#i know i said i might post last night but i had food coma---

[avaetin]

I can't win when @drksanctuary discusses Nicobaster. So have this instead of Record 07, while I mentally berate myself for succumbing to writing this instead-

Premise according to drk: This is Vol 2 of the Mist Comic. They're at Al's after the *ehem* club scene. Enjoy.

Bet.

It’s when Alabaster’s rough hand caressed his bare skin that clarity returned to Nico. Rigidly, he pulled back, separating their lips from their sensual embrace. But that didn’t stop Alabaster who went to trace his plush lower lip with the tip of his tongue before his mouth latched onto the curve of his neck. The foreign sensation of tongue, teeth and lips against his dewy skin almost had Nico giving in – to be marked by Alabaster in ways Will probably could and would never – but the guilt in his heart far outweighed the promised temporary gratification.

“A-Al…” Even the way the son of Hecate’s name rolled off of his tongue was sin-incarnate. It was pure agony to deny them both of this; Nico knew as much. But it was right… or so he’d like to believe. “Stop. We– I shouldn’t.”

That’s right. It was not a ‘we’ situation. Alabaster was free to be with anyone. Just... Just not him. At the moment.

At the moment? Nico questioned. No. No, no, no. Just not him. Period. That was how his thoughts should have concluded. Because although they were on a ‘trial separation’, he was still with Will.

“... No?” Alabaster paused to whisper against a new, dark mark on his neck. His voice hinted at skepticism and disbelief, while dripping with passion, want, and need. Nico decided to focus on the former two.

“I–I have a boyfriend.” It felt absolutely ridiculous to mention it, hours into their not-so subtle flirtations at the club, and minutes into their heated make-out session in Alabaster’s bedroom, with their shirts and pants on the floor. It felt absolutely ridiculous to mention it when Nico saw pure, unadulterated desire in those chartreuse-green eyes and his own being mirrored in them.

“I thought you’re on a break?” Alabaster asked.

When he started to pull away, for a brief moment, the sense of disappointment and regret that crushed Nico’s chest for ruining... whatever it was between them had been overwhelming. It was a mistake, he almost blurted out. Have me, he was tempted to say if that was what it took to have Alabaster’s weight pressing him down on his bed once more. But before he could say anything, Alabaster moved down his body, settling between his legs.

“What was it again that you said?” Alabaster mused, his fingers tracing random patterns on Nico’s chest. “Something about ‘trying new things’... ‘Seeing other people’–” He flicked and rolled Nico’s nipples on his fingers a few times, earning himself a needy whimper.

“‘It’s complicated’... ‘Nevermind, Torrington’,” Alabaster continued, leaning down to bite and suck on one of his nipples for a few seconds before releasing it with a soft ‘pop’.

“Well, what do you know? I can be your ‘trying new things’ and ‘seeing other people’,” Alabaster proposed, his hands sliding down Nico’s sides before stopping to curl around his thighs, gripping them firmly to keep them in place as he settled at the bottom of the bed. “I’ll be your simplicity amidst your complication.”

“Let me make it uncomplicated: I want to ruin you, Nico,” Alabaster admitted with a low chuckle, his breath fanning hotly against Nico’s inner thighs as he traced his name on the trembling skin with his lips. “I want to corrupt you and expose all your desires. I want to tie you down and make you lose your mind until there’s nothing left in there but my name.”

“I’m no saint, Nico. I want you to need me and only me.”

“I... I don’t know,” Nico mumbled, his head a mess. Alabaster wasn’t helping him keep a clear head as the man’s tongue slowly licked along the crease between his thighs and groin, teasing him with its scalding warmth and proximity to his member. The image he presented would be branded onto Nico’s mind for days, maybe weeks or months even, leaving his body burning, yearning, with a desire he refused to acknowledge until now.

He wanted Alabaster, he always had. His body ached to be claimed by him with an all-too consuming passion.

“If you don’t want to, we won’t. You don’t owe me an explanation,” Alabaster assured him. What a liar, Nico wanted to accuse the moment he felt a hand cupping him through his boxers, massaging him, tempting him to give in. Just once, his actions seemed to taunt him in his head. Lose yourself to me just once. But he knew that it would never be just once. As if reading his thoughts, Alabaster continued, “But I need you to know: You let me have you once, I’ll make sure you won’t ever want to go back.”

You’ll be mine, was unspoken.

Nico whimpered at the promise, his eyes expressing his desire openly. He wanted... Gods, he really, really wanted to say yes. He wanted to have all of it. He wanted Alabaster, and he wanted Alabaster to have him; ruin him. He wanted–, no, needed to know what it would be like to belong to this man.

… But...

“... Let’s… Let’s not,” Nico eventually replied in a strained voice.

Anger and frustration slowly festered in his chest as he acknowledged his current situation. He felt anger towards himself for not allowing him to have this. He felt anger towards Alabaster for making him want what he shouldn’t. Last but not least, he felt anger towards Will for making him deny this. What frustrated him most was that he didn’t know if it was just of him to blame anyone but himself.

Sensing his inner turmoil, Alabaster stared into his eyes and quietly assessed the situation. His expression was calm and composed as he, in the end, pulled away completely and mumbled a simple ‘okay’, granting Nico’s request.

Nico felt anger towards the fact that he didn’t insist a bit more. Nico felt anger towards his own body for mourning at the loss of his touch.

“... Should I leave?” Nico hesitantly asked, leaning on his elbows while Alabaster moved to lay down beside him on the bed. It would be the proper thing to do, although they were clearly way past that. But deep down, he wanted to stay. He clearly didn’t know what he wanted to happen, only knew what shouldn’t.

“Well…” Alabaster drawled, turning to face Nico. Nico’s breath audibly hitched under his intense, probing gaze. “Sex is off the table, but…”

Alabaster slowly raked his gaze over Nico’s body. He didn’t bother to hide his desire, not when Nico was matching it with his.

Patience was not one of his strengths, but he supposed he could wait. Nico could go back to his perfect boyfriend to appease his morals, but both of them knew… Now that they had a taste of each other, the only end there was in sight was Nico belonging to him.

“Do you still want to make out?”

Nico didn’t verbally respond; he let his body do the talking. Without hesitation, he straddled Alabaster’s hips and desperately claimed his lips. It was not lost on him how Alabaster’s lips curved into a grin against his.

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ HEY TWITTER! (AA23)

pairing: alex albon x f!reader

summary: alex spends the night of a concert dancing with a beautiful stranger, he remembers everything about her, from her outfit to what her favorite song was — well, except for her name.

genre: humour, fluff

authors note: dedicated to my fabulous 🪐 anon for the most incredible idea (and also just being the most beautiful human being)

*faceclaim for y/n: yasmin wijnaldum (but please imagine her as you see fit)

dutch anthem antis ੈ✩‧₊˚

alex_albon just tweeted ੈ✩‧₊˚

twitter reacts ੈ✩‧₊˚

meanwhile, texts between lily and y/n ੈ✩‧₊˚

lilymhe just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername and 23,018 others

lilymhe one of us had way too much to drink last night, you have one guess

view all comments

yourusername um idk this is really difficult

lilymhe it’s the sticker gem still on your face that is getting me

user wait…. is this her…

lilymhe is this WHO

user GUYS I THINK THIS MIGHT BE HER

user GOOD JOB INTERNET

user @/alex_albon CAN YOU CONFIRM OR DENY

alex_albon OH MY

user IM TAKING THAT AS A YES

new activity ੈ✩‧₊˚

alex_albon started following yourusername ➡️

⬅️ yourusername followed alex_albon back

dutch anthem antis ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/n’s dms with alex ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon and 50,081 others

yourusername challenge: which one of us had the most fun this past few days

view all comment

alex_albon well if you don’t say you then i fear i bought you dinner for no reason

user IT WAS HER!!! WE DID IT GUYS

user he found out who she was a few hours ago and he’s already on her instagram… maybe he has more power than we thought

lilymhe definitely not me i’ve been sat in a hotel room while you go meet boys

yourusername he bought doughnuts for us to share. omw to you with them now🤝

lilymhe i take it back @alex_albon you can stay

alex_albon just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername and 150,608 others

alex_albon a story in 3 parts

view all comments

user idk what you did but i’m sure you deserved that middle finger

yourusername that food coma hit different

lilymhe you’re telling me i walked in to you both laying like vampires passed out

user the plot thickens

user heavily entertained by the idea of alex legitimately falling in love with a girl whilst drunk, hunting her down using the internet, and then going instagram official within 72 hours

user i don’t think they’re dating aha

user @/user ok well if he doesn’t want her then i do

user okay answer quickly are y’all dating

yourusername no one knows

alex_albon dating? what’s dating?

dutch anthem antis ੈ✩‧₊˚

williamsracing just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, mclaren and 100,058 others

williamsracing hit tweet, who’s this?

view all comments

user WILLIAMS I LOVE YOU

lilymhe can u ask him to order me more doughnuts pls

user so real, using best friend privileges

user he’s not a want but a need

yourusername oh i miss that face already☹️

liked by alex_albon

mclaren @/williamsracing heard you may be in need of our services…?

williamsracing we’re listening👀

mclaren plans are already in action🤝

yourusername just tweeted ੈ✩‧₊˚

twitter reacts ੈ✩‧₊˚

williamsracing just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

dutch anthem antis ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by lilymhe, landonorris and 56,109 others

yourusername safe to say he learnt the meaning of the word dating

view all comments

user FINALLY

user alex albon most successful twitter user

lilymhe AND I DIDNT HEAR ABOUT THIS???

yourusername i tried to ring you but you didn’t pick up😔

lilymhe @/yourusername RING ME AGAIN WTF

alex_albon @/lilymhe she’s busy rn😁

lilymhe @/alex_albon GROSS

alex_albon @/lilymhe NOT LIKE THAT

alex_albon just posted a photo, 1 year later ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 105,660 others

alex_albon got her number, remembered her name, kept her around for a year

view all comments

user wow who said romance was dead huh

user when we talk about having fanfic moments… that’s these two

user ok now bring her to the next race we miss seeing her in the paddock

landonorris and yet IM the one with no rizz

yourusername your girlfriend literally called you cute and you folded. shut up.

landosgf babe our relationship started because you hit me with your car ? that’s not rizz it’s stupidity

landonorris i regret ever introducing you two

yourusername i love you, or whatever🙄

mclaren @/williamsracing i’m not seeing a thank you?

williamsracing logan would have thanked us

alex_albon yes that’s right set him up next

logansargeant no thank yOU i can’t deal with the headache

——————

a/n: okay🤓 first post in a while. half written pre baby half written post. hopefully i’ve still got it LMAO. off to finish some written bits / write a new oscar imagine idea i had over the month

will i ever stop this mclaren matchmaking saga? i don’t think so

taglist: @iloveyou3000morgan @scopeiguess @gwginnyweasley @hetfieldd @sweetbabygirlsworld @wittywhispers @bingewatche @sebvettelsgirl @casperlikej @geniusalpaca @namgification @orangetreekid @

[writingsfromhome]

Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

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

“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?” 

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.

[halloweenhoneylover]

the struggle bus

summary: spencer is the kindest human alive, which makes things tough for the reader :/ (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 5.3k (a doozy kinda!)

warnings: i guess angst, but really just idiots in love (my fav trope). reader is kind of a hot mess. also, mention of overdose via multivitamin.

author’s note: hi, it’s been approx 4000 years since i last posted, but it’s just because i have no concept of ‘efficiency’ or ‘speed.’ but it’s okay. some of this is good, some of this is eh, make of that what you will. also, this is supposed to be #funny sometimes so uhhhh, keep that in mind. ALSO, the title is majorly stupid, but it was the title of the google doc, and i couldn’t think of anything else......anyways, love u!

For once, the bullpen was quiet.

Spencer was immersed in some case file, doing some work that you should have probably been doing as well, but it was approaching the late hours of the night, and you would barely be able to keep your eyes open if you came even close to trying to read or write. Your desks were situated against each other, so you shifted your gaze across the small divider to him. His sharp features were softened in the lamplight, a sight that tugged on your heartstrings, and you took a moment to just look at him. Most everyone else was gone or was too focused on getting their work done to pay attention to your reverie. Derek, if he were here, would dub you as ‘lovesick’ and shoot mischievous smirks and wiggling eyebrows in your direction, but luckily for you, he was not. Twisting carelessly in your chair with your feet propped on the desk, you chewed absentmindedly on a pen, lost deep in thought. “Hey, Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He continued scribbling on the file without so much as a glance towards you, but that was perfectly fine by you, more time for not-creepy staring.

“How many of my vitamins do you think I could eat before I died?”

At this, he furrowed his brow and neatly laid his pen down.

“That depends on what vitamin you’re taking. If you’re talking about iron supplements, the limit is somewhere around 20mg of elemental iron per kilogram of body weight. Any more than that will have incredibly unpleasant side effects like abdominal pain, persistent vomiting, rapid breathing, and coma. However, if you’re talking about Vitamin C, it’s virtually impossible to overdose, but you might get a bad headache if you supersede 2000 mg.”

“Okay, what about my gummy vitamins?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “While it still depends on what vitamins are included, eating a whole bottle of your typical multivitamin could easily result in death.”

You mulled this over. “So, I should definitely not go home and eat the rest of my gummy vitamins tonight?”

Spencer chuckled, “I’m not a medical doctor, but yes, I’d recommend that you don’t do that.”

Tossing your head back and letting out a small groan, you protested, “But Spencer, my gummy vitamins taste so good! And I have no food at home, so I guess I either die by overdose on gummy multivitamins or starvation.”

He couldn’t help but grin at your melodrama. It could be 12:06 in the morning, and you could still somehow make him laugh. He was starting to understand that he was in too deep, but he also had the startling realization that he didn’t mind drowning if it was in you. 

“You’ve got quite the predicament on your hands there, (Y/N). Maybe you should go grocery shopping with me the next time I suggest it, so you don’t end up in this situation again.”

“Oh my god, dude!” you moaned. “I told you I was actually busy; I had to take Oscar to the vet for his vaccines! I try to be a good mother to my dog, and you know I’m not an anti-vaxxer. I’d never decline time with my favorite guy without a good reason.”

Spencer’s heart was doing somersaults at the thought of him being your favorite guy. He’d won plenty of awards and medals in his lifetime, but somehow, none of those measured up to the accomplishment of being your favorite. Pride and butterflies boiled in his stomach. 

“Alright, fine, I’ll let it slide this time.”

You snorted, “I appreciate your unmatched benevolence, Dr. Reid.” Locking eyes with him, you tried to dampen the lava flow of heat in your chest that erupted when he looked at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen, but you failed miserably. You had to clear your throat and look away; it was becoming all too much. “Hey, I’m gonna run to the restroom. Don’t leave without me!”

As you dashed away, a thought crossed Spencer’s mind, and he stood up and set off down the opposite hallway.

You returned a few minutes later to an empty bullpen which made you frown, and your heart sank. You had thought he was going to wait, but guess not. Sighing, you tried to not let it sting too badly when you noticed a light on in JJ’s office. You knocked and pushed the already ajar door with a quick hello? before being met with an exhausted-looking JJ.

“Hey, (Y/N). I thought everyone had left by now.”

“Nope, not quite yet,” you replied, offering a weak smile. JJ noticed and wrote it off as fatigue. “You didn’t happen to see Spencer leave a couple minutes ago, did you?”

“Uh, no, I thought he’d gone too.”

“Hm, okay, thanks anyway!”

You prepared to leave, but she stopped you, cocking her head. “Why do you ask? Is he still here?”

Leaning your head against the doorframe, you sighed. “I’m not sure. He was here when I went to the bathroom, but he wasn’t at his desk when I came back. I’m a little disappointed. We always walk out together because we’re both afraid of the parking garage at night.”

A grin simmered on JJ’s face at that fact. “Well, I could walk you out if you’d like?”

“Nah, that’s okay; I don’t want to bother you.”

There was something behind JJ’s eyes you couldn’t identify as she replied, “Alright, then. Just let me know if you change your mind.” She definitely wasn’t thinking about how you didn’t want her intruding on a you-and-Spencer tradition. Not that she minded! She’d been rooting for you both since the minute you’d stepped into the BAU, and Spencer had looked like he was about ready to melt into the floor at the sight of such a pretty girl.

“Thanks, Jayje.”

Dragging your feet a little, you made your way back to your desk to gather your things, trying to fend off the disappointment. You had gotten your jacket on and were about to pick up your bag when you heard a (Y/N)! from down the hall. Well, that was certainly not JJ. Hesitantly, you called out, “Spencer?”

He finally emerged with his arms loaded with...something, you couldn’t discern what in the dim light. His face lit up like the Vegas strip when he saw you. “(Y/N)! I didn’t want you starving or eating all of your vitamins, so I went down to the vending machine and got you a couple snacks!” Arriving at his desk, he dropped the various bags and packets on his desk, and your eyes widened immensely.

“A couple? Dude, did you buy out the whole machine?”

Slightly breathless from his quick jog back, he waved a dismissive hand. “It was nothing. And hey, look!” He picked up a bag. “Fruit snacks! Just like your vitamins, but without the part where you get really sick.”

You were astonished, to say the least. And minorly speechless too, as evidenced by your mouth that was gaping like a fish. “Spencer...this is so nice. You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.”

At that, your face nearly split in two, and he mirrored your grin. You thought you might pass out at his kindness, and you knew you’d be thinking about this every day for the next two weeks at least. Your expression then turned mischievous, as you tried to tamp down all of the warmth bubbling in your stomach. “Do you want to help me try to fit all this in my bag?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

——— 

Garcia had been practicing her ukulele peacefully when she got the call.  (Well, ‘peacefully’ might have been a stretch as she had threatened to smash the object on her coffee table when she simply could not get the finger picking pattern she’d practiced for what seemed like hours, but it was supposed to be a relaxing hobby, so yes, it was peaceful.) Huffing a sigh of relief when the caller ID said [(Y/N/N)!!] with the longest stream of heart emojis and not [hotch >:( ], she picked up with her usual air of cheer. “What can I do ya for, my loveliest, most bewitching—”

She was cut off abruptly by the sounds of your horrible, heart-wrenching sobs, and her brows furrowed in concern. “Oh no, my sweet! What’s wrong?” She had to wait a few moments for your tears to calm (somewhat) while you tried to wrangle in your breath, so you could form some sort of sentence.

“Penny!”—gasp—“Oh my God,”—hiccup—“it looks so bad!” With your last word, you tumbled into incoherent bawling once again.

“Dear, what looks so bad?” She held her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she began to gather up her things. Whatever was wrong, it was clear you needed some good, old-fashioned Garcia TLC, and she was ready to give it.

The sniffling subsided minorly, and you choked out, “Remember when we were talking the other day, and I mentioned that my hair had gotten a little too long for my liking?” Oh no, Garcia could see where this was going. “Well, I figured I’d spend our evening off getting my hair cut, and I went to that new hairdresser, and oh Penelope, it looks awful. I don’t think I can ever go out in public again.” With that, your tears resumed.

“Darling, you know I’ve been where you are, and I know it seems bad right now, but everything will be fine. Let me grab my scissors and I’ll be over faster than you can say, ‘Penny, I love you so much, you truly are my fairy godmother.’”

You paused before whispering into the phone, “Penelope, I do love you so much, and you are my fairy godmother. But please, hurry.”

And hurry, she did.

Garcia was knocking on your door a little over five minutes later, which was incredibly suspicious because she lived at least 10 minutes away on a good day, but in the state of your disarray, you were not inclined to care. She sat you down on the toilet in your bathroom, whipping out her hair care set (she had definitely spent a significant amount of time dabbling in cosmetology, and it was desperate times like this when it came in handy). Squeezing your eyes shut through most of it, she snipped here and there, trying to make the best of this...horribly atrocious cut (seriously, that hairdresser should be sued), and when she was finished, it was not as bad as when they started, but it still wasn’t great. The rest of the evening was spent watching cheesy rom-coms and baking in an attempt to get your mind off of your hair.

Everything was mostly fine until the next morning, when you realized you’d have to go into work like this, and as terrifying as that prospect was in a normal work environment, you also worked in a place with an abnormal amount of hot people. (And you happened to be developing feelings for one of those hot people, but your brain was insistent upon ignoring that for the time being.)

Already anticipating your worries, Penelope had sent a text without your knowledge to a BAU group chat that excluded you (she had one of these for every member, it just made surprise birthday party planning so much easier).

[penelope :)] please DO NOT MENTION (Y/N)’S HAIR!!!! she got a bad haircut and she feels really terrible about it and doesn’t want to think about it so do not talk about it!!!

[jennifer!] Oh, no! :( Lips are sealed!

[rossi ;)] rip.

Emerging from the elevator in the nicest work outfit you own (an attempt to distract from the monstrosity), you scurried to Garcia’s lair before anyone could see you. Once inside, you slammed the door shut, and leaning against it, you slid down and covered your face with the files in your hands. “Pennyyyyy,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can do this!”

She swiveled to face you with a look of empathy. “Sugar, I know you can. It—it doesn’t even look that bad!” But Garcia was a horrible liar, and if looks could kill, she would have been dead instantaneously. 

Heaving yourself up off the floor, you came to sit in the seat next to her. “Can’t I just work in here today? And maybe for the rest of time?”

“You know I would love that, but those other lovely people on our team need you! Especially the young doctor, you know he’d be lonely without you.”

As if her mention had summoned him, Reid opened the door to their secret meeting, files in hand, and your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. Garcia stared at him very intensely, attempting to telepathically tell him to not mention the hair, and you looked like a deer in the headlights, trying to figure out a way to hide yourself from him and possibly the entire universe. And poor Reid shifted his gaze between the two of you, helplessly confused as to what he had walked into. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no!” Garcia said in the least convincing manner.

“Okay,” he responded, not convinced in the slightest. “I just came to give you some files from Hotch.” So, he handed Garcia the papers and then turned to leave when you caught his eye. 

And because he was not the greatest with technology, Spencer had not checked his phone that morning…. Meaning he had not seen Garcia’s text. So he looked at you a moment and cocked his head. “Your hair looks really nice today, (Y/N). Did you get it cut?”

This time, it was Garcia’s turn to glare (because read your texts, dammit!), and you fumbled for a response. As you scanned his face, searching for a sign that he was lying, that he was just saying something to make you feel better, you came up empty. He was telling the truth. He genuinely thought your hair looked nice. “Um, uh—yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing.”

“You’re welcome.” He offered you a smile, which you returned easily (a fact that surprised you). “See you.” Retreating from the office because the vibes in there were weird, he shut the door, finally leaving you and Garcia alone again. 

You were reeling.

You thought about when you had gotten dressed that morning, and you had entertained each outfit with great scrutiny, trying to come up with something that might draw attention away from your hair. In that half hour you’d spent, you had realized that you didn’t really mind looking bad in front of Morgan or Emily or Hotch or really anyone on the team. Almost anyone. With an increasing amount of discomfort, you had realized you didn't want to look bad in front of Spencer. Of course, he’d never judge you, but you wanted to look good for him. For your best friend.

And he told you your hair looked nice.

You smiled to yourself.

Garcia turned to you with a look of shock on her face. Had that been anyone else, she was sure you would have curled up in a ball beneath her desk and would not have left until every single other person had left the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but you hadn’t, and she smirked.

Oh, she knew where this was going.

——— 

To put it lightly, it had not been the best of mornings. 

It seemed that everything that could’ve gone wrong did, so you burst past the glass doors of the BAU six minutes late with a coffee-covered shirt, mud-stained pants, soggy shoes, and a most miserable attitude. Hotch, while a sympathetic man, was still your boss with rules to follow and when you stumbled into the bullpen, gave a pointed stare between you and the clock, and you nodded sullenly. You understood his silent admonition, but knowing that he was even slightly disappointed in you, made your knees want to buckle. Swallowing around the slug in your throat, you set your bag down beside your chair and noticed a foreign object sitting on your desk. Interest thoroughly piqued, you reached forward to find it was a book with a satin ribbon tied on it.

It truly was a beautiful book with a deep crimson hardcover and the kind of deckled edges that you loved. Running your fingers along the rough-hewn pages, you finally noted the title, and you gasped. Beloved by Toni Morrison. Your favorite. The cursive words curved in black on the cover to match the ribbon, and you carefully traced the curling letters, wondering where this gorgeous book could have come from.

In the desk across from yours, Spencer watched the scene in front of him with a grin. He couldn’t help but feel pleased at the look of awe on your face as you inspected the book with careful fingers and a gentle gaze, and his heart swelled more and more the longer he looked. “Did you know that Margaret Garner, the woman the character Sethe is based on, her trial was used as part of an effort to dismantle the Fugitive Slave Act?” Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and those stupid freaking butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach as you realized who had gifted you the book. “The presiding judge didn’t accept her lawyer’s argument that the act violated the right to religious freedom, but it was still somewhat of a turning point in the movement to strike down the law.”

“I did not know that, but thank you. For the fact and the book.”

“You’re welcome.” He had to avert his eyes from your strong gaze because he thought he might melt otherwise.

“Please don’t misinterpret this as me being ungrateful because I’m so, so thankful, but why?”

He shrugged, “I was just in the book store, and it made me think of you.” No, he didn’t keep an eye out specifically for this book on his weekly trip to the bookstore by his apartment after you had briefly mentioned your love of Ms. Morrison’s metaphors. And he definitely didn’t ask the owner Alice if she would let him know if she ever got any new copies.

Frankly, you were at a loss for words. Combing back through your conversations with him, you tried to remember when you had talked about the book, but you couldn’t come up with anything other than a couple words tossed briefly here and there. Suppose it wasn’t really the fact that he had heard, but the fact that he had listened. He listened and remembered things about you, little things tucked in the back of his brain, and it was how he thought about you even when you weren’t around. So, you clutched the book to your chest tightly as if it could meld with your heart and let your thoughts rage with the implications for a minute before smothering your mushy grin and tucking the book into your bag.

(Later, you pulled it out on your ride home on the metro. Spencer had already gotten off at his stop a few minutes before, so you took this moment of solitude to revel in the glory of your new gift. Every time you smoothed a hand over the cover, your mind was overwhelmed with what-ifs. What if he felt the same? What if his stomach rumbled with the same butterflies when you looked at him? What if this means he likes you as more than…. And abruptly, you were doused in doubt once again, muzzling those dangerous, rearing hypotheticals. This was a path that would only lead to disappointment.

Those thoughts only got worse when you read his inscription, though:

Dear (Y/N/N),

I hope you find great joy in reacquainting yourself with the graces of Ms. Morrison’s elegant prose in this new copy. I was inspired by your praise and read this classic again, and I can say that I definitely understand your veneration of her story-telling. Hopefully, we can discuss it soon, so I can try to see all of the details that you so admire. You are always much better at appreciating the finer things in life.

She says that, “something that is loved is never lost.”

I hope you know that you will never be lost to me.

Sincerely,

Spencer

(P.S. I wrote this in pencil, so you can erase and have the clean copy you wanted.)

You would never erase it.)

——— 

“Hey, are you alright?”

You sat at your desk with your head in your hands. Your responding “no” came out muffled. 

Spencer frowned and sat on the edge of your desk. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Running your hands over your face, you finally met his gaze. His eyes were soft as they searched your own, and the expression on his face was not of pity or frustration but empathy, and of course, he was just being his sweet self. Your eyes watered in response, and his heart clenched at the sight. You shifted your eyes somewhere else, anywhere else. “Uh, no.”

It was clearly a lie.

Furrowing his brows at your obfuscation, he scanned your face for any indication of what might be the problem. A small sigh. He came up with nothing. “Alright,” he conceded hesitantly. “May I ask what is wrong?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You stared down at the files neatly ordered on your desk, trying to mentally shoo him away with the sheer force of your willpower alone. But Spencer Reid was a stubborn man, and you knew this, and you also knew he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were alright. So, you both sat in the silence of the bullpen that only accompanied the arrival of midnight. The glow of your lamp bathed the vicinity in a warm yellow, and the tick of the nearby clock rattled around your chest as you attempted fruitlessly to subdue your incessant thoughts. He was close enough that you could hear the soft susurration of his exhales as his eyes flitted about the room to give you some sort of breathing room, and you shut yours for a moment to appreciate this moment of peace before the inevitable catastrophe to follow.

“I’m—uh, not okay.”

Finally turning back to you with a mildly surprised expression (he didn’t expect you to say anything so soon. Or so bluntly.), he offered you one of his signature tight-lipped smiles as encouragement to continue.

“I’m kind of really struggling…” you trailed off, gaze empty, ensnared in your thoughts.

Ever the gentleman with persistence that could last a thousand years, he gently prompted, “With…?”

A strong gulp and eyes squeezed shut. “With you.”

Well, that was not the answer Spencer was expecting. He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and he was hollow and shaken and in pain. Gaping, he fumbled hopelessly for an answer, trying to find some reason you could be upset with him. He had always thought you two were the best of friends; he’d never doubted that before. How could he have missed this?

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he strained to ask, “Uh—um, what—what did I do?”

Upon witnessing his struggle, you quickly amended your previous statement. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m not mad at you, well, I kind of am, but you don’t need to feel bad, it’s not your fault.”

“I’m not really sure what to make of that.”

You huffed a sigh and covered your face with your hands in a poor attempt to try to hide the blush rapidly coloring your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just—you’re so nice!”

Now Spencer was really confused. “You’re mad at me...because you think I’m nice?”

“Yes, Spencer! You’re so nice, and it makes me incredibly frustrated. You see this?” You picked up a book from your desk and waved it frantically. A little intimidated by your crazed look, he nodded timidly. “Do you recognize this book?”

“It’s a special edition of Beloved by Toni Morrison.”

“It’s the special edition of my favorite book that you bought for me because you know how much I love this book.”

Spencer looked like a deer in the headlights. “You always said that your book at home was so messy with your annotations and that a fresh copy would have been nice.”

“You didn’t even buy it for my birthday or a special occasion! You just saw it in the store and said that you thought of me and had to buy it. That’s so unbelievably thoughtful! Not to mention the fact that I can barely look at fruit snacks now without tearing up. And—and the other day! When I got my haircut, I hated it, but I came in the next day, and you were the first person to tell me you liked it. You weren’t even lying to make me feel better; I’m a profiler, and I know that you were telling the truth. And it took no effort or thought because Spencer, you are the most kind-hearted and compassionate and generous person I’ve ever met. You are so—so genuinely good. 

“No, you are the best. You are the best person I know,” you stated with finality, holding his stare with an unshakeable firmness. It was the first time you truly looked at him all night, and his heart felt like it was going to expand past his ribcage and burst open like a balloon. Your resolve melted though and your voice dropped to a near whisper. “And you’re not just nice. You’re nice to me. Which just makes it so hard.”

You deflated, withering into your seat.

“Makes what hard?”

“It makes it so much harder for me to not fall in love with you.”

Stunned silence. 

Until it was shattered by a hiccup, and Spencer finally noticed the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes, and he tried, he tried so hard to puzzle through all of this new information and the fact that you just admitted you’re falling in love with him, and for some reason, you’re crying? He couldn’t even get his stupid genius brain to come with a single word before you started stumbling into an apology. “I know that’s not what you want to hear because we’re supposed to be friends, and I know that you’re just a good person, so you’re nice to everyone. Believe me, I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t keep holding on to this by myself, and I knew if anyone would let me down easy, it’d be you.” You chewed on your lip and avoided his stare at all costs. “So, I’m sorry.” You sniffled. 

The quiet that followed weighed heavy on your chest, and you couldn’t seem to breathe. You had expected rejection; you hadn’t expected complete silence. And this was somehow so much more unbearable. In a voice so faint you weren’t even sure if he could hear, you begged, “Please say something.”

A beat.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

A whisper just barely verging on hopeful, “What?”

“(Y/N), I—I love you so much.” His heart felt like it was in his throat, and his voice broke slightly as he stood. “You’re the first person I think about when I get up in the morning, and you’re the last person before I fall asleep. I dread going home at the end of the day because you’re not there. When you’re not with me, even if you’re in the other room, it feels like I’ve forgotten something, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what I was missing, but it was you. You consume my every thought, which is saying something because I think a lot. Actually, it’s kind of funny,” he chuckled somewhat morosely, “I truly cannot comprehend the fact that you don’t know how much I’ve liked you, how long I’ve loved you because it feels like it’s so obvious and so potent that it seeps out of me, whether I want it to or not.

“And I’m nice to you because no one else is more deserving of kindness. I’d be lucky if you let me be the one to remind you of that, everyday. Because you’re the best person I know.” You looked up at him with shining eyes and the meagerest beginnings of a smile, and he just beamed right back. With a creased brow, he ventured, “You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that, right?

Failing to suppress your growing grin, you nodded your head meekly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

Spencer felt pleased with himself until he remembered that he had forgotten the most important part. “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime? Like a date?”

Standing from your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck and burrowed your face into his chest, and he immediately reciprocated, clutching you as close as he could. “I would love that.” It came out muffled, but he understood well enough as he pressed his face into your neck. And you stood like that for a few moments, just existing together, and for the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. There was no worry of unrequited yearning or pain of terrible pining; there were just two people who finally knew peace. Knew that the person they loved most in the world loved them back. Neither ever wanted to leave.

However, sometimes necessary duties like breathing take precedence, so you pulled back from him enough to finally claim some air. Your hands slid down his front, resting on his chest, his on your waist, and you just stared at him. The most beautiful face you’d ever seen looking right back at you with the same expression of awe that made you realize just how lucky you were. And slowly, hesitantly, you both leaned in ever so slightly with heads wavering and tension buzzing. Gingerly and sweetly. Neither could commit, but no one could pull away from fast-approaching revelation. 

Finally, a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

When your lips met, your chest heaved with your eager, romantic hopes and dreams bubbling up near your lungs, finally coming to fruition. His hands came up to caress your jaw, and you leaned into him. His touch was so gentle, but he also touched you with intention. For once in his life, Spencer Reid felt no hesitation, kissing the girl of his dreams. And you felt held by him. You were bursting at the seams of your existence, swollen with infatuation and tenderness, yet totally and completely encompassed by him. You could shatter into a million tiny, little pieces, and he would be there to collect every shard. How cheesy.

Both of you grinned into the kiss; the sickly sweet itch in your heart was contagious. You finally released him, and wanting to savor the moment, you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck, so his chin could rest on the crown of your head. “I love you a lot, Dr. Reid.”

He hummed in agreement.

It didn’t need saying.

[jimlingss]

AHHHHH YOU’VE DONE IT AGAIN!!

Gosh this might be my favorite one so far, I’m on the edge of my seat 😭😭 What happens next? Are they gonna soften up to each other a bit more now? Is OC gonna act super awkward or have a change of heart? Is Yoongi gonna tease her mercilessly or will they try to pretend it never happened ?!?! Obviously you don’t have to answer all that but omg what a cliffhanger. Honestly just shows how great you are at bundling so much emotion and plot into so few words. Great job as always!!! I really loved it ❤️

hahahahahahaha I’m glad you like it as much as I do. honestly I didn’t know the drabble would turn out so well until I was actually in the process of writing it. By the time I was done, I was like damn this shit sLAMS (hence the extensive word count, I just couldn’t stop lol) but I had no clue prior when I was just jotting down the idea.

and honestly, I kind of do have a bit of a vision for what would happen next post-drabble. depending on the drabble, sometimes I have more in mind and for this one I do :> I don’t know if I can answer all your questions, but I’ll happily indulge you...

(I hope you’re prepared for my incoherent rambling).

Yoongi’s all like “good morning” and she just mutters incoherently back, taking the advil and stumbling to the bathroom. She’s mortified. Embarrassed. Ashamed. While Yoongi is all casual and nonchalant. But there’s an amused spark in his eye and he’s in a constant state of I’m-repressing-my-smile/smirk. Our OC here just wants the world to swallow her whole and she’s highkey hoping she slips on a puddle of water near the shower and slams her head on the tiles and just gets knocked into a coma to avoid all of this. 

Anyway, when she gets out and she’s all better, cleaned up, etc. she’s surprised to see Yoongi still sitting on the couch just scrolling through his phone. They remain silent. And for the first time in a looong time, it’s just quiet between the two of them. No jabs. No fighting. No comments. Then he’s all like “wanna grab breakfast? I’m heading down” and she’s like “yeah sure ok whatever.”

At the breakfast buffet is when the real shit hits the fan. They grab their plates and sit across from each other and Yoongi’s not a confrontational guy but when it comes to his wife, every rule about him ceases to exist. so he goes in for the kill. “so you miss the sex, huh?” and she sputters, spits, chokes on her overcooked eggs. “what?” but he repeats himself (“you want me to spit on you.”) while chewing food in his cheek, not even blinking, not even batting a lash. She tries to pretend that she has no idea what he’s talking about. Playing dumb isn’t hard. Pretending she doesn’t remember anything after drinking so much is even easier. But he knows. And Yoongi’s not gonna let this go.

So she decides to switch tactics and goes for the “you’re really going to take a drunk person’s words seriously? I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was saying.” but he bites back with the whole “drunk words are sober thoughts” and ofc she has nothing to say to that or any method of deflection so she just calls him a stupid idiot. and he’s all like “apparently a stupid idiot that you still love.” and that’s K.O. for her. 

She has no words so she stands up and stomps off and Yoongi rolls his eyes but chases after her and is asking her where she’s going and she’s like “I don’t know, away from you!” and she continues to insist she didn’t mean anything by what she said last night and that it was just a projection because she’s lonely here and that’s she’s been lonely. and that just upsets and angers Yoongi. 

Long story short, the heated moment and argument (that’s somehow unlike their other arguments - less insults and more softened words/touches), they end up back at their hotel room and have hate sex. lol. where Yoongi’s all like “why can’t you fucking be honest for once in your life?”, “why does it take you being completely wasted for you to tell me what you actually want?!” and it keeps escalating as she insists everything was lies and he spits in her mouth, idk, they just go hard (literally asdfghjkl) until they’re both coming and she finally scream-cries that she does love him. and as he’s on top of her, sweating, heaving, calming down, he’s about to smirk and be like “took you long enough” but before he can get the words out, he freezes. because our OC is quietly sobbing and he looks down at her like ???? and she asks him why he can’t be honest at all.

Then the hate sex turns into soft, crying, embracing make-up sex (LMAO they just have a lot of sexual tension in their system). with the kind of “you think I didn’t care? wrong.” dialogue. and it’s Yoongi’s turn to be honest with his own feelings.

[natromanxoff]

22 - Cars & Queenie Days

Hi there Queenie people.

What a strange little weekend this one turned out to be. Let me start by saying that most of my stories seem to have something to do with alcohol, but we were all a hell of a lot younger then, and I for one cannot do that anymore, well not all the time. Although a few days ago an old friend made a guest appearance, the Kurgen was let loose on the streets of Bondi which seemed to start a string of Queen type events. It all started about midday on Saturday when a friend of mine phoned and suggested lunch, what a fantastic idea as it was a lovely hot sunny day, so we met in a nice place with a garden and ordered the first bottle of wine, and it was the Linda Lovelace of vino, it went down very quickly and easily. During the course of the afternoon I phoned my mate Steve and said he should join us, which he did at about 8pm, and we finally moved indoors to have dinner, after sitting in the sun and guzzling wine for the last six hours, and needless to say I'm pissed so we ordered some more food and what turned out to be the last bottle of plonk for the evening.

Half way through dinner Rebecca decided she was to out of it to continue, and wisely went home, leaving the Kurgen and his mate, who has decided he's gonna catch up with me, what a good friend eh, but him getting drunk means me becoming a complete gibbering idiot. After dining we moved next door to the bar where the whisky was flowing very rapidly and the idiot telling one barmaid she looked like a cheap hooker, while swearing his undying love to another. Oh, get me another drink Steve, I think I need one. It finally gets to 1am and time to head home, it's been a long day, and while trying to negotiate the 10min walk I was complaining that my right leg wouldn't work, usual drunken crap.

What has this got to do with Queen I hear you ask, well, apart from the fact that a million years ago I worked for them for a while, not very much. Steve and myself eventually got back to my place and I got phoneitis and I had the need to speak with everyone from my dodgey past, so, phone book out and lets go. Pride of place went to Mr Deacon who was lucky to be speaking on the phone so the Kurgen, after two tries, couldn't get through. Time up for you pal, next. Broughie. He always calls me when he's legless, now it's his turn to try and decipher what I'm on about. When I got through to Trip I can remember saying, "Where the f*** are you?" And do you know what, I have no idea what the answer was, though he did say they cancelled a couple of shows, and everyone was having a great time. This is fun, lets spend some more money. The next call started with, "Mr Taylor, it's Mr Taylor here." Sorry Rog, but you did pick up the phone. I did tell him I'd listened to his new stuff on his website and it's the best stuff he'd done in years, and I have an awful feeling I said that I didn't like 'Happiness,' but he did say that he reads my memoirs, so if you get to see this Mr T. I'll try and be a bit more sober next time I call.

Jacky followed, phone was busy (No it wasn't, we were out, you left a message!!) , gotta move on, I'm on a roll now. A new game, lets try and track down my ex in LA, no luck, thank god, and with that my new accountant Steve took the phone away from me, thanks dear boy. He clears off around 3 and I hit the sack and descend into a coma. Ring ring.....ring ring. Its 9am, who the f*** is phoning in the middle of the night, so, with head pounding I track the phone down and had to raise a bit of a giggle, it's Broughie and now he's pissed and he told me that in nearly twenty years of knowing me, that is the worst he's ever heard me try and talk, to which I reply that this is the worst I've ever felt.

Spandau's Tony Hadley was the next person I speak to, what a diamond geezer, always nice to chat with him. Sunday was a non-existent day with a phone that had no sympathy for me and kept ringing, amazingly it's still in one piece. A wet Monday and I'm still feeling a bit iffy, but come afternoon I receive a package in the post, I like little surprises, so when I walk in and turn the radio on Bo Rap is playing, and when I open my pressie it's from the ever gorgeous Jacky who has very kindly sent me RT's Electric Fire. You know what I mean, his new CD not the electric fire out of his bedroom. I'm glad I told him it was great, cause it is, in my humble opinion, possibly the best thing he's done. That was a hell of a lot of words just to say " go and buy Electric fire and put it in the charts, you won't be disappointed".

I was chatting with Greg Fryer, the fireplace restorer, and we're both looking forward to the Australian convention in a few weeks, although I might be drinking lemonade as I made the idiot promise that "I'm never drinking again". Some time ago somebody asked me a question which went something like, "When you were in the studio with just Roger or the Cross, was it a bit of an anti climax after working with Queen as they were such brilliant musicians." I don't know if I'm missing something here, but as Roger was a solo artist, a member of the Cross and also in Queen, surely that must make him brilliant. Well, whatever your name was, no it wasn't boring it was mostly fun. When he was producing other acts I must admit that I did a lot of sitting around doing bugger all, and I every act were ok as people, though once Jimmy Nail had a hit he did get a rather large ego and changed into a real prat.

Virginia Wolf had two old buddies of mine in the band, Joe Burt and Jason Bonham, so when we went to Ibiza to record it was party time from start to finish, though Jason did go overboard a bit, so to protect us more than him we sent him back to England. I was only involved in one Cross album, Shove It, and that was just going to be another RT solo album so he played all the instruments himself.

I think I've mentioned before that we drove the Bentley to Montreux, well this was the time. The plan was to spend three or four days in Montreux recording then go to Gstaad to write some more songs. That was the excuse because we had a huge chalet there and the idea was to do a lot of skiing and a bit of writing, which is exactly what we did. It was in Gstaad that Roger came up with the idea of forming a band, and after a hard day on the slopes we would sit around at night working out a plan on putting a band together. On the subject of Bentleys and Gstaad I feel obliged to tell you just how much bad luck RT has with his cars.

When he bought his first Range Rover he claimed "You can park them on a sixpence." We had to tow him out of a ditch. His Ferrari burst into flames on his way to the south of France, and his Aston Martin also burst into flames. He hardly ever drove the Bentley, it was my baby and I loved it and never had any problems. Dominique decided she was going to join our little ski trip and was coming to Gstaad, now don't get me wrong, I love Dom, a fine lady, still is, it's just that I didn't fancy the hour drive down the mountain and then the hour along the motorway to the airport. On the day of her arrival RT surprised me by saying he was going to pick her up, that'll do me, drop me off at the chair lift and have a nice drive. A very pleasant afternoon was spent on the piste so when I get back to the house I'm ready for some mindless computer games, and while in the middle of shooting some aliens the phone rings and it's Dominique asking where Roger was as he's not at the airport to pick her up.

The only thing I can say is for her to hang on because he left in plenty of time so he should be there, and I'm back to saving the world. Hours later the door flies open with Roger ranting and raving and saying something about F-in-cars. What's his problem? I look out the window and in the driveway is a VW Golf, so the obvious question is, "Where's the Bentley?" When his lordship finally calmed down he explained that when he got to the motorway there was a blizzard, so he had to have the windscreen wipers on full, but the one on the drivers side came off, so he stopped the car and was groping around in the snow looking for it, and he found it and put it back on. So far so good, except a couple of miles further on it came off again, and this time it was nowhere to be seen. Now try and picture the situation. Swiss motorway, lots of snow falling, very expensive black Bentley and a very famous pop star hanging out the window while driving so he can wipe the snow off the screen so he can see. Not a very good look at all.

On arrival at Geneva he took the car to the Rolls Royce dealer to get fixed, and it wasn't long after this that I said my final goodbye to a trusty friend. Roger on the other hand said Good F***ing Riddance. I have an equally pathetic driving story when we were in Rio, this time it was the two of us, a convertible and one hell of a lot of rain. Next time might be right to tell you how we put the Cross together from the first ad. onwards. Before I go I have a question for Jacky. Do you remember all those bacon sandwiches we had at the auditions? That's it for now Bye

Crystal

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Screw It, I Love You

Title: Screw It, I Love You

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel 

Rating: G 

Tags: Just a lot of fluff! 

Summary: This is based of this post I saw the other day, find it HERE. It’s about Cas being newly human and Dean leaving him reminder notes all over the bunker.

Also, thanks as always to @thebridgekid for reading this <3<3<3

AO3

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Cas woke up around noon, still tired as hell and still not completely healed, but definitely better then the previous day's. Being human always took a beating on him, especially right after losing his grace, but he knew eventually he would adjust and be able to hunt with Sam and Dean again. 

     The brother’s had left early that morning to take down a vamp nest in a nearby town. He knew they wouldn't be back till late, and there was the possibility they wouldn't even come home until tomorrow, so Cas had taken the opportunity to sleep in. But now he decided it was time to get up and not waste the entire day. So he forced his still exhausted body to get out of bed and venture out into the bunker. 

     He was just about to open his door when a little yellow piece of paper caught his attention. He took the sticky note off the door and read it aloud, "Cas, you're human now, so don't forget to eat. Dean."

     His stomach took that moment to growl furiously, "I guess I am a little hungry. I don't know how humans maintain their bodies if they are this hungry all the time."

     He tucked the little note into his pajama pants pocket and made his way into the kitchen. As he walked the hall’s of the bunker he noticed more and more how hungry he actually was, but in the same instant hoped that there was something in the kitchen that he was actually able to make. He was certainly no chef, he could barely make eggs without nearly burning the kitchen down, so hopefully Sam had some cereal left in the cupboard or something easy. Otherwise he wasn't too sure what he was going to eat. 

     He made the last turn into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. On the counter there was a small pile of clothes and another yellow note. He walked over and read the note, "Hey, Cas, don't forget that humans get cold. I grabbed you a sweater and some socks, stay warm, Dean."

     Cas couldn't help but smile to himself, Dean was right again. Now that he was out of the warmth of his bed, his arms and toes were getting cold. So he put on the socks and sweater and walked over to the fridge. 

     "Another note," he smiled and took it off the fridge door, "I sort of figured you'd sleep past breakfast, and I know how much you suck at using the stove, so I made you some lunch. It's in the fridge. Just some PB&J sandwiches, I know how much you like them and I know it's simple, but it's definitely better than scorched eggs and bacon. I also made you some pasta and garlic bread for dinner if I'm not back. Just put it in the microwave for two minutes. Dean."

     Cas tucked that note into his pocket with the others and grabbed one of the wrapped up sandwiches from the fridge then sat down. With the first bite he moaned, he loved PB&J sandwiches so much, and he was so glad that Dean had been so kind as to prepare him food for the day. He would not have been happy with any of the burnt food he would have ended up with had he cooked himself. 

     He spent a little bit extra time eating the sandwich, savouring it as much as he could, before he was finally finished and now found himself with nothing to do. He tossed his wrapper in the garbage, stood there for a minute, then sighed and slowly wandered through the bunker. 

     He had been in this situation before, him staying behind while the brothers went on a hunt without him, and every time he hated it. He hated being alone in the bunker with nothing to do, and to top it off both Dean and Sam had taken their laptop’s with him to prevent him from attempting to do anything other than relaxing. As he recalled, Dean's exact words on the matter had been, "No work, no searching for cases, nothing related to hunting, period, while we're gone. You just sit back, relax, and focus on getting your strength back." And so now here he was, bored, with nothing to do and no one to talk to. 

     He considered for a brief moment calling Dean to see how the hunt was going, but quickly decided against it. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally distract Dean mid hunt and have him end up injured or even possibly worse, especially now considering he couldn't heal him if something happened. So instead he kept wandering. 

     He eventually wandered through the map room, ended up in the library, considered for a moment reading a book but decided he wasn't in the mood to focus that hard right now, and was about to head back to his room with the thought of going back to bed when he saw another yellow note on the wall. 

     He walked over to it and grabbed it from the wall and all this one said was, "Cas," with an arrow pointing to the right. He followed it, finding yet another note with the same message, and another, and another, until he found himself in front of Dean's hidden little man cave at the back of the bunker. The note on the door this time said, "Come on in, Cas, and look on the tv."

     "If you say so, Dean," and he walked in. There was another note on the tv right where the last note had said it would be, so he read that one, "I knew you would end up wandering around, bored with nothing to do. So I cued up a new Netflix series for you to watch, there's also beer in the mini fridge, and snacks for you in the cupboard above it. When I get back, maybe we could have a movie night? Haven't had one in a while. Dean."

     "I would love that, Dean, now you just need to hurry home." He added that note to his collection and walked over to the cupboard. Inside there was a bowl with all of Cas's favourite snacks, he then grabbed a couple beers, and walked over to the couch. He placed the snacks and beer on the table, grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. 

     "The Walking Dead," he read the title and the description of the show, "why are all the shows about monsters? We deal with this everyday and now it's all over tv. But if Dean likes it, then it must be good."

     He hit play on the first episode and then started digging through the bags of snacks in the bowl, trying to decide which one to open first, when he found another note. "Enjoy the snacks, Cas, but don't eat them all at once or you won't wanna eat dinner later, and you have to eat dinner. Humans need more than just candy and sweets all day, so make sure you save some room for that pasta. Also, don't forget at some point to shower, humans have to shower. Dean."

     Cas stared at the note for a second before he added it to his pocket. He then grabbed the bag of mini Twix bars and tossed one into his mouth. The man on the tv who had been shot in the beginning of the episode, Officer Rick if he remembered correctly, was just waking up from his coma, so he decided he'd watch another episode or two after this then he would shower as Dean had reminded him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Six episode’s, one shower, a bowl of pasta, and three bags of candy later and Cas was starting to feel tired again. He tried to wait up a little bit in hopes that Sam and Dean might come back tonight, but it was nearing midnight now and he assumed that they had decided to find a motel for the night. He would call them in the morning to make sure. 

     The episode he was watching was almost over, so he decided to wait for it to finish before he turned the tv off, but his newly human body had other plans. He felt himself slowly tipping to the side, falling, his eyes closing, and he ended up landing his head on the throw pillow. But a little crinkle on the side of his face woke him up enough to sit up and grab the sticky note that was now stuck to his face. 

     "Hey, Cas, I knew you would try waiting up for us and falling asleep halfway through your Netflix binge. But since we're not home yet go to bed, Cas, don't sleep on the couch all night, alright. See you when I get home, Dean."

     He chuckled lightly, still almost half asleep, but the thoughtfulness of Dean, leaving all those notes for him all day to make sure he was ok on his own, reminding him to eat and drink and rest, Cas couldn't help but blush. Not to mention he suddenly felt much warmer then he had all day. 

     He tucked that note into his pocket as he stretched on the couch, then forced himself to get up and shuffled to his room. 

     Even though he had been in there this morning and already found the note on the door, he couldn't help but find himself looking for one last note from Dean. Maybe there had been one he didn't see before he went to the kitchen for food, or a hidden note for him to find before he went to bed for the night. But after spending ten minutes searching the room, he was disappointed that he didn't find any more notes. But he pushed the disappointment aside, shucked everything but his boxers, and crawled into bed. 

     Where he was exhausted not too long ago he now found himself tossing and turning. He was wide awake and could not see sleep in his near future whatsoever. And after a few more minutes of restlessly trying to relax enough to sleep, he realized exactly why he was suddenly so unsettled. It was Dean. 

     As an angel, Cas didn't need to sleep, but now that he was human apparently it was necessary. And since he first became human a few days ago, this had been his first time without Dean, his first night going to bed without having spoken to the hunter, or even just as much as passing him by in the bunker. And his smell… it was comforting to Cas, Dean's scent always calmed him, even as an angel. But here in his own room, in his own bed, he had nothing of Dean to bring him that calm. 

     He grunted in frustration as he was still not able to relax, violently tossed the blankets off of him, and stormed towards the door, "As Dean would say, 'screw this!'"

     He threw his bedroom door open and marched down the hallway in nothing but his boxers, then barged his way into Dean's room. Dean's scent instantly hit his nose and he could already feel himself relaxing. And without even so much as a second thought he walked over and got into Dean's bed. 

     He pulled the blankets over him and snuggled into the pillow. Dean, it was all Dean, it all smelled like Dean, it was comfort and home. God, he missed Dean. 

     He laid there for a while, eyes closed just taking deep breaths, though he had no intention of sleeping there. He couldn't imagine Dean would be too happy when he came home from the hunt tomorrow morning and found Cas passed out in his bed. But he figured he could stay there for a little bit longer before he went back to his own bed. So he rolled over onto his stomach and stretched out on the bed, his arm finding its way under the pillows, and his fingers hit something. He grabbed it and pulled it out, finding a full sized piece of paper. He was about to put it back, sure that it was something personal to Dean if he had hidden it there, but in the dim glow of Dean's digital clock on the bedside table, he saw his name at the top. 

     He quickly turned on Dean's lamp and sat up to read the new note, and it would be an understatement to say he was only a little excited about it. "Cas, I wasn't sure if you'd come in here or not, I was hoping you would. And I know you'll probably think you have to go back to your own room, but you don't, you can stay if you want, you don't have to leave. So just lay back, relax, and go to sleep, okay. I'll come wake you up in the morning when I get back from the hunt. Good night, Cas, I…"

     Cas squinted at the bottom of the paper, Dean had written something but scribbled it out completely. Then it looked like Dean tried again, "I… Cas…" Then more scribbles, and more, until he was at the bottom of the page. 

     Cas wanted to know what he had written, what he had wanted to say that he was too scared to. Maybe he could tell if he turned it over…

     "There's more," he whispered to himself then read the rest.

     "Screw it. I love you, Cas. I hope you see this side of the note before you go to sleep, and I can't wait to get home so I can tell you that in person. Sweet dreams, Cas."

     He was stunned, speechless, his brain had even turned off. Dean loved him, and now that was going to be all Cas could think about. His heart was fluttering, he was anxious with anticipation, and all he wanted was for Dean to be home already so he could say it back. How was Cas supposed to sleep now?!

     But eventually he did sleep, with thoughts of Dean's confession on his mind and clutching the note close to his chest. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     "Man, I don't know why we couldn't have just grabbed a room at one of the many motels we passed on the way here," Sam complained as they grabbed their bags from the back of the car, "I'm exhausted."

     Well, that was a lie, Sam did know why. He also knew why Dean was practically running through the garage and down the stairs, "Dude, where’s the fire. Slow down."

     "I'm just tired too, wanna head right to bed."

     "You don't want to stay up for a beer?" He asked, though he knew the answer, he just wanted to see what Dean would say, "Celebrate taking down that nest?"

     "Nah, I'm just gunna go to bed, I'm beat, see ya in the morning."

     "Yeah, see ya," Sam waved him off and watched with a smirk as Dean practically ran through the bunker towards the rooms. He knew Dean wasn't as tired as he was trying to make it out to be, he had seen Dean running around the morning before, placing notes around the bunker and setting things up for Cas all day. He also knew about the little confession note that Dean had left in his bedroom in hopes that Cas would find. 

     He had caught Dean writing it just before they left, and was able to catch a sneak peek over his shoulder without Dean noticing he was there. Sam also knew that Cas had most definitely already found that note, where he knew Dean wasn't sure if he would. But it was no news to Sam that if Cas was in fact in Dean's room, it would not have been the first time he caught Cas sneaking in there to grab a sweater or blanket of Dean's to take to his own room. He was just glad that these two were finally going to get over themselves. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Dean was just standing, frozen, outside his bedroom door. He was nervous, to say the least. There was no guarantee that Cas would be in there, or that he had seen the note he hid. He was just running off of hope that he had been right in thinking that his missing clothes and blankets had been taken by the ex angel, that maybe he had been taking them for a reason, and that his confession would be taken the way he was hoping it would. 

     He looked down the hallway towards Cas's room, but the door was closed. All he could do was hope that his little hunches were right, and that when he opened this door he would find Cas on the other side. 

     Slowly, he reached his hand out and turned the handle. He was holding his breath, his whole body felt numb, and when he peeked his head in his heart went into overdrive. Cas was in fact there, asleep in his bed, the blankets resting low on his hips showing off his toned back. 

     Dean tried to pull himself together a little bit, to calm down so he didn't wake Cas. He was still recovering from losing his grace and needed as much rest as he could get. So he quietly slipped inside and closed the door as softly as he could. 

     He placed his bag at the bottom of the bed, all the while keeping his eyes on Cas, worried that if he woke him he'd spook and leave in a panic. But thankfully he was still sound asleep. So he removed his shirts and pants and almost in slow motion, he crawled into the other side of the bed beside Cas. 

     He didn't touch him or get too close once he was under the covers with him. Dean was thrilled that everything he had thought and hoped for, was currently laying right across from him in his bed. So he decided to just soak it in for a few minutes, to just lay there and adore Cas, just stare at him for as long as he could before he could feel sleep starting to take over. 

     Just before he closed his eyes, he ran the back of his hand over Cas's slightly stubbled cheek, then he laid back against his pillow. Then suddenly Cas shifted beside him and moved until he was practically right on top of Dean. He tucked his head under Dean's chin, tangled their legs together, and snuggled as close as he could get. 

     Dean just smiled, as happy as he had ever been in that moment, and wrapped his arms around Cas. They laid like that for a minute before Cas moved his hand from where it was rested on Dean's chest, and a second later, he brought it back up and stuck the entire pile of sticky notes he had collected all day to Dean's forehead. Dean chuckled, shaking Cas on his chest who also laughed. Then he brought his hand up again and placed the confession note over Dean’s heart where his hand had just been resting. 

     Dean grabbed all the notes and placed them on the bedside table, then opened the drawer to reach in and grab the pad of sticky notes and wrote out another one. He laughed as he peeled the note off the pad and moved his hand between them to stick it over Cas’s heart. Cas tucked his chin down to read the note upside down and smiled from ear to ear, “Property of Dean Winchester.”

     “At least I hope,” he said, laying his hand over Cas's where it still rested over his heart.

     "I love you too, Dean," Cas spoke into Dean's neck, drawing mindless circles over Dean's heart. 

     Dean moved his hand over to Cas's chin and lifted his face up to his. "I'm glad you found my note, I wasn't sure if you'd come in here."

     "I missed you," Cas admitted, "the pillows and blankets smell like you."

     "I missed you too, Cas, a lot. I did everything I could so that I could make it back here tonight so we could be together." He rubbed his thumb over Cas's bottom lip, then asked in an almost whisper, "Can I…"

     Cas nodded, his nose rubbing against Dean's as he did, and Dean leaned in closing the gap. He touched his lips to Cas's and kissed him softly, sucking lightly on his bottom lip. It was slow, and gentle, and perfect, filled with years of love between them and Dean couldn't think of anything better than this. He had never been happier. 

     When they finally pulled apart, Dean pulled Cas against his chest again, tucking him perfectly against his body as he was before, running his fingers up and down his back. Then he started thinking, as he was staring up at the ceiling, with Cas finally in his arms, and as usual his brain started running wild. He suddenly became nervous and began shifting under Cas. 

     Cas felt it, knew Dean well enough by now to know exactly what was going on, so he just rubbed his hand over his bare chest. It might have been easy enough to write it down on paper, but Cas knew Dean would struggle with actually saying it out loud. But eventually, with the soothing motion of Cas's hand on his chest, he managed to get it out. 

     "I… I love you, Cas, I really love you, so much."

     Dean leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Cas's forehead and he smiled, tucked himself tighter under Dean's chin, "I love you too, Dean, and I'm glad you came back tonight."

     "Me too," he kissed him again, then wiggled to settle back into the bed and closed his eyes, "good night, Cas."

     "Good night, Dean."

End

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hope y’all liked that cute little fluff fest XD 

[julyarchives]

Mistletoe Business

“Hey, want to help me get my parents off my back about not having a date?” 

→ Pairing: Hongseok x Reader

→ Genre: Fluff

→ Words:  2K

→ Contains: cheesy cliches; implied smut at the end.

→ A/n: so, we might have gotten a little carried away with this story as you can see by the word count lol. I hope it is worth the wait (sorry for posting it later than usual) and we hope you guys like it!

“Hey, want to help me get my parents off my back about not having a date?” 

“What?” you asked wide eyed in disbelief

“Hear me out” Hongseok straightened his back, looking like he was talking business “You said that you will spend holidays alone in your house, right? And my parents nag me every damn year when I come back home alone for the holidays. We just have to hold hands and hug once in a while”

He ended his argument with an unpretentious shrug.

“I don’t know, Hongseok…” You said, not really convinced. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“There will be free food, and my mom is an amazing cook”

“Fine, you got me there. You better get me in a food coma” you rolled your eyes, laughing at your coworker.

You and Hongseok have been working together for a couple of years now, and you can say he’s your favorite person to work with, but your relationship with him ends there, the only few times you two hung out outside your job was at office gatherings at bars after working hours. Nevertheless, you considered him a nice friend, and the thought of not spending christmas alone was very tempting.

And that’s how you got yourself in the current situation you’re in right now.

“Mom!” Hongseok exclaimed, passing through the front door, carrying both his suitcase and yours’ “I’m home”

You walked right behind him, wishing you could actually hide yourself from doing this, a pinch of regret twisting your guts. Soon his parents show up, receiving him with a big warm hug.

“Mom, Dad,” his step aside, putting you in the spotlight “This is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

They both received you with the same enthusiastic hug.

“It’s so good to meet you, y/n” his mom said “Finally I don’t have to worry if he’s too lonely in the city.”

You really didn’t know how to answer, so you just offered a sympathetic smile, pretty sure that your cheeks were bright pink.

“Come on, darling,” his dad intervened, probably seeing your flustered face “Let the kids get some rest, they had a long trip”

“Right” she answered him, laughing softly before redirecting herself to Hongseok “You two can stay in your room, ok? Your brother and his wife will stay in his’.”

Then it hit you. They think you two are a couple, of course you will share one single room with him. Probably share a bed too. Oh damn.

He hugged his dad and kissed his mom's cheeks, wishing them good night.

“Thank you for having me.” You enunciated before following Hongseok further into the house.

You followed him quietly as he walked without looking back. He only broke the silence once you two were inside his room, behind closed doors.

“You look cute when you blush” His words were pure mockery, but the smirk on his face made you question if that was a flirt.

“Shut up” You answered back, pushing his shoulder lightly "or I will show everyone in the office pictures of all these boy band posters in the wall"

'I have nothing to hide, you can ask me anything about them and I will proudly answer you, like the fanboy I am" he laughed.

And then the room fell silent.

You say down on the bed as he carefully left the luggage next to his nightstand. The room was really a place you could see Hongseok growing up in. The light blue walls and orange accents here and there really matched his personality. The big mirror next to the wardrobe was something that definitely screamed Hongseok.

"So, I know we didn't think this before, I totally forgot that sleeping together is a thing" he broke the silence, laughing nervously "I can sleep on the floor and you can have my bed."

"That's not fair, you are the one that drove for hours, you deserve the bed" you replied.

"I won't let you sleep on the floor." he shrugged casually.

"We can try and share the bed though." You said, and he just stared at you, pondering whether it was a good idea or not. "Will you be a total creep and jump on me while I'm asleep?"

"Of course not!" He scoffed.

'Then sharing the bed it is."

Next morning you woke up feeling so warm it was almost suffocating. The smell of clean sheets was nice, but the musky scent was what made you hum in satisfaction. And that's when you remembered you were sharing a bed with Hongseok. 

You opened your eyes and realized you were spooning him, his whole back pressed against your chest and your arm wrapping around his torso.

You slowly pulled back and thanked whatever force of nature that allowed you to wake before him and save yourself from this embarrassment.

Or so you thought.

"Little did I know that you were going to be the creep jumping on me in the middle of the night" his hoarse morning voice made you jump in surprise, which got him laughing a little too loudly.

"It's not my fault I'm a sleep cuddler!" You said in your defense, hiding your face under your covers. 

"It's ok, y/n, I know I'm irresistibly cuddly, you can admit" he grinned sheepishly 

"In your dreams" you rolled your eyes.

At breakfast, you two were the last ones to join the family on the table, and he introduced you to his brother and sister in law just like the night before to your parents, but this time he snaked one arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. His parents giggle proved that the blush on your cheeks was very evident.

Later you joined him and his mom in the kitchen to help prepare the Christmas Eve feast.

“You look cute in an apron.” You teased him, snapping a picture with your phone and giggling.

“You won’t be laughing once you taste my wonderful mashed potatoes.” He said proudly.

“I didn’t know you were a cook” you said.

“You never cooked for her?” his mom intervened. “I taught you better than that!” She slapped his arm lightly.

You sneaked your phone again, this time taking the cutest picture of Hongseok and his mom, standing shoulder to shoulder, laughing softly as they cooked together.

The whole family dinner was so pleasant and fun, you got the chance to know so much more about him, how he was growing up and the way his family was so proud of him. You felt very welcome too, all of them being so nice to you, which made you feel a little guilty for lying to them like that. 

Skinship became natural for you two as the day went by, and that’s why you were sitting side-by-side on the couch, holding his hand, as the family gathered around the fireplace and told more stories - you particularly loved the ones his brother told about him being a little brat as a kid. 

“I guess you didn’t change that much” you teased, and he flashed you his tongue “just proved my argument.” you finished and everyone laughed.

“Mom...” His brother said a little louder, catching everyone’s attention “did you purposefully hang those mistletoes above the couch?” 

That moment you looked up and noticed the plant above you and Hongseok.

“I guess my trap worked.” she giggled. You could see that he got so much from his mother. “You guys know the rules.”

“Don’t think you’re safe” Hongseok tried to divert attention, pointing above his brother and his wife “you have one too”

They proceed to share a cute peck, and everyone awed in fondness.

“You two are not safe either” his brother replied back.

Hongseok looked at you, who tried to not look panicked. 

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” he whispered and squeezed your hand in reassurance. 

“It’s okay” you whispered back

You raised your hand and gently cupped his cheek, directing him to get closer to you.Your lips touched softly and butterflies were partying around your stomach. It ended as quickly as it started, and after pulling back you two just stared at each other for a while, shy smiles mirrored in both of your faces. If you were blushing before, right now you must be as red as a strawberry.

“So cute.” his brother teased.

“Shut up.” Hongseok snapped back, and again everyone laughed.

You two shared a secret look, and you caught yourself biting your bottom lip, savoring the tingling sensation that lingered from his kiss.

The night followed easy going and light, hugs and gifts exchanged at midnight, finishing with a round of hot cocoa and gingerbread cookies for everybody. After you all wished goodnight to each other, everyone went away to their respective bedrooms, including you two.

You entered first, trying to figure out how to not act embarrassed around him now that you two were alone and there was clearly a little elephant in the room.

“Hey, y/n” You had no time alone with your thoughts before he called you. “I have something I wanna try”

“Okay…” you turned to face him, not sure on what to do. You observed him approaching, hiding something behind his back.

“Do you trust me?” he asked and you nodded in response “close your eyes”

You obliged, but a couple of seconds later he told you that you could open them again. He was standing closer to you, his hand raised above the both of you, and at the tip of his fingers, a mistletoe strand. Your immediate reaction was a soft laugh.

You stared at him, raising eyebrows and smiling, silently asking him if that was serious. 

“You kind of left me wanting for more.” He smirked, biting his bottom lip.

“Oh well, we’re under a mistletoe, we have no choice.” you shrugged, half smiling.

He lowered his arm only to have both of them snaking around your waist, pulling your bodies closer. You immediately wrapped yours around his neck, neither one of you wasting any more time apart.

He kissed you passionately, his strong grip almost lifting you off the ground, his lips hungry for yours’. He kissed you like he meant to do that for longer than the couple of hours since the last one. And if you were being honest you might have wanted it before too.

As you two separated, your foreheads remained pressed together and his grip on you didn’t falter.

“So…” you said “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” he squeezed your waist “I guess it means I liked a little too much pretending you’re my girlfriend.”

“I’m not having a hard time myself either.” you replied, leaning closer and stealing a peck.

“I won’t mind keeping up with this a little longer.” he said.

“Me neither, as long as the kisses are this good.” 

“If you think the kisses are good wait until you see the rest” he flashed you another smirk 

“Don’t ruin it!” you laughed, slapping his chest 

“I’m serious about the other part though” he continued, this time it was his turn to steal another peck “I like the idea of you as my girlfriend. What do you think?”

“Well, why don’t we enjoy pretending a little longer and enjoy ourselves right now, and our future selves can have this conversation once we’re back to the city? So our present selves can continue making out?” you raised one eyebrow suggestively.

“Sounds like a good idea to me” He agreed.

You two started kissing again, this time he grabbed your thighs, and easily picked you up on his lap, only to lay you down on his bed, quickly climbing on top of you.

“Merry Christmas to us” he opened a mischievous grin.

You kissed him passionately one more time, like you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Merry Christmas, Hongseok.”

[smolbeandrabbles]

364 Days To Go - Director Keller x Reader (Captain Marvel)

Holiday Fic 4! 🎄🎄

GIF Credit: X 

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​

Author’s Note: This Holiday season belongs to the less popular boys and honestly I’m all here for it! Keller was the last one I came up with and it was just because I put all my Christmas music on shuffle and I was like “whoooo... could I use this for?” And then thought hard on it and came up with a kinda cute Keller scenario. Also he deserves more love!!

Really, by the title alone, this should be the post Christmas fic, but, oh well! 

Disclaimer: Captain Marvel Characters Not mine / gif not mine / lyrics not mine / usual stuff, different fic!

Premise: December 25th may almost be over, but you can both still have a little fun...

Words: 1431

Warnings: The setting is Christmas day, although Christmas is not mentioned by name / drinking / if you squint there is the tiniest of sexual references

____

Wrapping paper everywhere Stacked up dishes, but who cares They can wait until tomorrow now It's you and me, and this old couch

The Christmas tree in our living room Fills the room with pine perfume And colored lights dancing on the walls While Nat King Cole sings "Deck The Halls"

Thanks for my robe, no that's ok It looks better on you anyway What is it about this time of year That makes our troubles disappear 'Cause don't you get the sense tonight That for now the world is right And as another Christmas ends My mind drifts and once again I'm thinking like a six year old Only 364 days to go

We can't avoid it No way around it Before too long we'll be Either back to work back to school Or just back to reality

Don't you get the sense tonight That for now the world is right And as another Christmas ends My mind drifts and once again I'm thinking like a six year old Only 364 days to go Be here before you know it

---

The house was filled with the sound of holiday music. Although, without putting a damper on things, the holiday was almost over. Well, the main part of it anyway. But neither of you were thinking about that. In fact the music was the only sound, as currently you were both nestled on the couch together, your head on Keller’s chest. There was plenty of reason to move, you supposed. Remnants of brightly coloured paper still littered the floor, a stack of dishes by the sink that - if you were really cognizant - you should probably get started on. But, there was always tomorrow… This was the very last day of the year you would ever have had your partner working on. Even if it wasn’t work work.

Besides, you were both currently stuck in a food coma, and snuggled on the couch was the only place to be; drifting in and out of sleep with the heat on high and his arms around you. You were surprised that he hadn’t even taken one glance at his pager today. You would understand for any other Agent (heck, you’d hurled yours across the room the second you’d got in last night, where it’d clattered against the wall. And even upon Keller’s insistence, you hadn’t gone to retrieve it yet - and, didn’t see him doing it for you), but not the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D… Keller constantly told you that, for him, there was always something going on. Which meant today should be no exception. He was doing this for you, you knew. But you were glad he was taking respite for once; he deserved it. You knew how important his position was, but Keller always worked so damn hard. You thought it was about time he got some recognition for that - even if it was in the form of a quiet moment on the couch with you. Running your fingers gently through his steel grey hair, Keller didn’t really stir; his grip on you loosened slightly, and that sleepy content hum made you do nothing but smile. You pressed a kiss gently to his forehead and cheek before you stole away from his arms. It was about time to get yourself back in your pyjamas you thought! Hurrying quietly from the room, you halted and turned back to his gifts. A little smirk formed on your face; on second thought… *** By the time you returned to him Keller was awake but still looked a little drowsy; head in his hand, propped up by his elbow on his knee, as he held open a book with his other hand. As you shuffled into the room he looked up and then immediately laughed. “Oh, I see you’re wasting no time stealing my clothes, huh?” To be honest the robe was almost a joke gift, you’d had it embroidered with ‘Director J. R. Keller’ across the left breast and then kidded with him that no one was going to be able to take the J off this.  You brought your shoulders up as high as they could go and tucked yourself into it, “It’s very comfy, I gotta say.” Then made a motion to take it off, “Would you like it back?” “No… No…” He waved his free hand, “It looks good on you…” Keller continued to stare at you for a moment before smiling, “Go on, give us a twirl.” “Ah!” You gave him your very best and then posed, “What do you think?” “Yeah.” He almost said it flatly, “Gonna look so much better on you.” Before he placed the book down and opened his arms, “C’mon…”

You eagerly crossed the room, and back into Keller’s welcoming embrace. “I love you so much.” “I got the idea… yeah!” That only made you giggle again as he captured your lips with his own, rubbing his hands over your arms as if to warm you up. “PJs too? Man, I missed the memo…” Keller was still in a nice shirt and pants. A little more relaxed than his usual suit (and sleeves rolled up, as you would have requested; his forearms were something to behold), but no less easy on the eye. “Time to get comfortable.” “Just seems like a typical non-work day for you, then.” You gasped, pretending to get offended and smacked his arm, “Don’t say the ‘W’ word!” “Oh, geez, I should have guessed that was banned too.” “Are you trying to be humorous?” He quirked an eyebrow, amused, and you tried to hold your serious face for all of 3 seconds before you snorted, “Okay. You win this round, Mr. Keller!” He allowed you to steal a series of short kisses, before he settled you back on the couch alone; turning the music up a little, he poured you both a glass of mulled wine. Handing your glass over to you, Keller didn’t sit back down. You wondered if he was attempting to stretch his body out after the confines of the couch. “Hey, don’t get any of this over my robe now.” “Oh my god…” You shook your head at him, “Just tell me if you want me to take it off-!” He smirked through his sip, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” You rolled your eyes, and for a minute it went quiet before you studied him a little closer. He wasn’t even really looking at you, more surveying the decor of the house and paying attention to the songs, but Keller still knew what you were doing; “What?” “Just making sure that pager of yours isn’t on you!” He scoffed, “So you can yell at me today of all days of the year?” He took another sip before he placed his glass down and held his hand out for you. You took a bigger gulp of wine than you thought was necessarily, and you watched his face try to remain stoic and not even a little disappointed in you for doing so, before you took the hand he offered and let him pull you off the couch. Keller spun you into his arms and held you close, letting you lay your hand flat against his before you laced your fingers together, and he swayed you gently to the music. “Oh? You want to dance with me when I’m not even dressed appropriately?” “I’ll forgive it.” He chuckled, but then took a more serious breath, “You know that I don’t care, right?” “I’m just teasing you-!” Although you couldn’t help but blush gently; you knew he would take you any way you wished to present to him. That was just the kind of man that he was. You weren’t sure that anyone in the world deserved him really, but you weren’t about to argue with the look of love on his face today. Instead you’d simply bask in it, honoured that Keller chose to give it to you. You continued to sway slowly to the music as song changed into song, changed into song… and both of you once again surveyed the room, and tried not to think of everything you’d have to do tomorrow. The darkness had drawn in, but there was still something magical about it today, instead of gloomy and depressing. You couldn’t help but grin as you looked back into his soft blue eyes, it might have almost been over, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still have childish excitement about next year. “Only 364 days to go!” Keller gave an encouraged nod of agreement, “And imagine what can happen in that time-!” Only he added a mysterious little wink, causing you to narrow your eyes; “OKAY what is going on at work!?” His look was of pure innocence, “Nothing! Well- No, maybe something, but I can promise I don’t know!” You tilted your head, “To be honest, I’m surprised. Your fingers must be itching to click that little button.” Keller shrugged, “100% honesty? I haven’t really thought about it.” And he really did mean it, although he laughed, “But I’m sure I’ll wake to a million messages tomorrow-!” “Any way I could persuade you to collect another million more?” “Not check tomorrow?” Keller paused your swaying for a second, sucking his breath in between his teeth and pretending to think hard on it, “Just try it…” “Mmm. Think I will.” You winked, before removing your hands from his and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull Keller into a deep kiss. 

364 days to go, maybe… But if it was 364 days filled with kisses like this, you wouldn’t mind waiting one bit.

---

Thank you for reading! And as my last fic before Christmas, Happy Holidays!!! 🎁🎅🎄

[defultuser]

Britverse fic

Inspired by this post. Thanks to @theladyfae and the whole britgate team for your help 

As the bell rings Julie looks round her music class. Luke is diligently scribbling in his notebook, she thinks music is the only class where he’s not racing to leave as soon as it's possible for him to do so. While the rest of the class leave Julie silently motions to Mrs Harrison, a request for her and her friends to stay in her class during lunch. After receiving confirmation and watching Harrison leave Julie pulls out her phone to see a text from Flynn in the group chat, an offer to get food from the cafeteria for anyone that wants; Julie replies with a thumbs up and sandwich emoji before letting them know to come music once they have food. 

Turning back round she sees the class is empty but herself, Luke and Carrie; who pulls out her salad before throwing her pen at Luke’s head effectively waking him from his musical coma. With Luke’s attention back on them Julie asks, “Did you want to practice for the performance Saturday while we wait for the others?”

It's a pretty certain bet Luke will do just about anything with the promise of music so it comes as no surprise when in place of an answer he stands and grabs his guitar. The pair begin to sing through the song while Carrie eats and watches, preparing feedback. 

“That song is fit my g’s” 

No matter how many years Julie has lived in the UK she will never understand a word that comes out of Reggie Peter’s mouth. Just last week he called her pencil case, phone, and both her parents peng, apparently it's a compliment. Putting down his guitar Luke walks over to his friends and begins a handshake far too complex for people that ‘don’t care for all that stupid friendship stuff’. Willie joins her and they take their seats on the tables with their feet on the chairs.

“How was media? Miss like your homework?” She turns and asks the guys. 

“Her lessons are so dead man, Miss Ellis is so dry” Reggie answers she gives Bobby a confused look, 

“Bad, he’s saying that it was boring, as always.” He translates as he pulls Reggie into his lap where he’s sitting in Harrison's chair. Cause yeah that's a thing now. Despite spending most of year 9 fighting and most of year 10 deep into school conspiracies, they both accidentally came out just before the start of year 11 and they've been sort of romantic ever since; by romantic she means they go Mcdonalds as a pair and have been caught on one too many occasions making out in various classrooms. But they seem happy enough so none of the group questions it.

Julie's internal monologue is cut short by the arrival of Flynn and therefore food. 

“Food!’ Julie screams as if announcing it to the group, as she heads over to Flynn to collect her lunch, an unappealing pasta and bottle of water. Nick sets about handing out food for the rest of the group that asked for some. 

“Hotdog” Willie calls as Alex makes his way over to him and takes Julie's spot, with a kiss on the cheek Willie asks, “How was class?”

“Not too bad, we had a test but it was on what I revised last night.”

“Lucky bitch!” Flynn calls from where they're sitting, feet half in Carrie’s lap “some of us had netball so didn't study.”

“Probably should have studied, would have been better than your help at the game.” Carrie argues which sets off a chain reaction. 

“What are you trying to suggest? At least I didn't spend 45 minutes making sure my tracksuit looked good. A tracksuit you only wore on the bus”

“Yeah 45 minutes you could have revised cause you sure as hell were not making yourself look good.”

“Yeah i’m naturally this fit,” 

It's at this point Julie steps in “Girls enough!”

“No at least let them trade blows next time,'' Bobby complains, earning him a middle figure from both netball girls. 

At this moment Kayla, late from her film studies lesson enters. In place of a hello she greets the group with “Fuck me french film is pretentious,” she gives Carrie a hug and collects her lunch from Flynn. 

“That bad?” Willie questions and Kayla heads over to Harrison's desk to eat, in place of an answer she groans earning a laugh from the group. 

The group drifts off into the kind of comfortable silence you can only get around your friends. Willie and Alex chat amongst themselves, while Luke and Nick discuss his latest song, occasionally strumming a chord or two, Carrie is deeply engrossed in her instagram feed. With the rest working on homework over at Harrison’s desk Julie pulls her folder out of her bag and joins the study sesh. Every now and again someone will address the room and sometimes a lasting conversation will form, such as “Did you see Ms Mathew’s computer? Her background, it's her and Harrison on a beach.” It would seem Bobby isn't quite out of his conspiracy theory phase just yet, this was one of their favorites, are Mrs Harrison and Ms Mathew dating? As Julie has already tried to explain, they've been married for years now but that seems like too easy of an answer for walking conspiracy podcast Bobby Wilson. It's not long until silence falls over the room again. 

Luke suddenly jumps up guitar in hand. As if taunting him the rest pay him no attention. “Guys!” he screams.

“What ?” Julie rolls her eyes.

“I got it, the melody, listen” he begins to play, Julie recognises some of the chords and lyrics from earlier in lunch, she’ll admit it's a good song, incomplete but good. Before he’s able to finish Mr Davids walks into the room, looking as sour faced as ever. 

“Um folks, what are we doing here?” He calls in that voice all teachers can do “It's lunchtime … What are we doing in this classroom? You know you’re not allowed in here without a teacher.” 

Reggie clearly with more confidence than the rest goes to answer before getting cut off by Davids. 

“No Mr Peters, don't answer me back.”

Not shaken Luke cuts in “Mrs Harrison let us stay here,”  

“Mrs Harrison said you could be in here, well is this Mrs Harrison’s room? er i didn’t think so,” Davids is so quick to tell them off he doesn't listen to Carrie’s protest that it is Harrison’s room “All of you out!” Figuring it's easier to leave than argue they start collecting their things, “Go outside, eat, be sociable.”

“We were just practising” Luke grumbles catching Davids attention 

“You’re practising? Really, Mr Patterson for what? Last I checked only yourself Miss Wilson and Miss Molina were music students” 

“A gig” Luke mumbles Davids is clearly not a fan of this answer,

“For a gig, umm is that a school event... it isn’t?” again Davids doesn't even wait for a reply “Right. Well then I suggest you practice outside of school. You’re here to learn not trash a classroom… out!” 

In perhaps what might be the only time they've ever been grateful for the far too short lunch break at this school, they don't find themselves classroom-less for long; almost as soon as Davids shuts the door on the music room, locking them out, the bell rings and they're sent off the afternoon form. Both couples share a kiss before separating for class. Luke and Alex leave first in what can only be described as a sprint, after all their form is unfairly far away from everyone else’s. And Carrie drags a begrudging Reggie away to their shared form. The rest offer a series of “see you in class” and “meet me at the shop after school”s before Julie leaves with Willie and Kayla following as they cut through the drama studio and into the art department. 

Once the register is called Julie is free to work on her homework, although songwriting isn't strictly homework. She finds herself drawn to the lyrics Luke had been working on earlier; perhaps she could finish it for him and they could play it at the Hollywood Ghost Pub’s open mic night. Already imagining how it'll go: the surprise and excitement on Luke's face as she presents it to him, the perfect song to play with the boys, the amazing performance as they give it their all, she smiles losing herself in the daydream.

[cuculine-nelipot]

ON LUTE STRINGS 

{a/n I posted this on ao3 a while ago but I finally got around to sorting out the last of spelling errors and what-nots today I think. So here we are.}

The first time in happens, he doesn’t notice.

They’ve made camp for the night, in a clearing in the woods. He’s had some bread, and even a little meat when the witcher caught him staring longingly at his roast hare.

A fire burns warm, and light enough to for Jaskier to check the angry red welt on his abdomen, already purple in places. He inhales sharply when he prods at it with a tentative finger, and vaguely wonders how long it’ll last.

Half dressed, lazing on his bedroll with his back braced against bark, he fiddles with his new lute. Getting a proper feel for the instrument, he plucks a charming, tripping little tune he can play without too much thought — an Elven composition he stumbled upon as a lad in temple school that seems appropriate to the occasion. He marvels at how buttery the strings feel under his fingertips, how clear the notes ring through the trees. A shiver of pure satisfaction shoots through him, from his hands right down to his gut.

“Shut up boy.” The growl comes from the man — mutant — whatever, on the other side of the fire. Jaskier heaves a pointed sigh.

“Goodnight Geralt.”

He gets naught but a half-hum-half-grunt in response as he puts his lute aside and settles into his bedroll.

In the morning he doesn’t notice that his torso is completely unmarred.

-

The second instance occurs not much later, but is similarly shrouded by unremarkable circumstance.

It had been a damp few days on the road, and there is not enough herbal tea on the continent to stave off the cold building uncomfortably behind his face.

He watches Geralt fiddle with his various vials and blades and what-nots from his bed on the other side of the room. He shouldn’t — he knows he shouldn’t — but he feels a sort of ache in his chest, knowing that come morning he will likely be too sick to travel. Knowing that he will be left behind. The witcher had said as much, after all.

For now at least, there is a warm room, and food enough, and his music, and he is not alone yet. He picks up his lute and plays that same, well-worn tune, the one that feels like the home he always wanted, the one that sounds like the lullabies he’s never heard. He lets the music wash through him, a stream of sound trickling in his veins, cresting in his skull. He plays until he feels tired, and calm enough to sleep.

Sure enough, he wakes up to a high sun, and the room is much, much emptier than it was the night before.

But he feels better. His nose is clear, the pressure behind his eyes in gone. It’s curious, he thinks, but he never was one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He sets out soon after, not wanting to lose daylight. If he just so happens to run into a certain witcher, well, there’s only one road out of town isn’t there? Somethings just can't be helped.

He does run into him, that night, making camp not too far off the road.

“You’re sick,” comes the other man’s effusive, albeit confused, greeting.

“I was sick. Feeling much better now, thanks for asking.”

“Hm.”

“And thanks for walking so slow, honestly I can’t believe I caught up with you. Aren’t witchers supposed to have phenomenal stamina or something? Maybe you’re getting old — how old are you anyway?”

“Too old for this. Here.” Without looking, Geralt holds out a steaming mug of something.

“What’s this?” Jaskier asked, only slightly suspicious.

“Tea. You still sound hoarse.”

Jaskier can’t say for sure, but he thinks he sees red creeping up Geralt’s neck when he turns his back to Jaskier.  

-

So many such incidences scattered through so many years, and with the ignorance of youth Jaskier notices none of them. Just like he fails to notice how at 26 his face looks identical to what it was at 18, or that he still has the same boundless energy. He doesn’t take into consideration paper cuts that are there one minute and gone the next. He doesn’t find the fact that he can’t remember the last time he was properly sick or bruised peculiar at all, despite the frequent bar fights and rambles in the rain.

Until, that is, another night spent under the stars in the woods somewhere.

“Pass me that?” Geralt makes no indication of what he’s after, but Jaskier knows him well enough by now to know he’s means his dagger. He moves to give it to him but it slips out of his hand almost as soon as he picks it up; its point slices though his breeches and a few layers of skin on the way down.

“Ow. Ow. Fucking shit ow.” He peppers the air with curses as he sinks to the ground. The edges of the slit silk begin to turn red with his blood, and he quickly but carefully divests himself of the garment before any more damage can be done. With a sigh that’s more annoyed than anything, Geralt turns around to give him a cursory glance.

“Stay there,” he huffs.

“Solid advice once again there, Geralt. And here I was thinking I’d get a head start on tomorrow’s travels.” It might have sounded scathing if his voice and his breathing weren’t so obviously strained with pain.

“Trust you to split your leg open trying to pass someone a knife.” Geralt finally approaches with his first-aid kit. Calloused fingers tenderly come to rest on Jaskier’s thigh, just barely pulling at his skin, shifting his leg, trying to ascertain the extant of the damage. “Needs stitches,” he says as he applies a salve. “This will keep it from getting infected, and it’ll numb the pain a bit, but not a lot.”

The burning pain in his leg does in fact morph into something cold, and almost soothing, but he had no delusions about how much that will do under the attention of a needle and thread.

“Come on.” Geralt pulls one of Jaskier’s arms up, draping it around his shoulder and pulling him to a standing position. Though the bard has a slighter build, he's not much shorter, so Geralt half drags the bard to sit fireside, setting him down with a gentleness not lost on the injured man.

As Geralt prepares to sew him up, Jaskier grabs his lute from where it lays nearby, and starts playing that old melody to calm himself down. After all these years, the sound has come to resemble home to Geralt almost as much as it does to Jaskier, and he feels tension he didn’t know he carried slough away from his shoulders. There’s an ever so slight shivering where his medallion touches his chest, so slight that Geralt’s conscious mind fails to register it, just like every other time.

But when he returns to Jaskier side the hum of his silver seems suddenly to fill the arena of his chest and skull.

“Jaskier.”

“Hm?”

“Your leg.”

“I’m actually trying rather hard to not think about my leg at present, so if you could just finish up there as quickly as possible I would be very appreciative.”

“Jaskier, look.”

Geralt speaks with such urgency Jaskier does look, his finger’s stilling over his lute when he sees that the gash has been greatly diminished.

“Keep playing.”

Jaskier does, and they both watch as the laceration smooths over, first pink, and then gone, as if nothing had ever happened.

“Well shit.”

“Hm.”

They’re silent for awhile, all eyes fixed on Jaskier’s leg.

“Did you know you could do that?”

“I… no,” Jaskier decides eventually. For once his babbling brook of words is dry, replaced instead by pebble-small memories being flung at him at high speed. “I never bruised.”

“Hm?”

“When you punched me in the stomach. When we met. I never bruised. I don’t remember — the last time I got hurt, or really sick, was… years ago. Years and years.”

“I guess… it explains… things.”

They look at each other then, equal parts worried and concerned and excited, so many questions swirling in the air between them.

-

Jaskier doesn’t exactly want anyone knowing that he has a magic lute, so their research into the matter relies almost exclusively on experimentation.

They learn that it works best when Jaskier plays something Elven, and much slower when he plays anything else.

They learn that while he can’t heal Geralt, he can numb the pain if he’s injured. and even — as he discovered completely by accident — induce a short coma.

They learn that Jaskier can’t use this magic to hurt anyone, even certain other ‘bards’ who definitely have it coming.

They learn, after many, many strenuous hours of Jaskier’s instructing Geralt, that it only works when Jaskier plays.

“It’s protecting you,” Geralt proffers. “The lute was Filavendrel’s gift to you, after all.”

“Protecting me from what though?”

Geralt shrugs at that. “Everything. Life.”

-

Jaskier doesn’t know why things change between them exactly — he just knows that Geralt doesn’t seem to hold him at such a distance anymore; he lets Jaskier stay closer on hunts, and he’s not so quick to leave him behind. Gone are the days where he seems determined to find any excuse to lose the bard.

And more than that — on cold nights spent under the open sky, Geralt doesn’t just meditate stoically next to Jaskier to keep the younger man warm -- he actually sleeps, holding Jaskier near. And on those occasions when an an inn can only offer one bed, Geralt doesn’t seem to mind so much anymore when Jaskier sleepily snuggles closer, or drapes himself over the Witcher’s chest. There are even times when Jaskier thinks he can feel the thrill of a nose pressed into his hair, or a broad hand stroking his stomach, or fingers lazily scratching his back.

Jaskier doesn’t really know why things change, but he never was one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he's definitely not complaining.

-

“Jaskier? Jaskier stay awake, I need you to stay awake okay?” He should have known better than to let the bard get so close to a wyvern but they’re the stuff of legends Geralt, think of the music Geralt, the poetry. Geralt tried to tell him that wyverns were ugly bastards — absolutely nothing legendary or poetical about them. But Jaskier had his heart set, and Geralt, well, Geralt gave in.

Guilt helps no one however, so he just presses Roach onward, faster.

“’M’tired.” It’s clear that Jaskier is in no condition to play — the gash at his shoulder is bone deep, and it was all Geralt could do to keep it from spurting blood and stay attached  before getting him on Roach —  so Geralt takes him straight to the town’s healer.

“Just a little longer. I promise.” Leaning forward, he presses a kiss into Jaskier’s sweat-soaked hair. Stay awake, please stay awake.

By the time they get to the healer Jaskier’s skin is on fire, and he’s coughing strangled, wet coughs, and there are cuts and bruises covering his entire body that have no reason to be there. It’s only when he sees a familiar gash on the bard’s right thigh that he figures out what’s happening.

The last thing Jaskier remembers is a gigantic angry lizard screaming at him and lunging. Then a searing pain turned his vision white, then more pain ripped through his body as he was thrown, weightless into absolute dark.

Something pulled him cruelly from the vortex of nothingness, arranged his mangled body into what he thinks was an upright position. Then more pain as he was jostled about, more pain as he was surely dismembered, more pain as tendrils of hot summer air whipped at his exposed flesh. There was more jostling, and he tried to throw up but he didn’t know where his stomach was, and liquid fire was flung over whatever pieces were left of him, and there was an awful lot of screaming but it couldn’t have been him because he didn’t know where his lungs or throat were either.

And throughout he thought there was a voice telling him to stay awake, or go to sleep, or telling him he was okay (which seems like at odd thing to say to someone who was just ripped apart limb from limb) and he thinks the voice was Geralt’s but that can’t be right because now every time he opens his eyes to see him he’s not there, and — well, that’s it’s own kind of pain isn’t it?

He’s not sure how much time has passed between the lizard, the fire, and him waking up to find himself in one piece. One piece, but battered and bandaged, and too hot and very congested. He does not think he's being dramatic when he concludes that he's more miserable than he’s ever been.

The room he finds himself in is bare, but pleasant enough. Where ever he is is made of a warm, gold-honey sort of wood. Sunlight streams in through wide, open windows, gauzy curtains float listlessly in a gentle breeze. He’s sure the mattress and sheets he’s on would be more than comfortable if he wasn’t quite so sore. There’s a glass, and a pitcher of water on a small table to his side. He’s working up the courage to prop himself up and drink some when a strange man walks in.

“Ah, you’re awake!” The smile he gives reaches his soft grey eyes, and it warms Jaskier to see someone seemingly so happy to see him alive.

He tries to ask where he is, but his throat feels like sand paper, and all he manages is a hoarse sort of scraping sound.

“It’s probably best you don’t talk for now,” the strange man says as he moves to perch himself on the edge of the bed. “Here let me help you with that.” He fills the glass, lifts Jaskier’s head with practiced care and brings the water to his chapped lips. Jaskier manages to down half of it, and while swallowing is painful, the cool water feels heavenly going down.

“First,” the man offers, his countenance shifting into something more authoritative, “you must be wondering where you are. If you remember the last village you were in, this cabin is a little outside of that. I am a healer — you can call me Varden — and your friend brought you here about five days ago. He said you were attacked by a wyvern, but you had a multitude of other injuries on top of that and a rather nasty illness to boot. Your friend also informed me that you have a magic lute.”

He pauses then, giving Jaskier time to throw him a questioning, mildly suspicious look.

“I’ve had a look at it, and I concluded that you and your friend were right. Its magic does protect you, so long as you play it. When you were attacked the shock your body went through temporarily severed your connection to its magic, and all the injuries and illnesses it protected you from came back with a vengeance. I know it must be tempting now to make all this pain go away, but I really think you better let yourself heal properly to avoid this happening again, and much worse.”

After a moment of contemplation, Jaskier nods in agreement. His stomach knots, but surely that’s just a symptom of his ailments.

“Good!” He claps his hands together, the exuberance he first displayed returning in full force.  “Now that you’re properly awake I’ll make you some soup. You just rest, alright? You’ve made remarkable progress the last few days but there’s still quite a ways for you to go.”

He leaves then, and Jaskier can hear the clinking of pots and pans as he moves around the kitchen. Tired, but no longer able to sleep, restless, but unable to move, a dull ache throbbing through his whole body, he fixes his eyes on the ceiling, trying to find patterns and shapes and in the woodgrain.

“You’re awake.”

He doesn’t need to turn to see who it is, so he doesn’t.

“I had to complete a couple of contracts. To pay the healer.”

There’s nothing to say to that, and even if there were, he can’t speak, so he keeps his eyes fixed firmly upward.

“Jaskier—” Geralt takes a few steps closer, thinks better of it, and leaves.

The ceiling blurs, and Jaskier can’t make sense of it anymore.

-

They stay another three weeks — or Jaskier does, and Geralt scrounges up some more coin, coming and going as he pleases.

On days he does stay; he curls up on the floor next to Jaskier’s bed, where Jaskier slides in and out of fitful, fevered dreams. When the sick man hears a gravelly voices cooing comfort, or he feels a rough hand push the hair from his brow, or wipes the sweat from his face, he wants to believe it’s Geralt. Lucid, Varden’s is the only face he sees.

Finally the fever breaks, and Jaskier’s wounds have healed well enough for travel. Geralt returns and pays Varden more than was asked. He runs his hand through Jaskier’s hair, peers at him closely, much like he’s checking on a dog who’d just run headfirst into a door.

“Ready to go?”

Jaskier, his voice still worn, and slightly put off by the gesture, only nods in response.

Without another word, Geralt takes Jaskier’s pack, puts him on Roach, takes Roach’s lead, and guides them away from the cottage, and back on the Path.

The  thing is, despite his tepid countenance, Jaskier is sure that Geralt’s angry at him. Or he’s angry about something at any rate.

Perhaps it’s the frustration at having been tied too long to one place — ridiculous really. It’s not like anyone asked him to stay. It can’t be about the coin, seeing as he willingly over-paid.

So maybe it’s just that the sudden and violent reminder of Jaskier’s mortality pierced the both of them, and tore to ribbons the fragile intimacy they had spent so long weaving.

“You can’t play off every cut and flu from now on.” He says as they enter the woods.

“I know.”

“It’s dangerous.”

"I know." Jaskier supposes that he’ll just have to reacquaint himself with a life of being left behind.

Neither of them speak for the rest of the day. But then that night Jaskier can't fall asleep, his still-frail body shivering, too sensitive to the open air. He hears a resigned sigh, which is soon followed by the warmth of Geralt’s chest pressed behind him. Geralt’s hand cards his hair back, away from his eyes, Geralt’s nose brushes his scalp, Geralt inhales deeply, and holds him close with an arm firmly pressed against the length of his torso, and Jaskier thinks that maybe things will be okay. When he feels a chaste kiss at the back of his neck, he’s almost sure they will be, but then he wonders if it was a goodbye.

-

“I’m fine.”

“Jask—”

“It’s fine, I’ll be right as rain by morning.”

“Jaskier, you can’t. You promised.”

“I never promised, and I’m coming with you.”

“You’ll stay here. I’ll pick up a contract or two and I’ll come back for you in a few days.”

“No you won’t.” He doesn’t know whether it sounded more a directive, or the wounded that’s-what you-always-say it really was. In the stunned silence that follows he feels more and more like he’s confessed to something, so he adds “I’m not letting you leave me Geralt,” — which is infinitely  worse.

And now he can’t look at the other man, and now his face is burning and his eyes are watering in a way that has nothing to do with the illness preparing to wrack through his body.

“Okay.” Whatever Jaskier was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. It startles him enough to make eye contact. Geralt holds his gaze, and takes a few, cautious steps closer. “I’ll stay.”

“You don’t have to.” Jaskier offers in a weak attempt to maintain some level of dignity.

“No, I want to.” Geralt places his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders, then slowly grazes them down his arms as his continues. “I’ll stay. With you.” The words are nearly a whisper as he presses his lips to Jaskier’s too-warm brow. “Just please go to bed. You need rest.”

Without out waiting for a response, Geralt manoeuvres the sick man to the bed, tucking him in. When he straightens, Jaskier looks like he wants to protest, but Geralt slips in beside him before he has the chance. Propping himself himself up on his elbow, he glides his hand over the still smooth skin of Jaskier’s stomach.

“This okay?”

Jaskier nods once, not trusting himself to speak, and promptly falls asleep to keep himself from thinking  more than anything else.

It’s dark when he wakes up, the sky outside a flat, moonless black. The bed feels much colder and emptier. He feels much colder, and there’s a sticky film of dried sweat clinging to his skin. Flinging off the blanket sends a violent shiver though his body, bare except for his small clothes. The room is too dark for him to see.

“Jaskier.” He hears a voice, soft and deep from the corner. A candle flickers to life, and in its small glow he sees the vague shadow of a familiar form. “I’m right here.”

“I’m cold.”

“I’ve sent for some firewood. Come eat.”

Uneasy, not quite trusting his senses, Jaskier approaches the small round table in the corner of the room, and sits down. He hears the scrape of a plate being pushed towards him and when his eyes adjust to the low light he makes out bread and butter, some fruit — filling stuff that his presently delicate stomach can handle. He mumbles a thanks and sets about feeding himself.

He can see, in his peripheral vision, the other man leaning down, but he doesn’t understand the movement until he feels a large hand grasp his ankle. Geralt straightens, and with him brings Jaskier's foot to rest on his lap. Holding it in both hands, he slowly massages his thumbs into the arch. Jaskier realises then that he’s being watched. Closely.

He says nothing — can say nothing, and senses some smugness coming from the Witcher at having finally rendered him speechless. There is definitely an excess of smugness when Geralt raises his leg, and kisses the balls of his foot, all the while studying Jaskier, who keeps his eyes fixed on his plate. The blush that blooms over his face is near violent (surely the fever isn’t helping, but still) and he’s grateful that Geralt’s colour vision isn’t its best in the dark.

It’s harder than it should be to suppress the needy, plaintive sound that scratches at his throat when Geralt stands, answering a knock at the door. But then a bowl of hot stew is pushed in front of him, and a small fire is lit in the hearth, and Geralt sits down again, and takes Jaskier’s other foot in his hands. This time he keeps his eyes on his task, and lets Jaskier eat untroubled.

Now that the room’s a bit brighter, he casts his eyes around and is relieved to notice that Geralt’s packs are no longer waiting by the door. He does however, feel a twist in his stomach when he notices he can’t see his lute. He wants to say something about it, but he has the irrational fear that Geralt will stop massaging him, won’t sleep next to him later, won’t stick around til morning. So he says nothing, and Geralt’s hands work up his calves, and his body keeps Jaskier’s warm all night, and in the morning he rubs Jaskier’s back while he throws up bile, and keeps Jaskier's hair from sticking to his forehead.

In the afternoon Jaskier gets squirrelly, and he’s hot and tired and he needs to do something with his hands.

His lute makes a reappearance, but he can feel the heat of Geralt watching him from the corners of his amber eyes. So he settles on the bed and plays something distinctly non-magical, and feels much better anyway.

-

He hadn’t been serious, of course, when he’d wondered if his small brand of magic could mend his broken heart. But the tune had always provided him comfort, so he plucks away in the corner of a tavern, nursing an ale and his bruised ego.

So he’s not actually that far from the mountain, so perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised when a certain silver haired Witcher makes an appearance, but he’s had quite enough of bonds forged by magic against peoples’ wills thank you very much, so he promptly determines to book it to his room.

He only just manages to get a leg on the bottom stair when he feels a grab at his elbow.

“Jaskier —“ It sounds more exasperated that anything.

The bard turns sharply around, throwing as much vitriol into his still-boyish countenance as he can manage. It must work, because he’s never seen Geralt look quite so taken aback.

“I — I didn’t mean it.”

Of course he didn’t mean it. Jaskier knows he didn’t. But is was too much everything he’d always feared, and he still hasn’t heard an apology — hasn’t once, for anything since they’ve met — and he knows how Geralt feels about bonds forged by magic.

“Fuck off.” He wrests his elbow from the other man’s grip, and he doesn’t play himself to sleep that night, or any night after that.

-

It was much easier than it should have been — swearing off music. Music-less days turn into music-less months into a music-less almost two years, and twenty-two years of not-ageing catches up to him both gradually and all at once.

His jawline sharpens, the lines of his body harden, a significant amount of grey comes to salt his hair. He grows a beard — a proper one — and that’s almost all grey. And he likes it; studying himself in the bathroom mirror, in his lodgings in Oxenfert, he once again appreciates the air of authority his new look lends him and, well, he does look rather dashing.

He’d returned to Oxenfurt almost immediately after the mountain. One cannot be a travelling bard if one does not play music, and it took nearly all his coin just to get to the city. It was nearing winter when he arrived, his old classroom and lodgings were already prepared and waiting for him. Her threw himself into teaching with new verve, and was quickly offered a more permanent position.

People wonder why he stopped his travels — most assume he just got tired. They wonder too why he no longer plays music, but they have the good sense not to ask. Until, one night, fireside in a cozy tavern, surrounded by other faculty members and a few students staying in the city over Yule.

“Come on Professor, just one song,” a rather eager young man implores.

“Yeah professor,” goads one of his colleagues. He rolls his eyes at her — as if you don’t have your fair share of fawning students Celine.

“I’d be happy to oblige,” he lies, “but as it happens I do not have my lute,” and that’s true enough.

“I’ve got one!” Another over-eager student proffers the instrument and well, he’s in it now isn’t he?

He takes the instrument and a shock goes through him at how good it feels just to hold it in his hands. He takes his time, running a hand along the varnished wood, tuning it just so. He won’t play anything Elven, and his own repertoire is entirely out of the question. He settles for something traditional to the season; something cheery, that has people singing and stomping and clapping along in an instant.

He feels that thing like magic coursing through him as he starts swooping around the tavern in graceful-as-ever strides. His voice is out of practice but really only he can tell, and only just. It’s deeper than he remembers, and it reverberates easily over the crowd. He flits and flirts, and everyone is smiling and cheering, everyone is happy. And of course, no one notices how his skin begins to smooth out, just a little.

That night he retrieves his old friend where he’d stowed it out of sight, at the very top of his wardrobes. Where the other lute felt good, this feels right. The strings are buttery under his fingertips, and the notes ring true and clear without his having tuned them.

He doesn’t play anything Elven, and he doesn’t so much as think in the direction of a certain Witcher, but it feels like home anyway. After an unthinkable stretch of time, Jaskier finally feels himself returning home.

-

Campus is blissfully empty over Spring vacation, and Jaskier takes the opportunity to compose in the open air.

Compose. Just the word itself thrills him. What he’s working on is nothing like before, naturally. That well of inspiration was drained and sealed shut. Never again will he risk diving into its pitch depths. Now his head has been turned by a volume of old poetry he smuggled out of some long-forgotten corner of a university library.

There’s a courtyard —  framed by elegant arches and cherry trees with especially deep, richly coloured blossoms — that he’s particularly fond of. He sits there now, on a marble bench in the shade, his book open in front of him as he thinks of how best to transmute the spirit of the verses into music.

He plucks idly at lute strings — so long out of practice he hardly knows where to start. With a long suffering sigh he lies down, and the idle plucking transforms thoughtlessly into a song that sounds familiar, homely, and he’s thinking of the hero in the epic, with his wicked grin and long white hair and his amber eyes like a — no. The hero’s eyes are green, and nothing like a cat’s, and he doesn’t know why he would think they were because he definitely wasn’t thinking of the man who is now standing over him, looking down with a vaguely bemused expression.

“Geralt?” He scrambles to a standing position, unsure whether to run or attempt a punch, or if he’s even awake. “What — how — why are you here? You know what no,” he decides and begins gathering his things. “Just, fuck off alright? I don’t — I can’t — I won’t do this again.” As composed as he’ll ever be, considering the circumstances, he turns his back on the man he once thought was his and walks away. But there are so many things he needs to say.

“I loved you,” he spits, wheeling around, unable to keep the hurt out of it. “I loved you more than I loved myself and you —“ he breaks off, a sort of desperation plain in his voice and on his face. “I never knew where I stood with you.”

Geralt pauses. Words were never his strong suit, and he considers his very carefully. “I loved you too.”

“Oh fuck off with that.”

“I was self-centred, and I was cruel —“ He approaches slowly, carefully, as if hoping the other man won’t notice.

“No fucking shit.”

“— but I loved you. I still do.”

“Fuck you.”

“I miss you.”

“I gave up on you a long time ago.”

“It’s hell without you.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I still don’t know where I stand with you.”

“Let me show you.” He’d come to a pause in front of the other man, so close he can feel his breath on his skin. With one hand on the nape of Jaskier’s neck, and the other flat against his stomach, Geralt pulls him in for a kiss — and emphatic, I-will-always-love-you, kiss.

And maybe Jaskier goes more willingly than he’d like, or is expressly good for his ego, but he’s waited so long for this. Eventually he manages to pull himself away just enough to press their foreheads together.

“You’re not off the hook you know.”

“I know.” But Geralt only smiles, and kisses him again. “I know.”

[written-inthe-clouds]

Twilight rewrite Part 2

I am starting a new post for the rest of the rewrite because the other was getting WAY too long! Hope you guys like this! I debated if I wanted to include Edward’s POV, but I think it added a lot to it. Obviously I don’t know how Smeyer plans on writing for him, but I think the voice I gave him felt pretty true to character. 

Chapter 2 Part 2

Bella’s POV

I was gently woken from my coma like sleep by the smell of bacon and pancakes. I rolled over, only to be struck by the realization that there was someone next to be last night, but now her spot was vacant. I pushed myself out of bed, making my way to the smell, finding Alice standing in the kitchen, setting a plate on the table for me.

“Morning! I figured you’d want food before we left, and I’ve been up so I thought, why not cook.” her voice was much too cheery for the morning in my opinion, but she made food, so the good outweighed the bad. I slumped into my chair, slathered my food in syrup, and began to eat. I couldn’t remember the last time someone made me pancakes. Alice wore a satisfied smile across her face and she sat down to join me.

It didn’t take either of us long to get ready to head to school. I generally wore jeans and whatever t shirt was closest to me in my closet since a rain jacket hid it anyway. I loaned Alice a shirt so she wouldn’t have to wear the exact outfit she had worn the day before. She offered to drive us both to school, and I didnt see a reason to protest. The ride was fairly silent, but a comfortable silence. Paramore softly played in the background as we made our way through the light rain. She mentioned that the rain was going to pick up today and had thought my truck might not be up for the slick roads. I was still shocked at the amount she seemed to care for me, but I got the feeling she was just a very nice person in general.

When we pulled into the parking lot, it was fairly full. She pulled into an empty spot next to a silver volvo, where I saw who I know understood were her siblings. Rosalie turned to face us, with a forced smile on her face. The rest of them seemed unbothered by my presents, until I got out of the car.

Alice went down the line and introduced me to each of the boys. The one she was with, Jasper, looked as if he had just bitten his lip. His brows were pulled together and I could have sworn he was holding his breath. He had sandy blonde hair and had tanned skin and muscles that seemed like what you might get from working outside a lot. The biggest of the boys, Emmett smiled widely and offered a wave. He towered over the others and had dark brown hair. He was tanned like Jasper, but not quite as much, and his muscles definitely seemed like the kind he spent hours working on. The last one, Edward, wore an odd expression. It seemed like he was trying to figure out where he knew me from, or maybe he was just incredibly annoyed with Alice for bringing me into their group. I couldn’t quite tell. His hair was a reddish brown that sat in a mess of loose curls on his head. He was much more pale than his brothers, but he also had a muscular build. He was a little taller than Jasper, but seemed so much younger in the face. There was a softness to him, even with his less than happy expression. I tried not to stare too hard, but as I looked them all over, I realized that their eyes were all varying shades of golden brown. Edwards were the darkest, but they all seemed to be just a few shades off from one another, which stuck out to me simply because only two of them were related by blood.

“I better head to class. Thanks for the ride, Alice.” I took the pause after the introductions as my way out. I wasn’t offended that none of them seemed to have anything to say to me, because honestly I wasn’t sure what to say to any of them either. Alice had been nice, coming to hangout with me, but I didn’t want to just insert myself into their group, especially since everyone was paired off but Edward. I was fine being alone, and I was ready to go back to that.

Edwards POV

Alice had asked us to all wait for her in the parking lot. I wasn’t sure why she was doing all of this. She insisted on helping Isabella Swan, and I understood it to an extent, but what I didn’t understand was why we all had to suddenly be involved. She had called me last night, telling me she thought Bella needed a better group of friends, but I informed her that we shouldn’t be that group. Rose was right. We couldn’t risk our family’s safety by taking in a human. I respected Alice for wanting to help her, but there was a line.

I had seen Bella around school before, just in passing. She always wore muted colors and had her head in a book or looked at her feet as she walked. Alice talked often about her visions of Bella becoming more and more depressed, and had even shared them with me. I felt for her situation, but I left the helping to Alice. I wasn’t about to stick my nose in human business, especially when the human didn’t really seem to want help.

When Alice’s car pulled up next to us, we all braced ourselves in our own way. Jasper immediately held his breath, being the newest to our lifestyle. Rosalie tried her best to seem happy, and Emmett - Well Emmett just smiled. He didn’t mine Alice’s mission, and even said he had felt bad for Bella. It wasn’t that any of the rest of us lacked compassion, but Emmett was the most childlike of us all. He wore his feelings on his sleeve, unlike me. Who tried to forget the human emotions that plagued me.

Bella got out of the car, and I immediately listened for her thoughts. I wanted to know what she thought of us. Thought of Alice. I hoped that Alice had been discrete, but I wasn’t sure what Bella might have picked up on. I waited, trying to find her voice, but there was nothing. I tried to tune the others out, thinking that their thoughts were simply too loud, but there was nothing.

My visions changed, but I’m worried it will change back. We both know that one night isn’t going to save her. Play nice. Alice’s voice practically screamed in my head. I nodded in her direction, but immediately turned my attention to Bella. Her long, brown hair was tucked behind one ear, the other side framed the side of her slim, slightly rounded face. She must have not spent much time outside in Phoenix because she was about as pale as I was. There wasn’t anything that particularly stood out about her features, but I couldn’t deny the natural beauty she held.

I tried not to stare too intensely at the poor girl. She seemed incredibly uncomfortable, and quickly excused herself. The whole time she was walking away, I tried to catch something. Maybe her voice was quiet. Maybe I wasn’t listening hard enough, distracted by my own thoughts or Alice’s. Nonetheless, I couldn’t hear anything.

“Wow. Way to play nice. None of you said anything! Thanks for the help you guys.” Alice’s voice dripped with sarcasm. She shot me a menacing glance. What’s your problem?

“I couldn’t hear her thoughts.” I said flatly. Still confused by what had just happened. You didn’t hear anything? Like nothing at all? Are you sure? Alice paused, wondering if I was joking.

“Maybe she wasn’t thinking about anything.” Emmett said out loud, causing all eyes to turn on him. Idiot. Rosalie thought to herself. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. Is he serious? Alice asked me. Dear lord Jasper moaned.

“Emmett. That’s not how that works. You can’t just not think. You’re always thinking about something, even if you aren’t actively trying to.” I tried my best to not let the implied idiot slip through my explanation. No one but Alice could truly begin to understand how my gift worked, so I understood his confusion. It was still amusing.

I now had a mission, not too much different from Alice’s. I needed to figure out what was going on with Bella. I had to know why I couldn’t read her mind, so I decided I’d try to, from a distance, listen to those around her and see if I could pick up on something. Some people’s voices were soft and didn’t break through the louder ones. I also didn’t know her well, so that would also make it hard to hear. No matter the reason, I wanted to figure it out. I wanted to know more about her.

Bella’s POV

The day passed like every other, until lunch. As I was in line getting food, Alice practically materialized next to me. I was lucky I didn’t jump out of my skin.

“Sit with us?” she asked, though she was practically pulling me towards her family’s table. I supposed sitting in silence at a different table couldn’t really hurt. When I walked past my usual group, I could feel their eyes following me to the Cullen’s table. Alice sat next to Jasper and gestured for me to sit in the open seat next to Edward. The only seat left. As I took my seat, I saw Edward shift slightly away from me out of the corner of my eye. I took a quick scan of all of their faces, trying to see if I had imagined their eyes all being so similar. I hadn’t.

“How’s everyone's day going?” Alice started up the conversation. A low chuckle left Edward’s lips, though I wasn’t sure what he was laughing at. Alice shot a glare in his direction that caused him to sit up slightly in his seat.

“Pretty good.” I decided to speak up first, not wanting to seem rude. “Just normal stuff I guess. Trying to remember if I have my old paper on Chaucer from last year so I don’t have to write a new one.”

“How are you settling in? Are you liking Forks?” Edward’s voice was low, so low it seemed as if he were whispering. I sat there for a moment before I realized he was waiting for my response. His voice caught me off guard. It was deep and melodic, but there was something about how he looked at me when he spoke, like he wasn’t sure if I would hear him. His jaw was clenched, and his face held a puzzled look. I couldn’t deny how handsome he was, but tried to focus on his words and nothing more.

“I like it fine, I guess. It’s basically the same as it was when I was a kid. Just weird to be back here. Weird to be in the rain all of the time.”

“You don’t like the rain.” he wasn’t asking. He reiterated my statement back to me as if to verify it. I nodded back, not sure what else to say. Edward shifted in his seat, and looked to his siblings, waiting for someone else to speak I supposed. “Forks isn’t all bad. There isn’t a ton to do around here, but it's kind of a make your own adventure. Lots of places to hike and play ball.” Emmett’s voice was gruff but kind. Rosalie smiled when he spoke and placed her hand on his. I had thought the whole dating foster siblings thing would be weird, but they seemed to really care for one another. It was clear even in such a small action.

“You guys play sports a lot?” I asked Emmett. I should have guessed that hiking and general outside activities would be his type of thing.

“Oh yeah. Especially baseball. Like I said, not much to do, but there's a whole lot of woods to explore.”

“Aren’t there like, bears and stuff in the woods? I’d be too scared to spend much time out there.” apparently my comment was amusing because each of them broke into quiet laughter. I obviously missed the joke. “What? Are bears not scary here or something?”

“It’s just a very city thing to say.” Edward was still chuckling to himself. “How much time did you spend here as a child?”

“Some Christmases when I was little. Every summer until I was a teenager and got tired of it. I didn’t like going back and forth and then my mom got sick and died so.” Edward immediately looked down at his hands. I realized I had come across a little harshly considering he had only been joking around before about the bears. Maybe I was more city than I realized, but I was embarrassed to have the whole table laugh at me.

“I’m sorry. I heard about your mother. That must have been very hard for you.” Edward’s eyes were locked on mine. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. His voice was soft and kind. He seemed genuinely concerned that he had struck a nerve.  

“It’s fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just a blunt person.” I let out a small laugh, remembering how much my mom used to tell being blunt was just a nicer way of saying I was being rude. She wasn’t wrong.

“Blunt is good. Just means you’re honest.” Edward smiled a crooked smile at me and I couldn’t help but smile back. I felt a wash of comfort as I looked into his face. He didn’t seem to mind my little snap, and neither did the rest of them. I remember that they had all lost their parents somehow, so maybe they were just the people to say that kind of thing to.

The bell sounded, signaling the end of lunch. I wrapped up my untouched sandwich so I could sneak it into my next class and got up from the table. I looked over to see Jessica’s eyes locked on me, undoubtedly waiting to hear every detail. I turned to say goodbye to the Cullens, and Edward was looking at Jessica, trying hard to hide a smile. Maybe he liked Jessica, and was wanting to talk to me to get to her. I couldn’t think of a better reason for him to have taken an interest in me. Other than to be nice to Alice.

“I’ll meet you outside your last class, okay.” Alice rested her small hand on my shoulder and flashed a sweet smile. I couldn’t help but feel we were already close friends despite the fact that I didn’t generally make friends quickly. But I already felt a sense of comfort around her, especially now. I nodded in agreement and headed off to class.

The minute I walked into Biology, Jessica was waiting to pounce. She wasn’t even in the class with me, but I guess she couldn’t wait to hear about my lunch with the Cullens.

“So what is up?” her voice was eager.

“What do you mean?” I wasn’t sure what part she was most interested in, the fact that I sat with the family or the fact that, from an outside perspective, it looked like I was there to be with Edward.

“The Cullens? You sat with them! How did that happen?” she sounded annoyed that I didn’t just start from the beginning like she would have.

“Oh uh, Alice came over last night to work on homework and it got late so she slept over and then she invited me to eat lunch with them. Nothing crazy.”

“She came to your house? And spent the night? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Cullens talk to anyone else since they moved here. I mean, they just all seem so shy, I didn’t think they’d ever ask someone to sit with them.” Jessica was breathless as she worked through the mystery of the Cullens in her mind.

“She’s really nice.” I defended, not liking Jessica’s implication that the Cullens were too rude to talk to anyone. Someone like Jessica didn’t realize how hard it was to lose a parents, and they had each lost both of theirs. It changes you. It certainly changed me.

“Oh I mean, yeah. I didn’t think she was mean or anything. Just odd.” Jessica backed off a little. This was the most we had ever spoken, and I think she understood I was equally as weirded out by Alice’s sudden interest in me. “One more question though, were my eyes deceiving me or was Edward Cullen like, making eyes at you the whole time?”

“I can wholeheartedly tell you you’re wrong there.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought, “He asked me how I liked Forks and that was pretty much it.” I decided to leave out the dead mom talk of it all.

“Are you sure because he hardly took his eyes off of you. God, isn’t he beautiful?” Jessica leaned in and whispered as Mr. Banner walked in. “I highly doubt that, Jessica.” I began to take my seat, hoping she’d take that as a signal that the conversation had run its course.

“You do think he’s cute! You’re totally blushing.” she gushed louder than I would have liked her to, causing my cheeks to flush more.

“I’m not blind, okay. Yeah he’s pretty, but he was just being nice. I can promise you.” I whispered, hoping it was quiet enough that even Jessica might have trouble hearing me. Mr. Banner directed her to head to class, and she giggled as she ran from the room, leaving me behind red faced and a little annoyed.

[oimoi-op]

when were you diagnosed with t1d?

Ok, so storytime! Short answer is, as of today, barely over two months ago. 

(Very long post warning y’all, contains hospital mention and extensive, possibly upsetting descriptions of health conditions, specifically DKA)

My family doesn’t really have a history of T1D or even T2D, though my second-cousin-once-removed has had T1D for over a decade now. So, there was never any reason for me to try and get tests done for it. The only sign I really had up until last semester was two copies of a variant of an HLA gene that I knew about from a 23andMe report (which, according to the report, put me at a higher risk for celiac’s and nothing else), but of course at that time I had no idea that that could mean anything serious; after all, that sort of thing only happens to other people, right?

My college started in-person classes in the latter half of August. By October, I started feeling tired, having a lack of appetite, and needing water very, very badly. I actually went to my school’s clinic, and my erratic heartbeat prompted the doctor to recommend me for a Covid-19 test. My school’s protocols meant that I had to quarantine at my home (since I live within two hours of campus) until I got a negative test result. At home, I was drinking water all the time and sleeping constantly, and my parents had commented on how I’d been losing weight. I thought these were all good things. I had been slightly overweight at my high school graduation, and I’d always heard that drinking a lot of water is good for you, so I thought I was actually in excellent health even if I kind of felt like shit most of the time.

Well. Uh. I was wrong.

When finals came around in mid-November, I was just fucking tired. I’d get a decent eight hours of sleep and still have to take naps during the day. Hell, I was even late for work because I slept through one of my nap alarms. Studying was a pain in the ass. Attending classes was a pain in the ass. Staying awake for Zoom classes was a pain in the ass. I was waking up at 5 am to go to the bathroom, and then I would drink the rest of my water, refill it, drink half of it again, and then go back to sleep. Finally, November 20th rolled around, and I got to leave campus. It was my birthday (yeah I am a Scorpio and that weirds all of my friends out lol), and my parents took me to Fusion. And I just...couldn’t eat at all? I love hibachi, but I couldn’t even eat half of my food. The chef even got me a delicious banana split that I had to basically bully my younger sister into eating with me.

For the next week, I was sleeping about 18 hours a day. I didn’t think this was weird because I’d just had finals so yeah, it makes sense that I would be tired after exams and whatnot. I went shopping with my mom, sister, and sister’s bff. We were only out for a few hours, but I was fucking wiped out y’all, like in pain. Thanksgiving arrived, and again, I love food, I love eating, but I was not hungry in the slightest. I basically had to force myself to eat some of my favorite holiday foods just so I wouldn’t offend my mom, and then I didn’t eat for the day.

The very next morning, I was puking my guts out.

This started a pattern for the next few days: I would eat chicken noodle soup or some other food, sleep like the dead, and throw up every morning and every night. I started chugging large bottles of Gatorade constantly (which, if you know about diabetes and its health complications, did not help my situation in the slightest). I started breathing erratically after very little exertion. Like, I’m talking standing up and stretching brought about heavy, labored breathing. I weighed myself on my parents’ scale, and I was under 130 lbs. Now, for some people this might seem like a lot, but due to my height and build I could fucking see some of my ribs. That was when I started to realize that something was very, very wrong, but “losing weight is good” and I didn’t want my parents to laugh at me for voicing concerns (though, for all their faults, in hindsight, I doubt they would’ve). Yeah. Don’t do that, folks, that’s not a good mindset to have. 

On Sunday, my mom took me to town to get tested for Covid. This was despite me saying that I didn’t have symptoms (which I knew very well due to some of my friends catching it at school). Rapid test came back negative, so I did a culture test. Hell, while I was sitting in the damn chair, I was about to pass out. I asked for a nausea pill but my mouth was too dry for it to dissolve. I got a cup of water, downed it all, and felt like my throat was on fire. For the rest of the day I felt so, so awful. At some point I was walking toward my bed in my room and I fucking fell. I’m fucking lucky there was carpet. 

Regarding the rest of that night, things start to get blurry, for the lack of a better term. I legitimately cannot recall everything that happened that night or the following two days, so I will just try to explain it in the way I remember it best.

Around...midnight or one??? I was on fucking fire, so I went to my bathroom and decided to lie on the floor. The floor was hardwood and not at all cold, and it wasn’t fucking comfortable even in that state, but I was just in so much pain I didn’t even care. My mom must’ve heard because she found me there and asked me what I was doing. I said something about the floor. She asked me to go back to bed, but I must’ve scared her because she asked me if I wanted her to lie in the bed with me. I don’t remember what I said to her, but we were in the bed and she was trying to hug me, but she was too warm and so I told her to stop. I kept feeling this burning just below my chest, like there was acid in me (which I guess wasn’t too far off), so I would randomly sit up to try and alleviate the pain and not cry. I remember asking my mom to take me to the hospital in the morning.

My mom put me in the truck (I think around 5 am is what she told me). I remembered hearing my dad. I was lying down. Then I was awake, but I was on the floor. I thought this was wrong so I tried to tell my mom that but I guess I couldn’t talk. Then I was in a hospital bed, the ER I assume. My mom gave me some water with a sponge, and I was just so fucking thirsty. Then I was in the ICU hooked up to a bunch of machines. I didn’t know what was going on, but my mom kept giving me water with that sponge. That is all I remember from Monday.

I remember a little bit more from Tuesday. My mom said something about diabetes, but that didn’t make any sense to me because I wasn’t “fat” and I’d been losing weight, even! What had I done to get diabetes? I was thirsty and tired, so I slept a lot. At some point I really needed to use the restroom so I unhooked my IV???? (I mean I must’ve disconnected myself somehow but I can’t remember the details) which set off a shit ton of alarms and people were Very Concerned and kept asking me Why Did You Do That? But I just needed to go to the restroom, and they told me to use the Red Button to Call the Nurse (it was already there, and I now realize that we’d probably had a similar conversation about the Red Button to Call the Nurse possibly multiple times before this) in the future. A Chopped Teen Tournament from 2017 was playing on the TV nonstop. There were commercials for CGMs. I thought that God wasn’t being very funny about the whole thing.

As of now I remember even less of Wednesday, but I know that felt better. There was this diabetes specialist who kept talking about insulin and life at college moving forward, but I wasn’t really there, either because of being so out of it for health reasons, disassociating, or a combination of the two. My mom told me she had emailed a professor so he would give me an extension on an assignment that was due by then, and I remember crying because I thought that was just so nice of him. That night, this guy got me in a wheelchair and put me in another room, which I would later learn was the ACU. My night nurse was this nice woman named Tanya, who had a very thick Eastern European accent. She got me orange juice to take some potassium pills, but it felt like swallowing rocks. I didn’t really get a lot of sleep, so I was awake when the nurses changed shifts. I remember one of them expressing surprise that I was out of the ICU so early.

My mom took longer to come that day because nobody had told her I’d been moved. I’d had plain Cheerios and orange juice for breakfast, but I couldn’t really eat because my throat hurt so badly. I talked to a lot of doctors. I guess at this point or somewhere near it I accepted that I had diabetes, but it wasn’t really real until the same diabetes specialist was going over carbs. I thought I was never going to eat shit I liked ever again. I really wanted a fucking McChicken sandwich. I signed some papers for Medicaid because I had aged out of the CHIP while in the hospital. I finally texted my friends and explained to them what had happened. I was so fucking tired.

I got out the next day, so that was Thursday. Normally, I would’ve been in the hospital much longer (especially because my Medicaid hadn’t been approved, meaning no insurance had approved of my insulin yet), but Covid cases were on the rise and the hospital wanted me out of there. The diabetes specialist and one of my nurses snuck me two fast-acting and two basal insulin pens, and I was out. I ate half a McChicken, a small fry, and drank my first Diet Coke. It tasted like diesel mixed with piss. 

That’s the gist of it. The hospital staff was very nice and thoughtful the entire time, I think. I felt as though everyone involved cared about my health a lot. 

For those of you who aren’t T1D or just don’t know, what I experienced is called DKA, short for diabetic ketoacidosis. To simplify, I was very close to entering a diabetic coma. My sister later told me that our dad had said (I assume a doctor had told my mother, who, in turn, had told him) that I was “approximately 45 minutes” away from death. DKA happens when a diabetic (usually a T1D like me) has too much blood sugar in their body due to them lacking the insulin necessary to break the sugar down, so their body breaks down their fat reserves and muscle to get the energy it needs. This is why I lost around 50 pounds over the course of a few months (I was 118 lbs. when I entered the hospital, the lowest I’ve been since grade school). I was officially diagnosed with T1D on November 30th, just ten days after my 19th birthday, which is a little older than normal I believe. It’s...well, it’s not fun, but I feel very grateful for my large support system, and tomorrow I’m trying out a CGM for the first time and applying for both it and a pump, so things are really looking up 

[dreamescapeswriting]

Surprise Date Night ~ KSJ [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 1.5K

↬↬↬Genre: Fluffy

↬↬↬Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Filipino!Reader

↬↬↬A/N: The original request was for a reaction post but I couldn’t figure a way around it without it all being the same so I hope that this is okay for you my love!!  [I lost the screenshot - I’d lose my head if it wasn’t screwed on but it was ‘’BTS Reaction - Their S/O is Filipino.” 

Jin was awake that morning, he'd heard your alarm going off and decided to get up with you but you hadn't heard him and went straight into the bathroom. He was going to go and cuddle you from behind but he heard you crying on the phone to someone and he frowned to himself, he had no idea you were upset over anything and wanted to know what was wrong. Raising his hand up to the door he went to knock when he heard a broken sob,

"I can't tell him, he'll think I don't want to be here. I love it but I miss you all so much." His hand lowered as he realised the time, you were probably talking to your parents back home in the Philippines since they were an hour behind you.

"I'm sorry, I'll call you later. Love you." You hung up and he heard the shower running so he grabbed his phone trying to plan something nice for you. He had no idea you'd been missing home so much or he would have done something before now. Last month you had a family wedding that you couldn't go to because you couldn't get the time off work and neither could Jin and now he felt awful.

When you'd first moved to Korea to be with Jin - your boyfriend  - you'd planned on going home at least three times a month just to spend time with your family. You had a large family and being without them felt strange to you but after the first couple of months of living in Korea, you and Jin were finding it harder and harder to get away and go home to the Philippines.

"You're up early." You said as you came out of the bathroom rubbing a towel on your hair to dry it,

"Yeah, me and the boys are doing some extra work today." He walked over to you and gave you a loving kiss, you smiled against his lips and he walked away telling you how much he loved you as he left.

"Bye! Love you too!" You called out, once the front door was shut you sighed and laid down on the bed staring up at the ceiling. It wasn't that you didn't love living in Korea because you did, living with your boyfriend the one you loved every day was the best but nothing could compare to being at home with your family.

"You're sure she has no idea about this?" Namjoon asked as they worked around the small lounge in the BigHit building they'd pushed the sofa back against the wall and replaced the giant photo of Jimin on the wall with a giant photo of you and Jin instead.

"I still don't like that I've been replaced," Jimin mumbled as he and Taehyung laid a table cloth over the table they'd brought in, they were in charge of laying the table while Namjoon and Jin were in charge of cleaning up and ordering the boys around. Yoongi and Jungkook were decorating the rest of the room with photographs of you and your family that your mother had sent Jin and Hoseok was waiting for you outside the building. You'd finished work early and Jin's plan was going great, he was inviting you over for dinner - which normally would mean take out in the studio with the rest of the boys but tonight was different. He'd spent all morning cooking traditional Filipino meals with a dessert, he wanted to make sure tonight was perfect for you. It wasn't the best solution for you feeling homesick but it was something to do until he could surprise you with the second half of the night.

"Hoseok? I thought Jin was meeting me." You pulled your bag over your shoulder as you walked over to Hobi who was smiling at you, he'd never been good at hiding things but he was doing his best right now.

"He's just a little busy so I'll walk you up, how was work?" He questioned as you both walked into the building together. You sighed thinking about your day, it was only half a day but it had been one of the longest days of your life.

"Awful, I swear if I have to hear one more Karen complain to me that her coffee has been made wrong I might jam and spoon in my ear." You laughed along with what you were saying, you loved your job but somedays it did just do your head in.

"I'm glad we don't have to deal with that." You smiled as you stepped into the elevator together he was being unusually quiet for Hoseok and it made you think that something was going on instantly. Then when you got off on the fourth floor instead of the sixth you knew something was happening,

"Right this way Ma'am." Yoongi said as he stood in front of the lounge door in a suit and tie, you smiled at him and walked through the door. The lights were all off and the room was lit up by candles, there was a table in the middle of the room covered in a white table cloth with two plates sitting opposite one another.

"Jin?" You questioned watching as he came in from another door holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers, you started tearing up when he walked over to you and pulled you into a hug taking your bag from your shoulder and setting it down on the sofa.

"What's all this for? Did I forget our anniversary?!" You panicked thinking the worst but he started laughing and shaking his head at you.

"Can't I do something nice for you?" You relaxed and he sat you down at the table pouring you a drink before sitting across from you.

"How was work?"

"Stressful, how was work for you?" You asked not wanting to get into your day and ruin the evening,

"This was my day." The door opened and Jimin walked in with Namjoon both of them dressed in black waistcoats and white shirts carrying a tray each.

"The first course," Namjoon said placing the tray down in front of you and removing the lid from the trays to reveal Seasame pork appetizers sitting there waiting. You breathed in the familiar scent and smiled, it smelt like home. Whenever your mother knew you were having a rough time she would make this as well as your favourite meal.

"You did this?" You questioned looking away from the meal to Jin who was starting to eat,

"I did, eat up. I have another surprise once we've finished eating." You held hands from across the table while finishing the appetizers.

"You didn't have to do all this." You were both laying on the sofa in the lounge, he was laying behind you drawing patterns into your arm and kissing your shoulder. You were both stuffed from all the food you'd eaten and you felt like you were going to slip into a food coma at any moment.

"I did, and the night isn't over. Wait here," He kissed your cheek and got out from behind you going over to the table again and taking something out from under his placemat.

"What's this?" You questioned as he handed you the envelope with nothing written on the front, he nodded for you to open it so you peeled it open and to reveal two plane tickets inside.

"They're one way?" You questioned looking at the tickets that had your hometown written across them for next weekend,

"We're going to spend as much time as you want there, I've already spoken to your boss and he's fine with this...Not that I gave him a choice." Silent tears rolled down your cheeks as you thought about going home to your family, spending time with everyone.

"I heard you on the phone this morning, why didn't you just tell me?" His hand was on your cheek wiping away tears from your face as you looked away from the tickets to his face.

"I didn't want you to think I don't love it here because I do, I adore it here but I just-"

"Miss your family, you could have told me." You sighed and nodding knowing that you should have gone to him first and it was silly for you not to.

"I promise next time I'll go to you if I feel homesick." You kissed him softly on the lips and then once more, putting the tickets down on the coffee table and kissing him more passionately this time.

"I love you." You whispered bringing him back onto the sofa next to you and sitting on his lap, he ran his hands through your hair and smiled against your lips.

"I love you too." He mumbled holding you closer to him and never wanting this to end but he knew that he would have to start cleaning up before someone walked into the room.

"Let me clean up and we'll head home." He kissed you once more before moving you from his lap and getting up to clean everything up. You followed behind him wanting to help him after everything he'd done for you tonight. 

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies​ @snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @lyoongx​ @fan-ati--c​ @mitzwinchester​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​

[ruelpsen]

Ruelpsen Writes #4: In Dreams

Sorry it’s taken me so long to write up anything lately. Hopefully this will give me a good start on turning that around...

Anyway, this one’s fairly short and is based on a dream I had that I made a post about a few months ago. First person perspective, male partner, primarily covering stuffing and burping. Enjoy! And as always, feedback is appreciated.

I was too deeply asleep to hear his key in the lock. My partner had a habit of coming in quietly after getting home from work, so this was nothing unusual. What would prove to be unusual, however, was the scene that followed... after about an hour more of sleep for me, that is.

I’m not totally sure what it was that stirred me awake. Could’ve been a mosquito, feeling too cold, a regular twinge of pain somewhere in my tired body- but ultimately, whatever it was didn’t matter. But as I began to come to my senses, I heard something odd downstairs. It sounded like a groan. Probably just my partner, I reasoned, seeing as he was not yet in bed beside me. I checked my watch. It was 3:16 in the morning, and normally he’d be beside me by now. I decided it best to get up and go down to see what the matter was with him.

What a sight there was to behold as soon as I’d made it downstairs and into the living room. There he was sprawled out on the couch, a bag of chips still in hand as he groaned from how full he was.

“My, my... what have we here?” I asked in a slightly teasing manner. He tried to sigh before replying, only succeeding in pushing a little air out due to how incredibly overstuffed he was, chasing it up with a very quiet burp.

“I...” he trailed off, groaning again. I approached him, hands on my hips as I maintained my semi-sweet, semi-sultry demeanor.

“How much did you eat, my big boy?” I asked. “Answer me.” He pointed towards the kitchen.

“See for yourself,” he huffed.

So I did. My jaw dropped as soon as I saw what a mess he’d made of the kitchen. The fridge door was left wide open, and there were empty Tupperware containers and food wrappers everywhere. I was somewhat amazed that he’d managed to do such damage without waking me. I took a closer look at the fridge and found that he’d eaten all the remaining leftovers from the last few night’s dinners, among other things. That alone was a lot of food- and to think he’d clearly put a serious dent in our ice cream supply as well...

Needless to say, I was thoroughly impressed. The poor guy was stuffed as could be and likely suffering for it. Least I could do was help him out a bit. I went back to the living room, dropping any remaining desire to tease him for his gluttony. I looked down on him as he continued to groan and took pity.

“Darling?” I asked. “Do you want some help with how you’re feeling? I saw how much you ate out there. I’m impressed, but I can only imagine how full you feel...”

“Please do,” he whimpered. I sat down on the couch, laying his upper body in my lap. Carefully I began to run the tips of my fingers along his taut belly, pressing gently every so often to try and find those pesky air bubbles that were only adding to his pain.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me good morning?” I asked. I lowered my head to his. Right as our lips touched, I pressed down more firmly on his stomach. I could hear a burp begin to slide its way up his throat. He immediately turned his head and belched into my ear. It was short yet deep, with a decent amount of heft behind it.

“What did you think would happen there?” he asked me. “Are you trying to get me to burp in your mouth?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Oh. Uh... Not sure how I feel about doing that. Even if you like it, it just sounds... gross.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I understand. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, okay?”

“Thank you. Sorry if I disappointed you there.”

“No, no, don’t worry! I would much rather keep you comfortable than indulge myself a little, you know. Now let’s keep working those burps out, shall we?”

“Yes pleaseeeeeRRRRRRUUUUUP!!!”

“Good boy.”

I patted his stomach, bringing up a small afterburp. I then encouraged him to sit up and sit in front of me. I wrapped my legs around the lower part of his engorged gut while I continued to massage it with my hands. Once the burps started coming, they couldn’t stop. Soon they were coming up every few seconds, interrupting us as we continued to converse. The subject of our conversation quickly turned from what foods he’d eaten to the burps themselves. He was enjoying getting the gas out just as much as I loved hearing it, and I couldn’t help but rate each magnificent eructation that left his mouth. Each one started with a gurgle deep in his gullet before traveling upward and being expelled. As time progressed, they went from being fairly quiet to loud and long. Groans gave way to moans following each one, paired with the occasional ‘oh fuck yes.’

Eventually, he turned around so we could face each other. I of course continued to dote on his still bloated gut, but we could now easily kiss between each burp, with some gentle back and ass rubs in there as well. At one point, that sweet fucker even followed up a kiss by belching the words ‘I love you’ into my ear. That sent me over the edge and he was momentarily on his back with me on top of him, the force of my weight causing him to throw back his head and let out the single biggest belch of the night. It started out loud and proud before trailing off and becoming deeper, lasting damn near ten seconds in all.

“Damn, I didn’t know I had thaaaAAAAAUUUUURP! in me!” he exclaimed, interrupting himself with a short burp. All I could do was laugh, kiss him again, and help work the next burp up.

After some time, I moved myself next to him as we began to doze off- me from my original tiredness and him from a delayed food coma. He lulled me to sleep with the occasional quiet burp, as if to remind me that there might be more of this in store for the following night...

[thecreedsgambit]

Two of Hearts | Ethan x MC (Jane)

Chapter 2: Mediation 

Summary: A fluff piece because, Heaven knows, Jane needs it.

Author’s Note: Honestly, I debated including this as its own chapter, but I loved this idea too much not to share it with you all. I wanted to divvy up the romance in this series with a little bit of fluff (mainly because I wanted to include Sienna and Aurora in this series because why not). I’m posting a chapter three tonight, as well. I also wrote Ethan fluff, and I need to share it ASAP too. Enjoy both!

Song Inspiration: Meant to Be by Bebe Rexha x Florida Georgia Line

Tags: @mvalentine @ethanramseysgirl @openheart12 @junggoku @tefigranger @noboundariesplease @colossalpainintheass @lifeof-liv @ethxnrxmsey @kaavyaethanramsey @paulfwesley @ethandaddyramsey @adrex04

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Chapter 1: The Other Woman

The sun’s rays snuck through Jane’s ivory, french curtains, casting a warm glow onto her face. It only took moments for her eyes to flutter open, and, seconds later, her phone rang. She hadn’t even noticed she fell asleep; it took her a long time to clear her head last night. She had told herself that it was going to be a long night, but she was glad her exhaustion proved her wrong.

She rolled onto her back and didn’t make any attempt to reach for her phone. She knew who it was; he had tried calling her sometime last night, too.

Ethan.

A part of her wanted to answer, of course, but she wasn’t sure how willing she was to talk to him. She had hoped he would show up at her door last night, but he didn’t. She should have been eager to answer his call; to hear his voice; to hear whatever he had to say. No matter how eager she might have felt deep down, though, she just couldn’t reach for her phone.

“Jane.” A voice came from the other side of her bedroom door followed by a soft knock. The door opened slowly before Sienna’s head popped in. When she saw that Jane was awake, she stepped into her room. “Good morning, sleepy-head.”

Jane managed a smile. “Good morning.”

Sienna bit her cheek before offering her a sheepish smile, hope practically shimmering in her eyes. “Aurora came home this morning … and we’re making breakfast. Do you want to come help with the pancakes?”

Jane’s eyes darted away momentarily, nervously toying with her fingers. She suddenly remembered her fight with Aurora at the softball game - how angry she had gotten after Dr. Tobias Carrick revealed to her exactly how he’d found out about Edenbrook’s intention to study their coma patient. Admittedly, she did feel slightly embarrassed that she let her temper get the best of her.

Jane cared strongly for Edenbrook, for helping herself and her friends keep their jobs. But she also cared for Aurora, and, quite frankly, she was tired of arguing with the people she cared about.

Her attention returned to Sienna as she sat up with a nod. “Sure, I’ll be out there in a minute.”

Sienna grinned, bouncing excitedly, as she hurried out of her room and closed the door behind her.

Jane took a moment before getting up, her eyes wandering toward her phone that rested on her pillow. She stayed like that until she heard soft laughter emanate from the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, she rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of stray black shorts she found near her closet.

As she exited her room and walked toward the kitchen, throwing her hair into a ponytail, she attempted to brace herself for seeing Aurora again. When she rounded the corner, she locked eyes with Aurora and instantly knew she hadn’t been the only one bracing for what was to come next.

“Hey,” Jane said softly.

Aurora eyed her nervously. “... hey.”

Sienna’s smile died on her lips as she turned to see Jane standing at the edge of the counter, hesitating to step forward. She quickly slid a glass bowl toward her with a quirked eyebrow. “You’re on pancake duty, Jane.”

Jane’s eyes momentarily flickered down to the bowl. “Are we making pancakes from scratch?”

Sienna looked offended, eyes widening. “Of course.”

Jane walked closer, grabbing the bowl and proceeding to add ingredients as Sienna directed. They all moved around the kitchen; the tense air quickly waned as Sienna made the effort to strike up a conversation about a few patients she’d met in the clinic.

As Sienna turned to start a pot of coffee, Jane let her eyes glance over at Aurora, who was casting her eyes down at a small bowl in front of her. Sienna asked her to make the blueberry sauce for their pancakes, and Aurora looked as if she would rather be on coffee duty.

Jane’s lips curled slightly. “Have you added the lemon juice yet?”

Aurora’s face gave way to a moment of shock before she furrowed her eyebrows, giving the blueberries an annoyed stir. “I’m horrible at this,” she grumbled.

Jane couldn’t help a snort that escaped her lips, and Aurora’s eyes cut towards her in shared amusement. A moment passed before Aurora sat her spoon down and looked at her.

“Are you still mad at me?” She asked Jane. “I guess I would understand. I thought about what you said, and I really should have known.” Her shoulders seemed to slump. “I just wanted to show Tobias the good we could do, too. I’m tired of the back and forth competition, you know?”

“I’m not mad at you,” Jane said shortly, without missing a beat.

Aurora reeled from surprise. “Wait - you’re not?”

Jane shook her head in response. “I was angry at the game, sure. Tobias stole the one real chance I thought I had at saving Edenbrook - at saving our jobs.” Jane paused, looking into Aurora’s wide brown eyes. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, though. You are my friend, Aurora, even if you chose to wear Mass Kenmore on your coat.”

Even though she tried to hide it by looking down, Jane could tell Aurora was fighting back a grin.

“Besides,” Jane started, smirking, “we did beat you at softball.”

Aurora scoffed, though nothing but good-natured humor glistened in her eyes. “You got lucky.”

“Yeah? Well, we’ll see next year,” Jane teased.

They shared a smile before her eyes were drawn toward the sound of her pager, ringing from her jacket that was strewn across the couch.

Aurora sighed, allowing an apologetic smile to creep onto her lips, “I’m sorry, guys.”

Sienna walked over to her, taking the spoon and the bowl of half-made blueberry sauce. “Don’t worry about it. Duty calls.”

Aurora threw one last look at Jane, a shy smile playing on her lips, before jogging out of the kitchen.

Jane looked at Sienna with a smile. “I’m sure Jackie and Elijah will be here soon. Where’d they go, anyway?”

“I think they both went to the hospital.”

“Of course they did,” Jane replied. She cracked an egg before noting, “We haven’t spent time alone together in awhile.”

They were the only two in the kitchen now. With the smell of coffee in the air and the warmth of the sun on her back, Jane felt content just for a moment. Just for a moment, she didn’t think of Ethan, or of the clinic, or of Edenbrook. Just for a moment, she was happy, mixing her pancake batter and watching Sienna remove bacon from the fridge.

“I suppose we haven’t,” Sienna replied.

The two finished making breakfast with light and hearty conversation, eventually carrying their plates and cups of coffee to the table. They sat across from each other; Jane digging in nearly immediately to sate her growling stomach.

Sienna reached for the blueberry sauce, giving Jane a cautious look. “So, how are you after …?”

Jane didn’t respond for a moment. “How about we start with you?” She threw Sienna a suggestive smirk. “How’re you and Danny?”

“You’re deflecting.” Sienna laughed, drizzling the blueberries over her pancakes.

“Oh, good. It’s working, then?”

Sienna rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t wipe her smile from her face. “Danny and I are good,” she began. Though, her smile quickly gave way to a frown. “I haven’t been able to talk to him much, though.”

“Why?”

“I’ve just been really caught up … with work,” Sienna admitted. She busied herself with her food, ignoring Jane’s gaze, “It’s been hard to do much of anything these days.”

Jane nodded in agreement. “But … does this have anything to do with Mitch?” When she didn’t get a response, Jane warned, “Sienna.”

Sighing, Sienna finally confessed, “Okay. Maybe Mitch isn’t necessarily helping.”

“Is he still making you do his work for him?”

“No,” Sienna countered. Jane gave her a look, and she sighed once more. “It’s just, he keeps asking me to handle patients for him, especially if it’s a harder case.”

Jane frowned. “Sienna, you can’t keep doing things for him.”

“I know,” she replied. She looked as if she wanted to talk about literally anything else, so she asked, “How are things with Esme?”

At the sound of her intern's name, Jane looked down. After a moment’s hesitation, she answered. “Sometimes I feel like I should be there more. It’s just - between the clinic and the team, I feel like I’m not being there for her.”

Jane didn’t have to say it, but Sienna knew what she was thinking. Maybe Victoria was right.

Sienna frowned. “Jane, I know you’re a good teacher. I saw you the other day - talking to Esme in the cafeteria. You are there for her.” Jane tried to believe her, but she still felt the weight of guilt on her shoulders. Sienna must have noticed because her gaze turned serious. “Don’t let Dr. Robbins make you question yourself, Jane. Don’t let her make you question anything.”

When Jane returned her gaze, she knew Sienna was talking about something else entirely. She was talking about Ethan.

“What happened anyway?” Sienna asked.

Jane exhaled deeply before deciding it best to let it out. So, she did. She told Sienna exactly what happened between her and Ethan in the hallway the day before. Jane had gone over the argument in her head for a good portion of the night, so it was fairly fresh in her mind. It didn’t, however, stop the wave of pain she felt when she finished,

“Wow,” Sienna commented. Jane nodded, poking at her pancakes in silence. “Has he tried to call you?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t answer?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Sienna studied her for a moment. “Do you miss him?”

Jane thought of him for longer than she dared to since their conversation in the hallway. For a moment, her guarded expressions and practiced smiles gave way to her true emotions. She thought of his eyes, his hair, and his scent. Him. Ethan. If she were being honest, everything about him was almost too intoxicating; yet, she loved him anyway.

“I do,” she finally admitted. “I just don’t know what to say. I know I’ll see him at hospital tomorrow, and I know I should answer. It’s just … how do you not have that kind of conversation face-to-face?”

“You don’t,” Sienna answered easily. Jane didn’t try to hide her disappointment, and Sienna added, “You know, Wayne and I never argued, not like that. We never really talked long enough to argue.” Jane looked at her, and Sienna gave her a meaningful look. “Only two people who really care about each other argue like that.”

Jane furrowed her eyebrows thoughtfully; she hadn’t thought about it in that way. She swallowed hard before looking at Sienna gratefully. “Thank you.”

“I’ll always be here, Jane,” She reassured. “You’re allowed to have time to think about your own feelings. Besides, what is meant to happen, will happen.”

Jane looked at her for a moment before a teasing smile crept onto her face. “When did you get so good at talking about relationships?”

“I’m always good at talking about everything,” Sienna countered.

A laugh escaped both of their lips as they returned to their breakfast, exchanging teasing remarks and light jokes until Jackie and Elijah came through the front door.

~

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Sienna asked.

Jane stood a few feet from their front door, watching as her roommates hesitated in the threshold. “I’m positive. You guys go. Have fun before it gets too late.”

Despite their protests, Jane eventually shooed them out of their apartment and on their way to Donahue’s. She told them, and herself, she wasn’t going because she wanted to study up for the team’s newest patient, but, admittedly, she wanted to be on the other side of the door in case Ethan ever decided to knock on it.

She padded over to the couch and flopped down, turning on a movie as the sudden patter of rain began to sound outside. Ethan had called again, only thirty minutes before. Her eyes peered down at his name, and her thumb hovered over, and darted away from, his contact several times.

Her desire to return his call slowly began burning in the pit of her stomach as she thought of the sound of his voice. Thunder rumbled overhead, and the rain intensified. For a moment, her eyes flickered toward the windows as a streak of lightning pierced the sky and drenched the living room in a brief, but bright, shade of blue.

The sound of the harsh rain lulled her desire, and she slowly reached forward to place her phone on the table in front of her. She almost settled in to watch her movie when a knock sounded, sending her heart plummeting into her stomach. Frozen, she sat there until another knock sounded - more insistent this time.

Before she lost her nerve, she stood and hurried over to the door. But, when she opened it, her face fell.

“Farley,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Swallowing hard, she crossed her arms and looked up at her landlord. “What is it now? Did another check bounce?”

“No.” He mirrored her, crossing his own arms. “Mrs. Edelstein complained again about too much … activity going on in your apartment late at night.”

Jane’s eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, and she scoffed. “She does realize that there are five interns that live here, right?”

Farley rolled his eyes. “Look, I don’t know. Just … try to keep it down. I don’t need Mrs. Edelstein calling my phone again.”

He didn’t bother to wait for her reply. Instead, he sulked off down the hallway, and Jane huffed before closing the door. She hadn’t yet stepped any more than two steps away before another knock sounded. Out of annoyance, she turned to fling the door open. But, every inch of her froze and her lips parted slightly as she looked up at the man in front of her.

“Ethan?” She breathed. “What are you doing here?”

He stood there – hair dripping wet and clinging to his forehead – with a look on his face that resembled a painful mix of longing and sorrow. Jane stared up at him as if he were a dream, like Sienna would pinch her awake at any moment.

But this wasn’t a dream, and Ethan was really here. He was here, standing with a green, rain-slicked jacket and fresh rain drops slipping down the sides of his face. The subtle shiver that raked his body was enough to make her snap out of her trance and quickly step aside, opening the door a bit wider.

He huddled inside, running a hand through his wet hair in an attempt to slick it back and out of his face. Jane slowly shut the door as if too much noise might ruin the moment – as if making any sudden movements might wreck the delicate tension between the two of them. 

So, she closed the door, as quietly as she could, and waited a beat to turn around. She knew that facing him right now, in this moment, would be enough to make every word die on her lips.

And she was right.

The moment she turned around, her eyes met his, and every angry thought, hurt feeling, and painful disbelief made her choke on any word that dared escape her lips.