guys been wearing masks outside?”

“No, Governor Polis just suggests it for any public place—grocery, whatever.”

“We saw a few people driving by with them on.”

“Yea, so did we, we saw a few people out walking with them on, just outside.”

I guess the point is, if it’s not gonna hurt, you might as well do it. Hell, if we are in this far—as is shelter-in-place—then we might as well take it all the way. To pick up the slack for people who aren’t doing what they should be doing. (We are actually yelling all this in conversation across the street.) The idea that some people would still not be doing what they are supposed to be doing is ludicrous.  I’ve vented my rage at the college students of America over St. Patty’s Day, but they are all home by now, are they not? So who are we talking about here?

Fact is, as I just learned today, there are still five states that are not mandatory shelter-in-place. (I’m sorry, what??)

MACRO—“I can’t lock the state down,” said Gov. Kim Reynolds of Iowa, which has recorded more than 600 confirmed cases and at least 11 deaths. “People also have to be responsible for themselves.”

MICRO— Opal has been loving her evening ritual of putting Ruth to bed. She says it’s one of her most ‘special times of the day,’ though it happens only a few times a week. She takes her little sister down by the hand, gets her jammies on and teeth brushed, reads to her, the whole precious nine yards. She does that tonight, leaving Jesse and I to the quiet of ourselves and our space-sans-kids in the family room. 

Jesse promptly dozes off in the rocking chair. I lie on the floor with eyes closed in star-pose, taking up some glorious space. These days are taking a toll. But it’s also true that I laughed so hard on four different occasions this afternoon that I buckled over twice, slapped a knee and wet myself. 

So much is going well in our tiny Microcosm that sometimes it’s easy to forget the Big Picture Macro. Ignorance is indeed not far from a certain cheap kind of bliss. It makes sense why people do it, why people feel the need to avoid discomfort. But, ultimately, the mind knows when it is missing something. The soul knows when it is being cut-off. Our beings can feel when humanity is suffering, whether or not we choose to admit it to ourselves in so many words.

“Mom!” Opal whisper-yells from down the hall. “Ready!” Meaning, she’s ready for me to come and finish Ruth’s bedtime with a song. But by the time I get to Ruth’s snug and utterly safe kid-room, she is fast asleep.

4/4/20

(all quotes in italics come from the NY Times live coverage of the coronavirus from the previous week.) 

[ritacaroline]

Starshine                 Ch. 61         Jimmy Page      Fan Fiction

The next morning the two of them woke up pressed close to each other, since there was a chill in the air. Jill turned to him as he was just opening his beautiful

eyes. She told Jimmy, “You look like a sweet delicious angel this morning. Your hair all curly and shiny. I want to lick you and nibble you all over every inch of your body.“ 

Jim : Oh my god, I must be dreaming still. An incredible woman just told me she wants to lick me all over.

He then put his arms all around her with a soft smile and started kissing her lips, with his eyes closed. Telling her how glad he was to have her with him there, on the tour with him. Caressing her all over her back and shoulders and sides. Jill just loved the feel of his hands on her bare skin. It was so intense and she could feel the emotion he had for her right through his fingers. After kissing and loving each other for quite some time, Jill got up for a quick shower. There would be a performance in the mid day today. They needed to begin getting ready. 

A bit later, they met their group down at the dining area for breakfast. Linda and Percy were there already. Bonz was there, holding his new baby, feeding him a milk bottle. Clare was busy reading a book, and greeted them gently while sipping her coffee. 

Clare : Oh, it’s the lovebirds. How are you all this morning ?

Jim : Great. And how has it been so far on travel with the little one ?

Bonz : No trouble so far. I get he feeling he’s gonna be fine with touring. For now at least. 

Bonz wiped the baby’s mouth, then gently brought him up against his cloth covered shoulder, patting his tiny back to burp him. Jimmy and Jill couldn’t take their eyes off of the fascinating process. 

Bonz : Cool huh, guys ?

Jim : Yeah. Can’t believe how little he is and how easy it looks with you doing that.

Bonz : Turns out it’s not so hard afterall. So, Page ? Wanna try ? 

Jim : Well, since you fed him already and he seems calm,  alright. I guess I could have a try. 

Bonz wiped Andrew’s mouth again. Clare placed a dry cloth onto Jimmy’s shoulder, and Bonz held little guy under the arms to hand him to Jim.

Jimmy opened his hands wide and grasped the babe around the middle, softly speaking, “Hello Andrew. You’re safe with me. I’ll take good care of you little guy. You can call me Jim.”

He held the baby against his chest and rubbed his tiny back. Soon, several flash cameras went off, since it was a sight to see Rock Jimmy holding an infant with tenderness. People realized it was a rare Kodak moment. Jim was smiling and speaking gently as he held Andrew. Jill was astounded at how lovely he looked with the infant in his arms. So precious. She put her arm around Jimmy’s back and whispered to him, “You look so sexy holding the brand new baby. You’re gonna be an amazing Dad some day. My sweet love.” and she kissed him near his mouth. He had a gentle happy smile on his face, feeling the experience right in his heart.

Clare : So how does it feel, sweetie ?

Jim : Well, it feels great on one hand. I mean, he’s so light, and he’s also so warm against me. It feels unbelievable. On the other hand I feel worried because it also feels like so much responsibility.

Bonz : Yeah, true. But it feels good though, right ?

Jim : Yeah, it does.

Clare : Do you think you’ll want one of your own, when you and Jill get married ? 

Jim :  Well, I would yeah. I would love to see the gorgeous baby that Jill would create. That would be a thrill. My own baby with Jill, would really be everything for me. 

Jill was just drowning in emotions, hearing him speak like that. She was turning pink in the face and just gushing inside with love for Jimmy. She was beyond in love with him. And those words really pushed her over the edge with feelings. Jimmy handed Andrew back to Clare now, and then he immediately kissed Jill on the mouth and petted her hair, held her against himself. As a follow up, to the comments he had made. Jill couldn’t speak, her heart was just too full, to come up with any words. 

After breakfast, the group got up and the band needed to go to the venue stage for sound checks and a quick rehearsal. Clare and Jill went back to the rooms upstairs.The nanny now had full charge of the baby up in the room.  Soon, the concert began and Jill and Clare and Linda all sat by the stage edge, as they had done in past concerts.  

Jimmy had looked toward Jill and winked to her several times, while he played. She blew kisses to him in response. He wore a huge smile. The group played incredibly this afternoon at the venue. The crowd loved it and the applause was deafening. Afterward, Clare and Jill headed up to their rooms again. The men went backstage for a couple drinks. Cole was there this day, and mentioned to the guys, he knew of a spot nearby they could pick up some white powder that was great quality. Jimmy didn’t have his street clothes backstage this time, nor did he have his key on him, to get onto the elevator either. So he turned down Cole’s offer and went to the hotel lobby. Wearing his white dragon suit. People began to approach him for signatures, and he began feeling claustrophobic as a result. 

He called their room, frustrated, from the lobby and Jill answered. And without even hello, he began talking, “The guys and Cole are on their way to score some substances.  And I’m standing here in the lobby wearing this stupid stage costume and now a dog is following me, probably because I have some biscuits in my pocket. And now…..,  Jill hesitated, then she exclaimed, “Okay. Who is this ? ” and Jimmy just fell apart laughing. Because of course she knew it was him.  He slowly calmed down, but still laughed a moment. “By the way, angel. You’re really good at taking the edge off. Really good. But Ok, I’ll go slower this time. Here’s what happened, …and by the way, this is Jimmy,.…”,  as he started fresh. Jill said, “Why don’t you begin by telling me the first thing you need, that I can do this exact moment for you ?“  “You could come meet me down here in the lobby with your room key. So I could get upstairs.“  Jill responded, laughing, “OK, then we can get to the rest of the problems once you’re here."  "Yes.” he breathed out, now calmed down, defused. Jill answered “I’ll be right there darling.”

She was there in less than 2 minutes, and opened her arms to him. And he just continued laughing from earlier and hugged her with all his strength and mashed his face into her soft hair, breathing in her delicious scent. Kissing her at her ear and through all the hair. Keeping his mouth against her neck. She was a breath of fresh air to him. “I love you like crazy.” he said. She brought him upstairs with her key. And once in the room, she helped him get his costume off. And he took a hot shower and began to relax. 

After the shower, they laid down for awhile together, so Jimmy could regain his calmness. He lay there, next to her with a soft blanket over him. Jill petted the hair away from his forehead. And massaged the front of his shoulders and his chest. Jim, with his eyes closed, said softly, “Angel, you’re the most fantastic stress reducing force I’ve ever met. And that is one of the reasons which I need you next to me all the time. You’re a necessity for me. You help me breathe, when I can’t.”

____________________________________________________

Next Ch. 62 : https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/189275449066/starshine-ch-62 

Chapter Index for “Starshine” is located at bottom section of Ch.1 ,  click here :

https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/184383708541/starshine-ch-1-jimmy

Link to “In The Light” - original fan fic -https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/173286165501/in-the-light-jimmy-page-fan-fiction

JimJam Mistresses :      @tremble-and-shake @ledoftherings @gimmeeshelter @adonna1964 @justanotherzosofangirl @starchild0985 @girlofthemoon75 @bonscottintheimpala @12909168 @jjullz @cherryfloyd @tenementcrazylittlefruitcake @save-me-from-the-gallows-pole @soy-laprincessa @marauderofworlds @ultrabitchystudentperfectionus @satanspizzadeliveryguy @misspenylane @zi-zidane @catherine0627 @strangerspassinginthestreet @ thezeppelinbeatles @pour-some-sugar-on-mee @carryfire18 @j-james-thlk @70shoney​ @page-daddy @nadianad1337 @yerawizardjimmeh @jimmyypagey @magnetacuddles84 @rock6880 @ledxzeppelin @kinkyspice @thelandofnevermore @my-golden-lion @itsblackbetty @luvejimmy  @how-many-more-times-blog @loveinher-eyess @rocknrollababes-blog @princesssofpeace @frauweide @miniaturewinnerwonderland @http-jinx @wanna-be-groupie @where-the-hot-springs-blow @basementmermaid @crying-over-rock-legends @cherrrywitch @scarletrossetti @sixpackonthefrontseat @miamorjimmypage @jimmypageismylife @pennylane1968 @jlmmypage

*Please advise if you would like to be tagged or untagged

[shesdangerace]

Sometimes I’m (not) Alone

So, this is the first reward for the first of two excellent individuals who made the equally excellent choice to vote this past midterms! This lovely person submitted this prompt to @aftgvotes; Andreil + hurt/comfort after a nightmare. Cause I’m such a sucker for those fics myself, I gravitated right to this prompt! It’s also available on AO3; 

Sometimes when the sun comes up, Andrew doesn’t get up with it. Sometimes, some mornings, his head is so heavy with remembering that he can’t move it off the pillow. In the past, it was Andrew alone. Andrew heavy, weighed down, trapped by himself and foreign hands he can no longer place a face to in the dark of his nightmares. These days, these heavy mornings, Andrew is not alone.

Sometimes Andrew wakes up and the curtains have been opened, there’s a coffee with eight teaspoons of sugar by the bed, and a familiar voice reminding people to kindly fuck off for the day it’s not happening.

Today is one such morning.

Andrew takes a sip of his coffee.

Andrew puts his feet on the floor, sits all the way up on the edge of his bed.

Andrew slips back under the covers.

The door opens after a little while, when it’s quiet throughout the rest of the dorm. Neil walks in silently and stoically, because he is only dramatic when it’s necessary or stupid and right now Neil is just concerned.

‘Andrew.’

He says it like he’s waking Andrew up. It usually works. But today it doesn’t get far past the fog in Andrews head.

‘I don’t want to talk.’ Andrew says. He doesn’t care if Neil heard him through the blankets because it doesn’t matter, the message will be relayed just the same.

Neil scoffs quietly.

‘When do you ever?’

He just. Doesn’t want.  Doesn’t want to exist out loud at all. Doesn’t want to remember hands and cold laughs and secrets and shame and pain and blood all over himself all over Aaron all over everything and averted eyes and bruises.

But Andrew, being Andrew, has no choice but to remember.

He had been sleeping, so had Neil.  But he had been dreaming too. Maybe dreaming wasn’t the right word. He had been seeing faces, he had been strapped down, he had been feeling hands and bodies, and like a child he had been looking around for someone to love him enough to make it stop. But they hadn’t been there. No one was there, just faceless hands and a crushing weight. He had been hearing his name, first in voices that made him want to wretch then in a voice so electric and familiar he almost thought it was over. But then the voice had been snatched away, gone gone gone and it wasn’t over.

Until it was. And the lost voice was found, and it had a face looking at him with bright blue eyes alight with worry from the top bunk ladder safely out of the way.

‘Andrew.’

That’s when Andrew truly woke up.

And now afternoon sunlight is streaming through the open window. At some point Neil had left, now Andrew is alone again. He can hear his voice still, arguing with Kevin outside by the Maserati. It sounds a lot like fuck you, it sounds a lot like don’t you fucking dare go up there, it sounds an awful awful lot like that violent smile is on Neils’ face again. Because Neil is sometimes dramatic when he’s concerned, too.

There was so much of it last night, in Neil’s eyes. In his voice when he said Andrew’s name. It was rich with anger, fierce with concern. His body was so still he could have rivaled Andrew’s. He had that look on his face that he gets sometimes, when Andrew hurts.

It was almost frightening.

It’s silent now, and the sun has dipped a little lower. There’s a sandwich on the side table that’s been there for a little while now probably. It looks like white bread, no crusts.

Andrew blinks.

It’s dark, and the sandwich is gone. It’s not silent anymore.

‘I just want to know if he’s okay, okay?’

‘Nicky. Trust me.’

‘Neil –‘

‘Trust me.’

Maybe Andrew was wrong. All that time ago at Eden’s. Maybe he is just fucking stupid. Because it feels as though as long as Neil is here, no one is getting through that door. And Andrew thinks that could be what safety feels like.

--

Sometimes, when Andrew is already feeling, he looks up instead of down. He stares so hard at the sky it all starts to blend into one big infinity. He thinks of Bee, and all her techniques, counting and breathing and looking. But the first thing that ever really worked was infinity. What is a memory against that? After a while, he became so proficient at it that he could create his own infinities, his own galaxies of blank black nothingness inside his own head. He taught himself that one. Obviously.

A couple nights ago Andrew saw someone in his dreams that looked a lot like a memory.

Last night Andrew dreamt again.

Today Andrew flinched.

It was the locker room; he was on the couch, Neil was in the middle, and the space on Neil’s’ other side was suddenly overcrowded by a laughing Nicky trying to squeeze himself in. Neil had been pushed against Andrew completely, and Andrew had flinched so hard away from him he might as well have pushed Neil away.

So now Andrew is on the roof, staring at infinity.

He’s been here for a few hours or some other amount of time before Neil shows up, burning low like an ember, silent and slow.

If he was Renee he’d let Neil paint him brand new. If he was Nicky he’d let himself be kissed all over with lips and affirmations. If he was Kevin he’d drown the night in liquor and face the wrath of an empty bottle and a missed Skype call in the morning. If he was Aaron he wouldn’t say anything at all, just collapse into Neil’s arms and be held until it was over.

But he’s not. He’s Andrew Minyard and he is made of frayed nerves and sometimes touch feels like bleeding. So he lays there on the cold flat rooftop and lets the stars swallow him whole.

The thing is, Neil is not Allison or Erik. He’s not Thea or Katelyn. He’s Neil Abram Josten, a man of many faces and many agonies. He just lies there beside Andrew, a safe distance away, and fights off the hungry mouth of the night sky with his sharp eyes alone.

And he stays there. They both do. Until the night sky becomes the midnight sky. And then Neil looks at Andrew and says:

‘Drive?’

And that’s how they find themselves laying on the grass by some highway instead.

Andrew can hear the cars skidding by, and he wonders if it reminds Neil of anything like it does Andrew. He won’t ask. He kind of wants to though, which he supposes Bee would call a good thing. It seems pointless to Andrew. He already knows the answer.

Neil isn’t looking at him. He hasn’t looked at Andrew for a while now. But Andrew can feel how much he wants to.

‘Neil’.

And there they are, those blue blue eyes like electrical fires.

There are so many things that Andrew could say. That he didn’t see Neil, that he couldn’t feel Neil, that it wasn’t his fault, that it wasn’t about him, that it was the sound of Neil’s voice that prevented something much worse.

But Andrew doesn’t have to.

He just says yes.

Neil reaches his hand through the grass and touches his fingertips against Andrew’s. It feels less like bleeding, more like a flame against the icy surface of Andrew’s skin.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Always with the stupid questions.’

He feels Neil all over, the electric shock of him spreading from their connected hands across the expanse of grass and cold and darkness until he hits those delicate nerves of Andrew’s.

He can almost feel Neil’s smile, the ferocity of him crackling in the air like a bonfire. Andrew’s vision starts to blur before he remembers to blink. He loses it completely until he remembers to open his eyes. The stars look less like stars and more like tiny little pinpricks of silver.

‘For a second there I thought you were asleep. Then I remembered who I was with.’

Foolish Neil, smirking at Andrew and laughing that laugh that hides in the tone of his voice when he speaks.

‘You can sleep Andrew.’

He says it like it’s law, like the sheer stubbornness of one patchwork man could command the very stars themselves.

Andrew closes his eyes.

--

Neil kisses like goodbye sometimes. It would frighten Andrew if his feet weren’t planted so firmly on the ground.

It’s a Tuesday and practice has been over for half an hour already. They’re sat facing each other on one of the locker room benches. No dreams last night.

He can feel Neil’s eyelashes tangling with his, his almost sigh against Andrew’s lips. He can feel the moment Neil opens his eyes.

It’s another five minutes before Andrew opens his.

How stupid can one runaway be, to think Andrew could believe those eyes were brown.

‘How has your sleep been?’

Why must he be so still, so gentle, so unyielding?

‘You’re there every night, you tell me.’

Neil just looks, blazing, into Andrew’s tired eyes. Raises his eyebrows.

‘Better. It’s been better.’

Neil nods without seeming to notice, asks Andrew again ‘Yes or no?’.

Andrew says yes, and he doesn’t need to think about it so Neil doesn’t need to ask again.

It’s more of a hello this time, like Neil has missed him somehow.

The next one is so quiet it could be a whisper. The next is on Andrew’s nose and he doesn’t know why. The next is on his cheek and there Neil stays and there Andrew breathes until he can open his eyes again.

The important thing to remember about Neil is that it’s not the night that comes for him. Not usually. It’s the harsh light of day shining on his scarred face. It’s no shadows to hide in. It’s names no one has the right to call him anymore.

But he is no stranger to the cold of night, or nightmares, or being trapped in a memory you can’t climb out of.

He kisses the skin of Andrew’s cheek again, hands in his own lap, his lips lingering like Andrew is something precious and oh how Andrew hates that.

‘Have you been talking to Bee about it?’ Neil says, and Andrew feels the shape of the words against his own lips.

Andrew nods once, stares into the blue of Neil’s eyes.

Andrew doesn’t always care for his eidetic memory. He doesn’t always care to admit that he is capable of caring. But he also knows (and he doesn’t like to lie so he can’t pretend that he doesn’t) that he has memorised every shade of blue in Neil’s irises. The thin circle of charcoal surrounding his pupils.

He knows how much pain those eyes have caused Neil. But when Andrew wakes up and he can still taste his own pleas, those eyes are the first things to tell Andrew that it’s over. He’s safe.

For a lack of a better, less foolish, word.

He’s spoken to Bee about that too. Yesterday in fact, during a spare moment she had left for him that afternoon. About safety, about who may or may not inspire that word, about the difference between dreams and nightmares and memories.

He told her about open windows and coffee left on the bedside table, about Nicky almost barging down the damn door. He asked her why those things make him think of rooftops and open skies. He told her about infinity. She told him that infinity isn’t too far off from oblivion.

He didn’t tell her about all the different shades of blue in Neil’s eyes. Or the way Neil’s breath shakes between kisses, or about how every time it does Andrew thinks he feels it in his own bones.

‘I’m never letting you get hurt again, Andrew.’

Or about that. That stupid, reckless, hatefully protective emotion in Neil’s voice. How absolute it sounds. So stubborn.

Andrew doesn’t believe Neil has much say in whether or not Andrew hurts. But he knows that when he wakes up, heavy and lost, he won’t be alone.

And he supposes that’s enough.

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

(Mis)Adventures of a Very Gay Explorer

My reward for the wonderful person who submitted a prompt for @aftgvotes.  Their prompt was:  anything with andriel post cannon and I mean like within the next couple weeks or like nicky and/or Matt's view on andriel post cannon.  I hope they -- and you -- enjoy this little bit of silly fluff!  Read on AO3 if you prefer.

Looking back, Nicky wondered how he had missed it.

Not just the fact that Andrew and Neil were together; all of it.  Jesus, he hadn’t even realized his own cousin was gay, which, talk about a complete and utter gaydar failure.  He definitely needed an upgrade on that, as he had told Erik, tangled in his arms during their precious few weeks together.  Erik had laughed and kissed his temple, and asked if it was available on the app store.  And damn, if that wasn’t an idea worth marketing…

But now that he was with them again, he could see it.  The little excuses Andrew made to touch Neil, that he had always made, even back when Neil was new and dark-eyed and dark-haired.  The way Neil always seemed aware of Andrew’s movements, even if he wasn’t obviously watching him.  They orbited around each other like twin stars, each with their own gravity, neither overwhelming the other.  

It was beautiful, even if Nicky didn’t totally understand.

He had never understood love without softness.  Quiet love, he got, no matter what everyone else thought.  His mother’s love had been quiet, though it had also been as fragile as spun sugar.  And with Erik, the moments of deepest connection were ones of murmurs, or no words at all.  That was how he had known, in the end, that it was real.  

But Neil and Andrew weren’t just quiet.  They would mock each other on the court and off it; they were hard pushes and heavy looks.  That sharp edge in Neil’s eyes never smoothed, the rigidity in Andrew’s shoulders never slackened.  The flickers of emotion that would race across Andrew’s face when Neil did something particularly amusing were notable for their intensity but impossible to decipher.

Nicky had a theory, though.  Well, more of a hypothesis.  He firmly believed that they were capable of softness; he needed to believe this, or he would be forever worried that they weren’t healthy for each other.  He just needed some evidence, evidence he was willing to risk life and limb to try to get.

He needed to catch them in their habitat, unawares.

Matt tried to dissuade him with the true-but-irrelevant logic that if they wanted anybody to know what they were up to, they’d be more public about it.  Aaron just shook his head and muttered, “Your funeral,” before turning back to his biology textbook.  Which, it was fucking summer but whatever.

Nicky felt like a researcher, looking to discover the secret mating rituals of the Wild Gays.  (He himself being most definitely a domesticated Gay, and more than contented to be such.)  He started small, watching them more closely when they walked their laps and noting when they were slow to finish up in the locker room.  Sadly, his opportunities to observe were largely restricted by the presence of the Newest Influx of Assholes, a.k.a. The Freshmen.  Neil was on-edge whenever they were around, and for that matter so was Nicky.  

So he changed tactics.  Now that he didn’t room with them his chances to observe them in the dorm were few and far between.  Kevin was a useful, if unwitting, accomplice some days, allowing Nicky to follow him in with only token protest.  Of course, this carried the painful price of Nicky having to watch exy games in their off-season, but whatever.

Unfortunately, it didn’t really help his cause.  Neil and Andrew were frequently absent, and if they were there they were generally silent and were rarely even near each other.  Neil would watch the games with Kevin, and Nicky would be left to observe Andrew impassively smoke or read.  A couple of times Andrew looked up and caught him staring, and Nicky swore to himself he would stop before he got stabbed.

One night Andrew declared, sparking his lighter, that the watching of a single more exy game would result in the suite being set on fire.  Kevin grumbled but didn’t push his luck, and they settled in to watch a movie instead.  Nicky waited for Andrew and Neil to get cozy under the cover of darkness, but though they sat next to each other there were no wandering hands or secret kisses.

It was time for a different approach.  Neil and Andrew had to be going somewhere when they both disappeared after practice, after all.  He checked the parking lot; the Maserati was still sitting there in its shiny glory, which meant they had to be somewhere in or around Fox Tower.  He tiptoed down to the basement; no sign of them.  The stairwells and halls were likewise empty.  It seemed unlikely that they would have walked to the library, and most of the other buildings were closed for the summer.  Which left…

He jogged up the stairs, thinking Wymack would be proud of him when he reached the top and wasn’t even out of breath.  Yes; the door was closed but the lock was obviously compromised.  He almost pushed through, but the Voice of Wisdom that lurked deep within his brain and sounded like Renee suggested he not push his luck that far.  He headed back down to the third floor.

Dan was in her room, with the door open and Allison and Matt lounging across the couches.  “Do I remember that you have binoculars?” he asked.

“Yes,” Dan said cautiously.

“Can I borrow them?”

She opened her mouth as if to ask why, then shook her head.  “I don’t want to know,” she said as she handed them over.  “Just don’t get murdered.”

“Dude,” Matt said, “what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Nicky grinned, taking the binoculars and heading back down the stairs.

There was a little collection of trees conveniently located near one of the footpaths behind the Tower.  Nicky strolled along the path as nonchalantly as he could manage, unsure if someone—two suspicious someones, in fact—was watching him.  When he got to the copse, he slipped into it and found a nice hiding spot from which to train the binoculars on the roof.

They were up there.  He felt the jolt of adrenaline that must be familiar to safari goers and researchers.  Eureka!  He did a tiny dance of celebration then refocused through the binoculars.  

The assholes were just...sitting there.  Close, but not touching.  Both with cigarettes in hand, though only Andrew seemed to be actually smoking.  He couldn’t tell if they were even talking.  After about fifteen minutes, he was hot and sticky and needed a lemonade, so he headed down to the little campus cafe with the super-cute barista.  Andrew and Neil were nowhere to be found when he made his way back a while later.

He checked back the next day, and the next.  It was always the same. Sometimes Andrew stole Neil’s cigarette, and he always lit one for each of them, which was sweet, Nicky supposed, in a cancer-inducing way.  But that could have just been efficiency.  

After three weeks, the only thing Nicky had learned were some of the tendencies of strikers they’d be facing in the fall.  Which seriously seemed like a waste of valuable mental resources when there were still weeks to go before the season started.  He could definitively state that Andrew and Neil seemed content, at the least, with how things were between them, but he had already known that.  

Content wasn’t enough.  Late at night he would lie in bed and think about it.  About what he knew now about the horrors of Andrew’s childhood, and Neil’s too.  And he wondered if maybe...maybe they thought this was all they deserved.  All they were capable of.  Attraction and strong emotion, never tempered by any actual affection.  

“Leave it alone,” Aaron snapped at him, when Nicky brought it up again.  

“But—”

“No.  Just stop.”  He punctuated his words by leaving the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.  Nicky stared after him; he didn’t think he would ever understand his cousins.  How someone could care so painfully much and yet be so averse to any demonstration.

Which...maybe that was true with Andrew and Neil, too.  Maybe it wasn’t up to him to decide if their relationship worked.  Or how, since at least for now it clearly did.  Maybe this was just a step they both needed to take, to learn how to be physical with someone just as broken as they were and then they would move on.  And maybe that was okay.

A few days after he had given up on his research project, he got back to Fox Tower and realized he had forgotten his phone at the stadium.  Matt offered to drive him back to get it, but for once it wasn’t too humid to breathe and he decided to enjoy the brief reprieve of fresh air.  Erik would be proud of him, he decided.  Besides, the walk took him past the cafe and that barista was probably working…

The lights in the stadium were on, which was weird.  Wymack’s office was empty; he must have forgot to shut them off on his way out.  Dropping his empty cup in the trash, he slipped in through the cracked door of the lounge; his phone was probably at his locker, but he might have left it at his chair.  

The faintest murmur hit his ear and he froze.  In the dim light, he caught a flash of blond hair.  For a second he thought he had caught Aaron and Katelyn, but she was gone for the summer.  The quiet laugh that followed was decidedly too deep to belong to a woman.  Holding his breath, he rose up on his toes to try to see over the back of the couch.

Andrew was sitting with Neil’s head in his lap, carding his fingers through his hair.  Neil’s eyes were closed, and he was smiling with a gentleness Nicky had never seen on his face.  Nicky couldn’t see Andrew’s face, but there was something different about his posture.  He wasn’t soft, exactly; just...peaceful.  A sharp edge smoothed in a way Nicky had never thought was possible.

His phone could wait.  This was a moment too private even for an intrepid researcher to intrude upon.  But his hypothesis now had evidence to support it, and he would sleep the sleep of the righteous that night.

By some miracle he managed to escape without either of them noticing.  He made his way back to Fox Tower with that image firmly in his mind, and he was pretty sure he was grinning like a fool by the time he closed his dorm room door behind him.

Aaron was there, staring at his phone with a lovesick expression of his own.  He glanced up at Nicky, then looked at him again.  “What’s with you?”

“Nothing,” Nicky said, and laughed.  “It’s just...it’s all good.”

Aaron stared at him for a minute.  “I told you you didn’t need to worry about them.”

Nicky rolled his eyes as he flopped onto the couch next to him.  “You told me to leave it alone.”

“Whatever.  Neil might be an asshole, but Andrew’s Andrew.”

Aaron didn’t elaborate, but Nicky thought he knew what he meant.  He picked through the contents of the fridge looking for something to eat and thought again about what he knew.  Andrew and Neil might never have known kindness, true; they had never known anything that Nicky would define as love.  But maybe that didn’t matter.  Maybe love, maybe it didn’t get passed down through generations, like some heirloom bowl or blue eyes.  Maybe it was something that could be discovered, deep in the inner recesses of a soul, even after it had been buried under a lifetime of anger and fear and hatred, if only you had a reason to go looking for it.

And maybe that was the most beautiful thing Nicky could imagine.

[spideys-pack]

My Infinity War Theories?!!?!

Alright! Let’s get started! 

Okay, so I think we can all agree that the trailer for Infinity War scared the shit out of all of us and also got the wheels going turning us all into little Sherlocks.. I’m just going to get right into it because I’m not witty enough to have a witty introduction... 

Alright so, Thor is with the Guardians. That was apparent from him landing on their windshield, that’s cool with me. I actually like the idea of Thor meeting them first. This leads me to think something bad is going to happen to Thor at the end of Ragnarok by the way.. Why else would he be floating around in space? 

Anyways (Drinking game, every time I say anyways take a shot, you’ll be right messed up by the time I’m done haha kms), Having Thor with the Guardians might be a could way to get the Guardians to go to Earth. Either They heard about Thanos’ in coming attack or Thor did and they tell each other. Either way, Thor would want to help and I’m pretty sure there’s a few Guardians who would like the chance to punch Thanos in the throat(heart?). So, the Guardians could be Thor’s ride back to Earth to warn the Avengers and probably explain why exactly he’s been MIA. It’s probably going to be hilarious once he gets back to Earth and realizes the petty and tiny humans have been fighting each other. 

The next part I want to talk about in the trailer is everyone’s favourite villain Loki’s appearance where apparently he’s ping ponged back to the dark side after seemingly being chill with Thor in the Ragnarok trailer. Seriously.. He’s like a bungee jumper when it comes to hero and villain. (Still love you tho, boo. And my pet cat is still named after you lol). Loki appears to be handing the Tesseract over to who is most likely Thanos since later on we see him open up a portal and walk through it and the portal looked almost identical to the one Loki opened for the Chituari in the first Avengers movie. I’m hoping Loki will realize he’s dun goofed again and bounce on back to the good side with his bro Thor. 

Next, we go to my bby in New York getting goosebumps on the school bus, which I got way too excited about because one of my favourite powers Spider-Man has is his “Spidey Sense”. I love seeing it in the films, especially Andrew Garfield’s in The Amazing Spider-Man 2. But it appears that they’ve gone with a more realistic/accurate version of the Spidey Senses in Infinity War. Peter’s hair standing on end on his arm, as he gets the itch that something is coming makes me think about how he gets involved. Would Tony actually ask Peter to join this fight after trying to keep him away from danger for basically the whole Homecoming plot or would Peter convince him into letting him try? Maybe thats how he finally gets that sick Iron Spider suit from the end of Homecoming.

We then go to Tony talking about how “He’s coming to us. So that’s what we use”. Perhaps he means where they bring the fight. Maybe they’ll try to keep it out of the major cities, considering the Sokovia Accords are still in play some how. Maybe that’s why it looks like they’re in a wasteland, perhaps they chose a deserted place to bring Thanos to fight. 

Side Note: That shot of Tony, Peter (Parker), Peter(Quill), Drax and Mantis standing there was probably one of my favourites from the trailer... 

Hearing Thanos narrate the rest of the trailer is where I got most of my chills, you realize that he’s not afraid of this huge alliance ready to take him on. He finds it fun and amusing. “This really puts a smile on my face...”. He’s ready, prepared and totally confident he can take them on and win. That’s when we see Star Lord looking scared and going “Oh man.” As that portal I mentioned earlier opens. This makes me think that maybe despite their preparation, Thanos still comes at an inconvenient time. Seeing Thanos without his helmet on makes me uncomfortable.. Like he looks weak. And like a grape flavoured laffy taffy candy... 

Anyways, the next thing we see is the amazing Doctor Strange casting platforms for Star Lord to jump on. This is another one of my all time favourite scenes from the trailer. I love team-up movies simply to see the dynamic they have while fighting and I love to think that Star Lord already has enough faith in Strange to provide him footing while he goes into the fight. It warms my heart. lol. I would just like to take this time to thank Doctor Strange for taking care of my second by during the fight ;P

Next we see a few shots of action including Star Lord going into fight mode and the friendly neighbourhood mouth watering Spider-Man doing a little flip in that AWESOME new suit. 

The next shot shows my dad Bucky Barnes cocking a rifle which I might add made me squeal. We see everyone’s favourite King, T’Challa standing in front of an army which more than likely is his Wakandan forces. Which I’m hella psyched for, would be sick for Bucky to be one of his soldiers or to be one of his Sergeants like he was in WW2 with the 107th. That would probably be good for him... And the feels! Ugh. 

Anyway, the nest thing we see is Wanda and Vision sharing a sad look and this fuels my suspicions that one of the things the Avengers/Guardians are going to be trying to do is protect Vision or more likely the Mind Stone that sits in his forehead... Either way, I don't want Vision or Wanda getting hurt they’re both too precious and cute. 

The next thing we see is Cap. Wait, sorry... BEARDED CAP. He comes out of the shadows and his suit is all darkened, the star has been gouged out. I assume he shows up to help Wanda protect Vision because it looks like they’re in the same place. That’s also where I predict Bucky and Peter (Parker) will end up. 

We see a lot of quick shots next, including a blonde (WHY?) Black Widow, a fighting T’Challa and Falcon and Thanos choke slamming someone, which as much as I hope not, it looks like Tony’s smol son Peter. We go to the next shot which in fact shows Peter apologizing to Tony, laying on the ground. It looks like he’s injured. 

My suspicions are that there was a group acting as first line of defence against Thanos and a second group making sure Vision was kept away from him. My theory was Tony, wanting to keep Peter off the front lines sent him there and the only reason he’s apologizing to Tony is that he failed to protect Vision and got hurt in the process of doing so. (Hopefully its not serious. I would literally die if Spidey got hurt badly tbh). 

Next we see Thanos man handling Thor’s head like a fucking stress ball. Seeing Thor scream in agony seriously hurts my heart. This further promotes my suspicions about his fate which I’ll probably talk about in another post I’ll do about who I think won't make it. 

We see Nebula, looking badass as always, not entirely sure who she’s directing that battle hiss at... Hope she’s on our side... 

Next, we see Drax, Strange, Bruce and what I think is Clint standing in a line, they don't look like they’re in battle mode but the whole looking into the distance theme of this trailer doesn't necessarily mean good things. 

I think we see Cap fighting with Bucky and the Wakandan army in the next shot which is obvious.. I mean if Bucky is awake, Steve wouldn't want to fight anywhere else but next to him. 

We see Star Lord falling to the ground which I am not happy about ONE BIT, and Tony in his suit looking up at the sky, I suspect it’s with a scared expression I can't tell with his Iron Man scowl mask... I presume he’s afraid. We see Thanos throw a haymaker at someone, The video isn't the best quality but it looks like the lights from Tony’s Iron Man suit. 

We see Thanos walking off flexing his fist in the infinity gauntlet. I’m comforted by the fact that the Mind Stone and Time Stone are not in their spots so that probably means Strange and Vision are okay for that time. 

The trailer ends with Thanos literally pulling down pieces of the moon. 

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! 

Now, I do have some theories on who might not make it to the end of the movie but those are for another time I think... I’ve taken up enough of your time blabbing ;p. 

Anyways, thanks for reading, hope my theories make sense to others!! Let’s hope they all make it! 

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Ours

Words: 2015

Archie Andrews x Reader

Requested by Anonymous: Can you do an imagine with Archie where the reader gets pregnant but with everything going on she decides to leave Riverdale, without telling Archie anything, and when things finally quiet down she comes back with the baby and Archie freaks out they make up and it's cute?

Note: Whoever requested this, I’m so glad you did! Anytime I get to write happy Archie stuff, I will gladly take the opportunity. It’s a little sappy, but I  hope this is what you were looking for.

You had held the pregnancy test in your shaking hands, unable to breathe. Positive. No. It couldn’t be. You couldn’t be… pregnant. Riverdale wasn’t safe anymore, especially not for a baby. Archie’s dad was in the hospital, people were still recovering from Jason’s murder, Riverdale wasn’t the innocent town that you had grown to love. It was dark and full of secrets, and with Hiram getting out of prison, who knew what kind of mayhem they would have to face.

That’s why you made the decision to leave. As much as it hurt to say goodbye to everything you knew, it was the only option to keep your child safe. But there was one thing that hurt the most. Archie. How could you leave him now that his dad was in the hospital and he needed you more than ever. If you told him about the baby, he would tell you to stay, that you could figure it out together. How you wished that was true.

You knew that you wouldn’t be able to make it on your own. You had no family, no money, and nowhere to go. Taking a deep breath, you waited in a booth at Pop’s for the person you knew you could trust. Veronica slid into the seat in front of you.

“What’s going on? Are you okay? You said you needed my help.” She rambled, looking at you as if you were going to shatter at any second. It felt like you might.

“I have to leave Riverdale.” You blurted. Her eyes grew wide.

“What? Why?” She moved around the table so she was sitting next to year, holding your face in her hands. “Did something happen.” You looked down at your lap and nodded.

“Vee I’m…” You sucked in a breath. “I’m pregnant.” Her jaw dropped and she covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh my god.” She gasped. She gave you a quizzical look. “Archie’s?” You scoffed.

“Of course it’s Archies!” You said a little too loudly, looking around the diner to see if anyone heard you. Lowering her voice, Veronica leaned in.

“When did that happen?” She couldn’t stop the grin from spreading on her face. She had loved you and Archie as a couple since the day she arrived and stopped at nothing to make sure you two were happy together.

“After Jughead’s party.” You muttered. She wiggled her eyebrows and you groaned. “Can we please just get back to the fact that I can’t stay here?” She calmed down and put on a serious face again.

“Why do you want to leave so badly? I mean, wouldn’t it be better to have Archie around?”

“This isn’t about Archie.” You sighed. “It’s about Riverdale. I can’t raise a child here knowing that one day, I’ll have to explain why they can’t go to the river alone, or why his father can’t go to Pop’s without seeing his dad, bleeding out on the floor!” You wiped away a stray tear and composed yourself again. “And I can’t make Archie leave. His dad, his friend- his life is here. But until everything blows over…” You glanced down at your stomach. “Ours isn’t.”  Veronica nodded, taking your hand in hers.

“Okay.” She pulled out her cell phone. “My mom and I can get you place out of town, and she can probably put in a word for you at a couple jobs.” Hermione was like a mother to you, so when Veronica called her and told her to meet the two of you at Pop’s, she didn’t even ask. When she did arrive, Veronica explained the whole thing.

“Oh, mi hija. Of course we’ll help.” She took you in her arms and you tried so desperately not to cry, but you couldn’t help it. Tears streamed down your face as she ran her fingers through your hair, the way a mother did when she was comforting her daughter.

After two hours of planning, the three of you left the diner, Veronica and her mother going home, and you heading towards your final stop of Riverdale. The hardest part of leaving; Archie.

 He ran his hand down his face, limbs aching with exhaustion as he opened the door. Immediately, he straightened up and plastered on a smile when he saw you. Seeing him so tired, so helpless made all of it so much harder.

“Y/N hey! What are you doing here?” He noticed the redness of your eyes and your quivering lip and stepped out onto the porch. “Hey,” He placed his hand on your cheek, wiping your tears away with his thumb, “hey what’s wrong?” Every part of you wanted to melt into his arms and tell him everything. Tell him that he was going to be a father. But you couldn’t, so you stepped away from him, confusion spreading over his features.

“I’m-” Your voice caught in your throat. “I’m leaving.” His confusion was joined by hurt.

“Now? After everything that’s going on?”

“It’s because of everything that’s going on that I have to go Archie.” Your hand instinctively reached for your stomach, but you dropped your arm before he noticed. “I can’t stay here. Riverdale isn’t what it used to be. It’s not the town I fell in love with you in.”

“What about me, Y/N? My dad is in the hospital and I have no idea whether or not he’s going to…” His voice trailed off and a single tear made its way down his face.

“I know, Archie. I know it’s awful and I feel awful but I can’t-” You were cut off by a kiss. When he pulled away, he was fully crying and his eyes pleaded with you to stay.

“We can get through all of this together. Please… stay.” You pulled him into one last kiss before hurrying down the porch stairs and away from the house. Archie watched you go until you had disappeared down the street. He clenched his fists, and fell to his knees, hitting the floor with his good hand. You tried to ignore the feeling eating at you mind, but it was too much. Even though the rest of your future was undetermined, you knew one thing; Archie would never forgive you.

The driver watched you in the rearview mirror. He smiled at the infant pulling at the collar of your dress. The baby’s tufts of red hair went in every direction and his big brown eyes stared up at you.

“Where to miss?” The driver asked politely. You didn't even need to think about the answer.

“The Pembroke please.” You glanced out the window at the buildings passing by. It had been almost a year and a half since you left Riverdale and it felt so good to be back again. The baby let out a playful laugh and you grinned down at him. “We’re home.”

As soon as the car pulled up to the curb, Veronica rushed out of the building and engulfed you in her arms when you opened the door. You nearly cried in relief of seeing your best friend again. You hadn’t seen her since the hospital eight months ago when you were in labor. Hermione followed soon after. You had decided to come back after everything had settled down. Hiram had been arrested for organizing the hit on Mr. Andrews and was now going to prison for the rest of his life. Riverdale had become Riverdale again.

“Tell me everything about the past year, don’t leave out a single detail.” Veronica commanded and you started telling her about your job at a small cafe and the different people you met, all of them reminding you of your friends here, making you miss them even more. She pushed passed you to the car, peaking inside at your son. “Oh my god! He’s so precious. Can I?” You nodded with a smile and she picked him up out of his carseat, scooping him up in her arms. “Hi… I’m your Aunt Veronica.”

“He looks just like his father.” Hermione noted. You shifted awkwardly, your eyes dropping to your feet.

“How is he?”

“He misses you.” She answered. Veronica handed the baby to her mother.

“After you left, he was a mess. But after his dad got out of the hospital, things started getting better. Even then, he hasn’t dated anyone else. I don’t think he ever gave up on the hope that you’d be coming back.” She added.

“He must hate me.” You sighed. Her jaw dropped.

“Are you kidding me?” She had Hermione strap the baby back in his seat. “Come on.” You opened your mouth to protest, but she held up her hand. “No buts. Did you not hear what I said? He has been waiting for you. It was both the most pathetic and romantic thing I have ever seen.” She grabbed your hand and pushed you into the front seat of the car, herself taking the one in the back. She told the driver his address and he went without question.

Nerves knotted themselves together in your stomach. Did he really want you back? After leaving him when he needed you most, how could he still love you? The car pulled up to the house and you felt sick. Veronica opened your door, your baby squirming around in her arms.

“Well…” She waited for you to get out before giving you the child and marching up the porch steps you had run down what felt like forever ago. She knocked on the door and waited. It wasn’t long before the red headed boy you had missed so much appeared in front of you.

“Veronica, what are you doing-” He stopped, breath hitching in his throat. He stared at you over Veronica’s shoulder. “Y/N?”

“That’s not the only surprise, Archiekins.” She stepped to the side and revealed what you were holding. “Ever wonder why Y/N left? That’s why. She didn’t leave because of you Archie. She left because she was pregnant… with your baby.” She moved away so the two of you could face each other fully.

“Is that true?” He asked, his voice cracking. You nodded, tears spilling out of your eyes. He reached out to the baby and his tiny hand latched onto his finger. “What’s his name.”

“Freddie.” You had named him after Archie’s father, who had been the kindest, most influential person in your life. He had helped you through so many things and you wanted to make sure that he would be remembered through your son if didn’t make it through the accident. Luckily he did. Archie smiled and bit his lip, playing with Freddie, who giggled merrily.

“He’s perfect.” You handed him to Veronica, a little amused by the way Archie pouted his lips when Veronica took Freddie in her arms.

“He’s just like his dad.” You laughed, but then the nerves came back. “Archie… I know what I did was stupid and inconsiderate to you, but I was hoping-” Before you could finish, he pressed his lips to yours, still grinning madly. You kissed back, ignoring the way Veronica sighed happily.

“Whatever it is, yes.” Archie beamed. “I’ll go to all those parenting classes, or I’ll watch over him every weekend. Anything. I want to be a good father.”

“I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that Archie Andrews.” You pulled him in for another kiss, a blissful peace setting over you. Everything was falling into place. Suddenly you pulled back.

“What? What is it?” Archie looked over you, checking to see if he had broken anything, like you were some fragile doll.

“We have to tell your dad.” You said and he scoffed.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” He snickered. “Y/N, my dad likes you more than he likes me. And I’m pretty sure the fact that you named his grandson after him will get you a few extra points.” He continued where you left off.

“I love happy endings!” Veronica squealed. And this was definitely the happiest ending you could have wished for.  

Part Two