#i want to tuck her into a nice cozy bed and tell her she’s ok

[bardace]

Inktober day 7: Drip

drip is a really funny word and I could’ve made a funny drawing but then I remembered sayaka miki. oughhhhh I’m not okay about her.

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

Sunshine and Moonshine: Chapter 25: Untimely Confessions

(Read on ao3)

Luna and Simón finished the pizza in her room. They laughed and talked about everything they could think of. 

Luna grabbed her tissues to wipe her fingers so she wouldn’t make her whole bed sticky with pizza.

“Wait,” Simón said, “Stand up and we’ll shake your sheets so we know there’s no crumbs left.”

“That’s so smart!”

Simón grabbed her sheets and shook them off, and then he gently remade her bed.

“Now for the princess!”

“Is the princess me?” Luna asked.

“Yes, the princess of this bed.”

“I’m the pillow princess!”

Simón for whatever reason started to burst out laughing as he heard Luna say that.

“What?” she asked, genuinely confused why he found that so funny.

“Nothing, nothing… please lie down.”

Luna laid down in her bed, and Simón gently tucked her in.

“Wow, you look really cozy!” he said.

“I do feel really cozy!” she replied, giggling.

“I better go,” Simón said. “It was nice hanging with you, though.”

“Yeah!”

Luna felt like there were butterflies fluttering inside of her as she watched him leave.

She was kinda weirded out by it.

-

When you were Rey, you kinda had to be a hacker if you wanted to do your job properly. 

“Here you go, miss Benson.”

Sharon started going through Ámbar’s entire phone. Pictures… although there was no real suspicious picture she had taken. Search history… which were 80% just roller skate related or “what is this word in french?” questions. The rest seemed to either be definitions of other words or news sites she had flickered through.

She was uninterested in Ámbar’s social media. Mostly because she didn’t have any herself, so she did not see the point of it. Besides, it just seemed to be videos of makeup and roller skating, and selfies of Ámbar and her friends. 

(It was lucky she never even saw the tumblr app. Ámbar had hid it in a folder so no one could see it on her homepage. Sharon did not know how much Ámbar had trauma-dumped on that site… even if she never had said Sharon’s name)

But then Sharon reached her texts. She went through Delfi and Jazmin’s texts quickly. Ámbar seemed to just write “ok” or “yes”, “no”, or at some points do a thumbs up emoji, while Delfi and Jazmin did most of the talking in the texts. 

She was a bit hesitant to see what she discussed with Luna. But that seemed to still be your average texts. “Where are you?”, “We’re gonna be late, hurry up!”, that sort of thing. This was mostly because Luna and Ámbar knew that it was risky talking about heavier stuff on the phone, and if they ever needed to, they talked on their social media where they had turned off notifications.

There were other people that Sharon didn’t know the name of. But then, Emilia… Sharon sat down and scrolled up, wanting to read everything that Ámbar talked about with her.

“What does it say?” Rey asked.

Sharon seemed to grow slightly uncomfortable. 

“Miss Benson?”

She gave Rey the phone. “I don’t like these texts.”

“How come? Were they being harmful?”

She shook her head. “It’s just… I feel like the Ámbar writing in those texts, it’s not the girl I raised.”

“Well, to be fair, people often act differently towards their friends than their parents. Not that you’re Ámbar’s parent, of course,” He gave a slight chuckle.

Sharon turned to him. “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out.”

“Ok, but… Ámbar’s phone-”

“Leave it in her room!”

“But Miss Benson-”

“She’s asleep, Rey, she won’t know!”

As Rey left, Sharon pressed her hand on her forehead. She thought about what was said in those texts… 

She tried to figure out what was wrong with it. 

It was just… everything. The way Ámbar seemed to be so open with her. The way they spoke in a more vulgar language… 

And how it seemed like Ámbar was very interested in this girl. Sharon could tell she tried hiding it, but it slipped through in the text. She had been smitten with her.

But didn’t Ámbar have a boyfriend? Sharon recalled very vividly catching her and him in her room. 

Although, she remembered Ámbar mentioning something about them breaking up…

She really needed to confront Ámbar about it. And quick.

-

Jim stretched her arms. She looked at Yam. Yam slowly woke up as well.

“For how long did we sleep?” Jim asked.

“I don’t know,” Yam admitted. “But it was nice…” 

Jim frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like that. Like you… know something.”

Yam immediately tried to change her facial expression. “Uh… no, nothing, I… I think I heard you sleep talk?”

Jim seemed to get some more color on her face. “Oh… uh… what did I… what did I say?”

“I thought you said my name. Was I in your dream?”

“Well, I… I don’t remember! I mean, it makes sense, we have been hanging out all day!”

“Yeah… yeah…” 

“Did you hear me say anything else?”

Yam didn’t know why she didn’t tell the full truth, but she didn’t. “No. Not that I remember.”

“Ok…”

They were quiet for a moment.

“So I should probably head back home,” Yam said. “My mom is coming home at any moment, and she’s gonna think I skipped school.”

“Haha. Yeah, go home.”

Yam kissed her on the cheek. “Bye!”

As Yam got home, she noticed the front door was opened. Oh no, she hoped her mom hadn’t come home yet…

Instead, it was her 12 year old brother David. He was playing video games in the living room.

“Hi,” he said. “Woah, you look sick!”

“I am sick,” Yam said, “I stayed home from school today.”

“So why were you out?” 

“I just… took a walk. It was boring staying home.”

David smirked. “Or maybe you have a secret boyfriend that you went to meet!”

Yam rolled her eyes. “Oh, sweet brother…”

“What?”

“If only you knew me better…”

“What do you mean?” David had to pause his game.

Yam just shrugged. “I’ll tell you one day.”

“About your secret boyfriend?”

“No. About who I really am.”

With that, she left him with a question mark on his face.

Julia came home a while after Yam had left the house. She immediately went to check on Jim.

“Hey… how’s the sick girl?”

“I’m fine.”

“Did Yam go home?”

“Yeah.”

Julia leaned against the wall. “So… what did you do?”

“We watched TV and then we took a nap.”

“Ooh, cozy!” Julia then scanned Jim’s facial expression. “What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing.”

“Sis. I know your facial expressions outside and in.”

“Well, I… I had a weird dream, and I’m scared Yam heard me sleep talk.”

“Ooh… What did you dream about?”

Jim just stared down on the floor.

“Jimena… tell me right now… I wanna hear your dream.”

She sat down next to her. Jim took a deep breath.

“I dreamt… that me and Yam were sitting under a tree in a park. We just… watched the clouds. It was cozy. And then Yam looked at me and smiled… and she touched my leg.” Jim touched her own leg as if somehow visualize how it looked. “And it felt… so good . Like I got this electric feeling inside.”

“Ooh…” Julia hummed in a flirtatious tone. 

“Yeah, and I… in the dream that is, just gazed into her eyes and told her… I loved her.”

“Aww!”

“Yeah. And now I’m confused.”

“What are you confused about?”

“Well, that I had a romantic dream about her? And what if I talked in my sleep and she heard?”

Julia chuckled. “Jimmy, if I’m being honest… I thought you were already kind of dating.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah. I thought you simply weren’t ready to tell anyone yet, but I’ve noticed.”

“How long have you thought this?!”

“Well… since a year or so back.”

Jim shook her head. “We’re not… and I’m not a lesbian, either.”

“You could be bisexual.”

“No, I’m not, because I’ve never been in love with a boy.”

Julia formed a smug face. Jim suddenly realized what she said.

“I’ve never been in love with a boy. I’ve never… I’ve always wanted to be in love with a boy. But I’ve never actually had. I thought I had crushes, but what if… I just liked the idea of them.”

“I don’t know. How do you feel about girls?”

“I… have never thought about it. I’ve never considered it.”

“How does Yam feel?”

“She’s…” Jim was about to say Yam likes boys, but she realized she never actually asked her. Yam had never mentioned any boy, besides if anyone else didn’t ask first. Jim looked at her sister with large eyes. “I don’t know how Yam feels. I don’t know how I feel.”

Julia hugged her. “Oh, hermanita… want my help to figure out a plan on how to figure it all out?”

“Will it work?”

“I’m as unsure as I am about you possibly being switched at birth, but let’s try.”

-

The next day, both Luna and Ámbar felt all better. They still had some coughs, but it was not at all so bad.

“It’s such wonderful weather outside!” Luna exclaimed at breakfast. “I wanna make up for yesterday and go roller skating today.”

“No,” Sharon said. 

“Why no? Me roller skating does not affect you at all.”

“Because it’s not a good day for you to do physical activity.”

Luna smiled. “I think it’s a myth that you shouldn’t do physical activity on the first day of your period. But I’m not even on my period, anyway.”

“I know.” How Sharon kept track of her niece’s menstrual cycle, no one really wanted to know. Luna never told her when she had it, but maybe Sharon had ways of knowing. “I’m referring to the fact that you were sick yesterday,” she continued.

“So?” Luna asked, “I’m all better today. And I get so unfocused and distracted if I don’t get some exercise!”

“Answer is still no. You’re lucky it’s Saturday, so you can properly rest up before Monday.”

“So we should just be inside all weekend?” Ámbar asked. 

“Preferably, yes.”

The girls sighed.

Ámbar noticed Sharon was staring at her. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Sharon replied.

“Ok… you’re just… staring at me weirdly.”

“I just… want to ask you something.”

“What?”

“Are you still broken up with your boyfriend?”

Ámbar frowned. “Uh… well… yes. Yes, we’re broken up. We’re not together anymore. It’s the end.”

Sharon nodded. “And you’re not seeing anyone else?”

“Why are you asking this?”

“Just answer.”

“No… no, I’m… single…”

Sharon turned her head. “How about you, Luna?”

“Me?” Luna was not prepared for this. 

“Yes, are you dating anyone?” Sharon did not seem as interested, but it was like she didn’t want to make it obvious this was mostly about Ámbar. 

“No… never.”

“Good to hear. Continue like that. And don’t kiss your friends like I heard you did again. That can give you bad rumors.”

The people Luna hung out with wouldn’t give her bad rumors if she kissed her friends, but Luna just nodded.

“Can I at least be in the garden?” Luna asked. “I need some fresh air.”

“Alright. But I don’t want you getting more sick again.”

Ámbar stood up.

“Where are you going, Ámbar?” Sharon asked.

“I’m done with breakfast… I’m going to my room…”

Sharon nodded. “Good. Then I know where you are.”

“You’re odd today, madrina.”

-

Ámbar sat down at her mirror table. She decided to check her phone. Maybe read some more of those fanfictions… 

Then Emilia texted her. She smiled even before she read it.

Emilia: Still sick?

Ámbar: Not really. I still need to be kept inside. 

Emilia: Why?

Ámbar: Don’t know, madrina is weird

Emilia: Is she like running secret tests on you on something?

Ámbar giggled. Oh, Emilia could be so silly.

Ámbar: Seems like it sometimes. 

Emilia: Anyway to make you not so bored, here’s a video of me skating. 

She sent a video the next second. Ámbar pressed play and immediately felt her butterflies grow stronger as she watched Emilia skate. Emilia had chosen short, black shorts, and her shirt was short enough to reveal her belly, but still covered a large portion of her upper half. It was like a long crop top. 

A sexy long crop top…

As Emilia skated around, Ámbar couldn’t help but pay attention to her hip movements. She was happy she was just watching a video in the comfort of her bedroom and not right there. Or else Emilia would ask why she was staring so intensely at her. 

Ámbar: Nice!

That was the least it was…

”Oh, Emilia…” Ámbar let herself mumble, as she bit her lip.

Sharon walked back and forth in the hallway. 

”Is something wrong, Miss Benson?” Rey asked.

”I need to speak to Ámbar,” Sharon said, ”But I need to prepare what I need to say.”

”You seem… nervous…”

”I’m not! I just… need to prepare to have a certain talk with her that I never assumed I’d need to have.”

”May I ask what it is about?”

Sharon glared at him, her eyebrows almost making her eyes pop out. 

”No. It’s a delicate matter. Leave, Rey.”

Rey seemed hesitant, but nodded. ”As you wish, Miss Benson.”

Sharon took a deep breath, and walked up to Ámbar’s room.

She knocked, and then immediately went inside. 

”Madrina…?” Ámbar looked at her curiously.

”I need to speak with you.”

”Ok.” 

Sharon gazed at her eyes. Ámbar had those doe eyes she always had. She was just a little child… did she even know herself?

”I…” Sharon pandered around the room until she placed herself right in front of Ámbar. ”I’ve noticed… a certain behavior with you.”

”Ok?”

”I’ve noticed you’ve seemed to have some… intimate interactions with girls.”

Ámbar felt like her heart was gonna fall out. ”Uh- how- what?”

”You can’t hide anything from me, Ámbar. And I need to know if you feel any sort of attraction… towards girls.”

Ámbar just stared at her.

”Do you? Answer me, and don’t lie.”

Ámbar slowly nodded. ”I… I do. Yes.”

She wasn’t planning on just telling it like this. She was barely coming to terms with it herself. But… she did know she felt an attraction to girls. It was pretty obvious. 

Sharon was silent for a long while. Ámbar wasn’t sure what she would do with this information. She grew more anxious about it by the second. 

Finally, Sharon opened her mouth. 

”Very well.”

And with that, she walked out of the room and closed the door.

Ámbar just kept sitting on her chair, trying to process what just occurred. 

-

The end scene is a scene I’ve been wanting to do since the beginning. I didn’t know when exactly to put it in, but it felt perfect right now.

[eupheme]

Beck and Call

Masterlist

Alfred Pennyworth x F!Reader

Rated E - 1.2k words

Tags- established relationship, lewd photos, phone sex, mutual mast., fingering, references to PiV and oral

Summary: Maybe his texting needs a little work, but Alfred makes up for it in plenty of other ways.

You tap send, the photo and a message reading “thinking of you” whisking away on your phone, the light illuminating your face as you wait, curled up on your bed.

It’s mid-day - the curtains pulled shut, the lights turned off until your room is cave-like. Comfortable, cozy, though it does nothing to sooth the hot itch under your skin.

Delivered, but not read.

You scroll while you wait, rereading messages you sent to him. Cute photos you collect throughout the day, links to short videos that make you laugh.

Alfred’s responses, unintentionally humorous in their delivery.

Funny… Who is that?

I follow her online, her name is Zatanna.

Oh. Is she your friend?

No, babe. She’s a influencer.

OK

He prefers to call over text, though he admits there’s something nice about being able to send a quick message when you’ve both busy. But there’s always a call in the evening, so you can drift off to sleep with a gentle “good night, dove”, wrapped around you like a blanket.

And now he’s right on cue, with the vibration of an incoming call.

“Hello,” you answer cheerfully, tucking your phone against your ear, your fingers free to drift down over bare skin, between the valley of your breasts, down over your stomach.

“Darling,” He responds, his voice low, quiet. “What was that?”

Your hand drifts lower, “It’s me, love.”

He exhales a rough breath, “Yes, I know. I’d know you anywhere, what are you doing?”

Fingers reach their mark, curving over your mound so you can part yourself, feeling your hot, slicked folds. You bite back a moan, though he can still hear the soft sound, “I told you, I’m thinking about you.”

“I’m-, hold on.” He starts, but then it goes quiet, the sound of one door, and then another, opening and then shutting. A low click, “Sorry. I’ve been thinking about you, too. We’re still on for tonight, right?”

“Yes, but I didn’t want to wait. I starting thinking about later, and…” You let the words drift off, thinking about the photo you sent - your shirt tugged up, the soft swells of your breasts as a hand cups one. The tight peaks of your nipples, inches of bare stomach visible below.

You can almost hear the wheels turning from here.

“I have a few things to wrap up at work. Do you want me to come over after?” He offers, and you piece the puzzle together.

He’s away at the office, where he fills in for Bruce sometimes. You wonder where exactly he was when he got the message. Wonder if anyone has ever sent him a photo like this before, or if you were the first.

“You could,” you murmur, fingers dipping down, the tips gathering slick before they trace back up, teasing at your clit as you sigh. “Or you could tell me what you’d do to me if you were here.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, of understanding - the phone crackling in your ear.

“Darling, are you touching yourself?” He asks hesitantly, as if he doesn’t want to be wrong.

You hum a soft affirmative.

“Christ.” He grits out, and there’s soft noises layered with the word, a muted shuffle, “I thought you had taken it earlier, I wasn’t-”

“Oh no, it was now.” You hum, his words make you smile, “Hold on, just a second.”

You grasp for your phone, flipping the bedside light on, bathing you in a soft glow. The camera angles lower this time, down to where your palm curves over your cunt, panties tugged down, index and middle fingers bent to rub at your clit.

Picking the best one, you send it off. There’s a broken groan a few moments later, when your phone is tucked by your ear again.

“You are going to kill me, dove.” He breathes the words out, a soft reverence tinting them.

“Tell me.” You coax, “What would you do? I want to hear your voice when I come.”

And now, with your pretty little beg, you know he will.

“Right now?” He groans, “I’d flip you over on your hands and knees, with your perfect ass in the air. See if you’re a wet as you look.”

“Yeah?” You whine, your fingers circling, eyes drifting shut as you concentrate on his words.

He groans an affirmative, “Fuck you with my tongue, and then make you come on my cock.”

“Fuck.” You bite the word out, your hips arching into your hand, fingers circling harder.

“Are you rubbing your clit, dove? Tell me what you are doing.”

“Mhmm,” you sigh, fingers dipping down, parting slick folds, gathering more of your arousal on your fingertips to rub against your clit. “It feels so good, I’m so wet right now.”

“Good girl.” His breathing feels loud, ragged, with him pressed this close to your ear, “Let me hear how soaked you are, sweetheart.”

You gasp, reaching so you can press two fingers against your entrance, where they sink in easily. The sounds are loud, lewd - each pump of your fingers a wet squelch, as turned on as you are.

“Fuck, just listen to you.” The words are ground out, “You don’t even know the things you do to me, dove.”

“Like what?” Your fingers pump again, as deep as you can reach, but it’s not enough.

There a low gasp, a groan that shoots straight to your cunt, “You have me so hard that I’m stroking my cock in the middle of the day. Haven’t done this in years.”

“Fuck, baby. Where are you?” You breathe, trying to imagine him at the office, where he’s talking to you.

“Bathroom. The private one in our office.” There’s a hitch to his breath, a faint shuffling rhythm soft in the background, the sound of a hand on skin.

Your eyes close as you imagine him - belt undone, heavy in his own hand as he flicks his wrist, moving his fist over his aching cock. It makes you clench, fingers pulling out to rub circles on your clit again, heat pooling in your belly.

“I want you to fuck me so bad.” You admit, your arousal making you brave, your lips loose, “I wish it was your fingers instead of mine.”

“I know darling, me too.” He answers with a low moan, “Can you pretend for me? That they’re mine, touching your sweet cunt and tits, okay?”

“Okay.” Your head tilts, phone resting against your ear as your other hand comes up to tease at your nipple, pinching and tugging. The hand between your legs moves faster, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards the peak.

“Just pretend love, and when I get there I’ll fuck you proper.” His words are jagged, paired with heavy breaths that match yours.

Listening to each other, the wet circle of your fingers, the tight stroke of his fist. Imagining him hovering over you, jerking himself off to the sight of you - how pretty you look - instead of just your voice in the cold, sterile bathroom.

“Alfred,” his name is a whimper on your lips, “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

“I’m close too, darling. I want you to come for me, okay? Give me every little sound.” His voice drops, a commanding edge to it, and that is all it takes.

Your vision seems to go white at the edges, your hips bucking against your fingers as your body goes tight - his name breaking on your lips as you cry out. Finger circle, drawing out the pleasure as long as you can, your breath catching in your throat, your moans turning into a sharp gasp.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You sound so pretty when you come.” He grits out, before you hear a long, drawn out groan - the sound right in your ear as your eyes drift closed, enjoying the sweet aftermath as you catch your breath.

There’s a soft silence as you picture him, phone pressed to his ear, head tilted back as he thinks about coming on you, in you, eyes opening to see the mess he’s made across the counter instead.

“Stay just like you are.” You hear the words through your cozy fog, blinking as you take them in.

Your words come out sleepy, content, “I thought you had to finish up at work.”

“I rescheduled my afternoon, after your second photo.” He admits slowly, and you can’t help but smile, “Seeing as something’s come up that requires my immediate attention.”

“Well, come on over.” You arms stretch lazily over your head, and you settle in.

“I’ll be waiting.”

[thehistoriangirl]

Ok ok so I LOVE IT OML it is so moving and beautiful 🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭 but I’m still confused why the reader didn’t have the soulmate dreams?

Yaaaay!, I'm so happy you like it ;-; About your question: it's a✨plothole✨

I'm joking jksjhdhgdh the reality it's that I'm a lil dumb and after the rewriting, I left out a Viktor POV info, where he and Jayce talk about it just before the beginning of the Reader's POV (mostly because was the only third person POV, and because it was too much exposition) .

Short answer: in this fic, the Arcane mage rescued baby Jayce and his mother from freezing to death, but not soon enough for Jayce to take part in an almost-death experience. So in theory he "died" but then the mage revived them.

Long, unedited answer: [This is the part that didn't make it into the fic]

Tags (I guess(?): Mentions of almost death experience| exposition dialogue| Viktor and Jayce being besties| use of y/n| 1K| SFW

Viktor was already tucked in bed with a book over his lap when someone knocked on his door for approximately a minute non-stop. Glancing at the clock hung in at one side of his bed, he verified it was too late to be about some unimportant matter.

The person at the other side banged with more effusitivy while he put on his back brace and looked around for his cane. He hoped no one of his neighbors would go out to complain about the noise.

He opened the door when Jayce was about to knock for third time.

“Viktor! Thanks Janna you’re awake.”

“I would’ve surely woken up for such cacophony otherwise.” He arched his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

Jayce looked sweaty, with red cheeks and uneven breathing that hinted he came here running, probably. His gala clothes were covered in wrinkles, dark boots full of dirt. Viktor opened the door a little bit more and gestured him to enter.

“It’s y/n,” he exhaled, going directly at the sofa put against one wall in the living room. His hands covered his entire face. “I lost her.”

“What do you mean, ‘Lost her’?” Viktor’s eyes widened, following his partner’s steps and collapsing in the sofa, next to him. “Please, tell me that you don’t tell—”

“No, Vik. I didn’t even have to time to ask her directly.” The other groaned. “We were in that nice café, the one you recommended it would look cozy.” Viktor removed awkwardly in his seat. “She met some acquaintances and they begun to ask her about her soulmate. They told her if I was her soulmate…” His voice trailed off, and Viktor saw his cheeks painted in red even he shook his head. “But then she ran away into the night! I tried to follow her, but I couldn’t find her.”

Viktor had his lips pressed together. “You don’t want me to go with you to look for her, do you?”

“Of course not. I think she went to her apartment or whenever she’s staying, but I don’t know where that is.”

He nodded, then Jayce was here simply seeking emotional support.

“Well, it wasn’t certainly the best date…” Jayce glare made him clear his throat. “But that doesn’t explain why she ran away when someone mentioned the soulmates.”

The so-called Golden Boy rubbed his hands against his eyes. “She hates me. Since we first met yesterday, she loathed me, isn’t it? That’s why she fled as fast as she could when they mentioned I’m her soulmate.”

He extended his hand to stop him to blabbering out again. “If she hated you, she wouldn’t have gone out with you tonight.” His right cheek rested against his hand. “It’s something else.”

“Something else? And what that could be?”

“Well, it’s evident that the whole soulmates’ subject is a delicate theme for her. Hence, it has to be linked to it somehow, but not with you being a direct responsible.”

“But how it can be linked with the soulmates and not with me—” Jayce was grimacing, but his eyes opened with a gasp. “Do you think…?”

“I think that since the first time you two saw each other, she didn’t look very moved to meet her soulmate.” He tried to muffle a snort. “Not like you, at least.”

Jayce hit him softly with his elbow, only resulting in Viktor blurted out in laugher. “I’m sorry. It was very amusing. Anyway— what I’m trying to say it’s that maybe she doesn’t know who you are. Who you are to her, I mean.”

“Then you’re saying…” Jayce clasped his hands together. “That y/n doesn’t know I’m her soulmate?”

Viktor nodded.

“But how’s that possible? Doesn’t she have the dreams?”

He shrugged, gently tapping the cane against the wooden floor. “When I was a student, I read a book of magical anomalies in the soulmates’ bond. Sometimes happen. It’s similar to when a person has two soulmates, or when one soulmate it’s replaced by another after their passing.”

“What did you say? Can soulmates be replaced?”

“Yes. But I said it’s an anomaly. Usually, when a person dies during the soulmates’ dreams, such omens disappear; if the person dies before, the other person can’t dream of them because they don’t exist anymore.”

A pause ruled over the living room for some seconds, before both Viktor and Jayce looked at each other with open mouths.

“…Oh…”, Viktor muttered

“…That’s it,” Jayce finished. “It’s because of that, isn’t it?”

Of course. Jayce only told him about his encounter with the mage after the Hextech discovery. How Jayce was such knowledgeable in magic without any close person being a mage? Because some anonymous mage saved him and his mother of dying crossing the Freljords.

“I don’t mean to sound harsh, but I’m assuming you should’ve been dead. That’s why Miss y/n can’t dream of you.”

“Yes! It does have a lot of sense! We cheated death with the Arcane and the mage’s help. And the dreams don’t affect me because she’d had a normal life without near-death accidents.” His animated tone calmed down when he rubbed his temples. “But that doesn’t help me with how I’m going to tell her about… our bond.”

Viktor gestured with the handle of his cane. “Well, I’m venturing her life it’s going to become a bit anormal from now on.” He leaned against the sofa to pat him in the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out.”

He used the cane to propel himself up. “You should rest now; you have a Council meeting tomorrow.”

Jayce sighed. “I almost forgot about it. I wanted to check on y/n tomorrow’s morning…”

“It’s good you can’t,” Viktor answered on his way to his bedroom. Inside, he searched for his spare blankets and a couple of pillows. Re-emerging, he threw them at Jayce. “Imagine how embarrassed she should be feeling. I think last thing she wants to see, it’s you waiting for her in front of Heimerdinger’s lab.”

Jayce looked at him with a sad pout.

Viktor held his gaze for a couple of seconds, until he had to avert his eyes. Raising both hands, he sighed. “Alright, I will check on her in the morning.” He gave Jayce his back. “Turn off the lights when you’re ready. Goodnight, Jayce.”

“Thanks, Vik. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

That made him stop when he was crossing the door threshold, an obscure feeling knotting in his stomach. “You would manage just fine,” he muttered, sure that Jayce couldn’t hear it.

[fjoresterthoughts]

It calls me

@fjoresterweek 2021 - Day 4: Modern AU

[AO3]

Jester wakes up to her shoulder being shaken, and all she wants to do is push her face further into the pillow. She can feel the cooler air outside of her warm blankets, and the thought of leaving the cozy warmth is incredibly unappealing.

“Jessie, wake up.” she hears Beau whisper, and Jester finally opens her eyes. The room is surprisingly light, and for a minute she worries she overslept - but the clock beside her bed says it's still very early. 

“What’s up?” she mumbles in response, still incredibly sleepy.

“School’s cancelled. They called a snow day.” Beau says, and Jester shoots up.

“Really??” She exclaims as she runs to the window of their shared bedroom, and sure enough, the snow that started last night had continued heavily all through last night, and had no sign of stopping. The sun wasn’t quite up, but the white of the snow gave everything a soft brightness, including their room. 

Beau grins. “Yeah, I was really hoping they would. I do not want to go to my morning classes in this.”

“Beau, you never want to go to your morning classes.” Jester says, and checks her phone for the cancellation confirmation emails from her professors. 

“True.” Beau confirms as she searches her side of the room for a pair of socks.

Jester pulls her pair of unicorn slippers from underneath her bed. “Let’s go tell Fjord!”

“Shouldn’t we let him just sleep in?”

Jester shakes her head, already heading to the door. “No, he’ll freak out and think he missed his class. Besides, I’m too excited and I wanna tell him.”

Beau and Jester step out the door of their shared room, and walk down the hallway of their apartment to Fjord’s room. They had gotten a two bedroom apartment near campus at the start of the school year, and it had been the best. The three of them met during orientation and had stuck close together ever since. 

Jester knocked gently and pushed the door open to Fjord’s room, who was still fast asleep in bed. His room is much smaller - barely any room for his twin sized bed, his little desk, and a dresser. With Beau and Jester sharing a room and needing space for two beds, they had taken the larger one.

“He looks like a supermodel even when he sleeps, it’s not fair.” Jester whispers to Beau, who just laughs.

This makes Fjord stir, and as he’s slowly opening his eyes, Jester practically jumps on his bed, with Beau following.

“It’s a snow day!! It’s a snow day!!” Jester cheers, and Fjord groans and flops back down after the initial shock.

“For real?”

Beau holds her phone up to Fjord’s face. “Yeah, check it out!”

Fjord looks, and then smirks. “Oh, nice. Also a text from Yasha came down when you were showing me the email.”

Beau pulls her phone back quickly and Jester screeches, trying to wrestle the phone to see.

“Ooooh, what did she say, Beau?”

Beau jumps off the bed. “Fuck off!”

“Fjord! You saw it! What did it say?” Jester asks, still sitting on Fjord’s bed but watching Beau with intent.

Beau turns and walks out of the room. “Fuck you guys, I’m making coffee!”

“Can you make me some too?” Fjord calls out to her, and she affirms but grumbles something about him not deserving it.

Fjord gives a knowing smile to Jester. “I have a feeling that Beau’s not going to spend her snow day with us.”

She grins and wiggles her eyebrows. “She’s gonna spend it with Yasha?”

Fjord makes the same expression back at her, and then starts to get out of his bed. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom before Beau claims it.”

-

Beau does in fact, eagerly take up Yasha’s offer to spend their snow day together, leaving Fjord and Jester in the apartment by themselves with nowhere to be. Jester makes a suggestive joke about her and Yasha staying warm, and when Beau throws one back at her and Fjord, she blushes and is incredibly grateful Fjord is out of earshot.

Jester insists that her and Fjord start their day off by making snow angels and playing in the snow. With them both being west coast kids, neither of them got to do this as children very often. After Jester’s fourth snow angel, she reaches her hands up to ask Fjord to help her up, but instead purposely pulls him down into the snow and their snowfight commences. It mostly consists of snowballs, but tackling is fair game and Jester eventually wins when she makes a running jump onto Fjord’s back, knocking them both to the ground and he falls face first into a snowdrift. Shivering, and with their fair share of snow down their shirts and backs, they finally decide it’s time to go inside and change into warm and dry clothes. 

Breakfast comes next, and it’s the perfect day for pancakes and hot chocolate. Jester would argue that every day is good for pancakes and hot chocolate, but there is something special about a gigantic stack of decked out pancakes and extra marshmallows in your mug on a snow day. 

“Fjord,” Jester starts, biting into the very last of her pancakes, “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure. Can I take a shower first though? I’m still kinda cold from the snow you put down my shirt.” He replies, and takes their dishes and puts them in the sink.

“Of course! I might take one too, I think my hair is a little frozen.”

Fjord interrupts her before she can continue. “Dibs on having a shower first! I don’t want you to steal all the hot water.”

Jester laughs and calls out to him as he walks down the hall. “Think about what movie you want to watch!”

-

After they both have their showers, Jester pulls the duvet from her bed onto the couch and grabs herself a bowl of caramel popcorn, much to Fjord’s dismay.

“Aren’t you still full from breakfast?”

Jester shrugs. “I mean, kinda, but I really wanted popcorn.” She tosses some into her mouth. “I’m assuming you don’t want any, then?”

Fjord shakes his head, and settles onto the couch under the blanket. “Nope! Besides, I wouldn’t have caramel. The original salt and butter is the way to go!” 

“Suit yourself! You’re missing out.”

Fjord turns to her and turns the TV on. “So, what movie do you want to watch?”

“Oh, I’m good with anything. You?”

“Is it weird if I say I want to watch something that takes place somewhere warm?”

Jester laughs. “Of course not!”

Fjord looks a little sheepish. “I just got warm again. I’m not as good against the cold as you.”

“Want to watch Moana?” Jester suggests with a smile. She knows it’s secretly one of Fjord’s favourite movies. 

He grins. “Always.”

They’ve both seen this movie a million times. They sing along to every song, Jester a bit louder than Fjord, and they quote the lines along. Fjord does end up stealing some of Jester’s popcorn, and Jester knows when in the movie to subtly pass tissues over to him because he always ends up getting choked up.

What Fjord doesn’t expect, is that Jester has slowly been inching closer to him. He’s not sure if she is doing it subconsciously or not, but he selfishly likes it. He knows he’s had a crush on Jester for ages, and isn’t entirely sure if she likes him back. Beau has called him out on it, getting tired of the underlying romantic tension, but he’s terrified that if she doesn’t like him back, he’ll ruin the entire house dynamic. He knows he needs to tell her. He’ll tell her at the end of this semester - that way if she doesn’t like him back, she has an easy out if she wants.  

“Fjord?” Jester quietly says, and Fjord forces his attention back to her and the movie.

“Yeah?”

She snuggles in closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I bet it would be fun to go wayfinding. Or even just sailing.”

Fjord raises an eyebrow at her. “Oh yeah?”

Jester hums. “I think it’d be fun. Maybe one day we could go.”

“Well, maybe eventually I can buy or rent a boat and we can sail our cares away. I’ve got some experience, I can show you the ropes.” He replies softly, almost wistfully.

He feels Jester smile against his shoulder. “I hope so. I’d really like that.”

She then pulls herself even closer by casually draping her legs across Fjord’s under the blanket, almost sitting in his lap. He pauses for just a moment before wrapping an arm around her, gently tucking her into his side and she happily melts right into him. His heart is fluttering about in his chest, and any thought of the outside cold is far, far away from his mind.

--

It’s much later in the afternoon when they’re working on their papers and readings in their respective rooms, and Fjord hears Jester bounding down the hallway, calling his name repeatedly and incessantly. Before he can even ask what’s up, she appears in his doorway.

“Fjord! You’re not doing anything for reading week, right?” She asks, almost breathlessly.

“Uhh, no? Probably just ending up being an awkward third wheel to Beau and Yasha when I’m not working, why?”

Jester is practically bouncing. “Wanna fly back home for the week? To the coast?”

“What?!” He says in absolute shock. “What do you mean, I don’t think I can afford-”

Jester interrupts him. “No, no! I was just talking to my dad, and…” She takes a breath. “So, after watching Moana I kinda missed home a bit? Like being by the ocean and beach? I mean this snow has been super fun and I love it, but I kinda miss home a bit, too, you know? So I’m on the phone with my dad and I told him I was maybe wondering about coming home for reading week in a month, and he offered to pay for my ticket! And THEN said I could bring a friend too if I wanted.”

Fjord’s shock has only grown. “That’s expensive! We can’t accept-” 

Jester cuts him off again, trying to calm him down. “It’s ok, it’s ok! One of the tickets is through his like, flying points! And he has to make up for all the birthdays and holidays he missed when he wasn’t around. Do you want to come? We’ll stay with my mom so we don’t have to worry about a place to stay.”

Fjord is truly stunned, still processing. “I mean, if he’s sure… that’s very generous of him.”

Jester jumps up, and throws her arms around his neck, giving him a little kiss on the cheek. “Wonderful! I’ll go let him know!”

Fjord blushes. “Thank you. For inviting me, and tell your dad I sincerely thank him.”

Jester beams, and starts singing “You're welcome!” as she walks down the hall back to her room. 

Fjord leans against his desk and places his head on his hands, still making sense of what just happened and what’s ahead of them. Jester’s (potentially) mob boss father just paid for their plane tickets to go home and they’ll be staying at Jester’s famous actress mother. But more importantly...

He’s going, with his crush, on a week’s trip back home with just the two of them. Who just gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

Surely everything will go just fine.

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Nine

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Chapter Summary:

Emily and JJ sleep together.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

Content warning: detailed descriptions of sickness, abortion mention.

—

Jennifer Jareau looked like a drowned rat.

A pretty, blonde, sniffly drowned rat that Emily Prentiss had a massive crush on. 

She was soaked head to toe, her running shoes muddy and her hair slicked to her skull. She was shivering and looking absolutely miserable. Over her shoulder was her blue duffel bag full of her soccer equipment. It was a Monday, so Emily knew JJ had a practice that afternoon. 

“Pen locked me out of our room,” JJ said without greeting as she walked into Emily’s room, “And I need a towel.”

“Hello to you too, Jayje,” Emily said sarcastically. 

She stepped back to let her friend enter, shivering at the thought of having to play soccer in the pouring rain, let alone a rainy November afternoon when the temperature was verging on freezing. Ever since the brutal storm on Halloween, the weather had been dreary and wet.

 Emily could see the field from her window, it was across the street by the Arts building. While she, and the rest of their friends, made a point to go to all of JJ’s games together and cheer her on, Emily was thankful that the weather had been ok so far, she wasn’t sure how much hypothermia she could handle for one girl. 

She grabbed her bath towel and tossed it JJ’s way, and opened her closet to find a cozy sweater to offer. Well, Emily thought, she probably would take hypothermia to support JJ, she just wouldn’t be happy about it. 

JJ was simultaneously drying her hair and rifling through her bag. She was still shivering from the cold.

“I left my keys when I ran out of my room this morning,” JJ explained, “And Pen promised she’d be here when it was over.”

“I think she’s teaching Hotch how to knit at his dorm,” Emily said with a laugh, having seen her Insta story a few minutes prior of Hotch struggling with his hands tangled in yarn. 

“Just wish she would’ve left the door unlocked,” JJ muttered, “I think I have my spare keys in here somewhere.”

“Here, take this,” Emily said, handing her a grey hoodie with “Oxford” written on the chest, a souvenir from when she lived in England. 

Emily turned around so JJ could at least get out of her wet shirt and into the sweater. For a second, the devil on her shoulder told her to look into the mirror on her closet door, that if she did she’d catch a glimpse of JJ shirtless, but Emily shook her head slightly, squeezing her eyes shut. Guilt flared in her stomach at the thought.

She’s been thinking about JJ too much lately. 

Their kiss. Their magical life changing kiss. The kiss to end all kisses. That was basically all Emily’s brain could focus on these days. 

Before that, her fantasies about Jennifer Jareau were simply fantasies, but now! Now she had her memories. That kiss lingered on her lips and on her brain and in her dreams. Sometimes late at night Emily has found herself putting a thumb onto her cheek, closing her eyes and pretending it was JJ’s hands pulling her closer, just as she had done in the basement on Halloween. 

If she had to describe how she felt, the only thing that made sense was to say that Emily was absolutely smitten with JJ. 

But, and there was always a but, they hadn’t mentioned the kiss since. Not even a word of acknowledgement between the two. 

The day after, when she and Derek walked to class, he interrogated her about what the hell happened , but Emily genuinely didn’t know. What she did know was that it wasn’t Emily who instigated, she thought, it was JJ who had pulled her tight and whose tongue swept across hers. 

That week, Emily had grown more and more concerned that she had crossed a line. JJ had started acting strangely, looking away anytime Emily looked at her and telling her that she was too busy to hang out. Then, that weekend JJ had surprised her with a party. A party to celebrate Emily, and Reid and Hotch.

Emily realized that JJ wasn’t ignoring her, instead she was scheming something to make Emily happy. And what had she done? Cried in the bathroom and made a scene. Instead of JJ realizing that Emily was a broken shell of a girl and running far from her, JJ had held her tight and told her everything was going to be ok.

Emily didn’t tell her everything that day, not about all the awful things she did to fit in as a teen, about her mistakes, her abortion, about Matthew… Not yet. Emily had tucked all of that into a box that need not be opened up any time soon.

So now, Emily had the thoughts of JJ’s lips dancing around her brain, but also of her hand in hers, her arms around her and the way she promised she’d always be there.

This got in the way when Emily was trying to focus on other things like school or carrying on a conversation with the blonde. 

JJ sneezed, startling Emily out of her thoughts. She turned back around and looked at JJ, who’s hair was slightly less wet and was now wearing her hoodie and looking a little bit warmer. 

“À tes souhaits,” Emily said, saying bless you in French.

“I hope I’m not getting sick,” JJ grumbled, dumping some pens out of her backpack in search of the elusive keys. “Kennedy’s gotten half the team out with the flu.”

She sneezed again.

“Gesundheit,” Emily said, having fun with her languages. 

“She got it from her boyfriend,” JJ continued, “You remember Anderson? On the water polo team?” 

Emily nodded, taking a seat on the edge of her desk, watching JJ sitting on her bed in her clothes, imagining a completely different situation where she would do that. (Emily’s thoughts were full of comments like these, her imagination going wild at the prospect of JJ maybe liking her back.)

“I’m going to kill Garcia,” JJ said, “She told me she’d be in our room after our game.”

“Aha!” JJ said, pulling her lanyard out of a pencil case. “Got them. Thanks Em for the towel. You’re the best neighbour I could ever ask for.”

JJ handed it back, and Emily took the slightly damp towel and hung it up on the back of her closet.

“Anytime,” Emily said, “Though I think this may be an elaborate plot to steal all of my clothes.”

JJ looked down at herself.

“I think it suits me!”

Emily had to agree.

 ———

Two days later, JJ was at Emily’s door again, but looking a lot worse for wear. 

A pink fuzzy blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, she was wearing oversized sweatpants and a sports bra, and her hair was messy and tucked behind her ears. Her nose was red and her skin looked pale.

“Hey Em,” JJ rasped.

“You’re sick,” Emily pointed out, unhelpfully.

“Nice work, Sherlock,” she said, coughing into her blanketed arm. 

“What’s up?” Emily asked, leaning on the door frame.

“I’m out of cold pills and can’t sleep,” JJ said.

“It’s like nine pm?” Emily said, the statement coming out as a question. 

“I have practice at six in the morning,” JJ said, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, sniffling a little. The girl was swaying as she stood. 

“You cannot actually be going to practice in that state,” Emily said.

“What state?” JJ barely managed to get out between sneezes.

“ Bless you ,” Emily said, knowing the girl definitely needed it. 

Emily went to her desk, rummaging through a drawer. She found the very end of a cold and flu medicine pack, the kind with day and nighttime pills and handed them to JJ. 

“Those good?” Emily asked. 

JJ nodded and thanked her, before trudging back across the hall. 

Before her door closed Emily said: “ Please take a break JJ!”

“I’m fine,” came the nasal voice of her friend, followed by the sound of her blowing her nose. 

 ———

On Wednesday, JJ showed up to their weekly French study date somehow looking even more sick. There were bags under her eyes, and a wracking cough made her entire body shutter with its force. 

JJ continued to insist that she was fine, despite the fact that she spent more time coughing than speaking French.

Emily was worried about her, but knew at this point, nothing she would say would make the very determined girl slow down. 

 ——— 

On Thursday, Emily walked into the girls’ bathroom, toothbrush in hand before bed, and found JJ curled up on the floor next to the toilet, looking pale as a sheet.

“JJ, oh my god,” Emily said, pushing open the semi ajar door and kneeling down next to her friend. 

“Mmm fine,” JJ made out, her face in her arms, not lifting her head to talk to Emily.

“This is the exact opposite of fine, JJ,” Emily said.

She had absolutely no idea how to help her. 

Emily thought back to all the times she had been sick, and it had usually been whatever staff her mother had had at the time who took care of her. Nannies, cooks, assistants would bring her food, take her temperature and put buckets next to her bed. Ambassador Prentiss wasn’t the kind of mom that Emily would see on TV worried about her child when they were sick. 

“Do you want water?” Emily asked, feeling helpless.

JJ shook her head, not raising it from the edge of the toilet.

“The floor is nice and cold,” JJ said, “I like it here.”

Emily almost laughed, and would have if she wasn’t so worried about the other girl.

“What do you need, JJ?” Emily asked.

“Nothing,” JJ said, “I can handle this.”

JJ’s hair hung limp around her face, and Emily leaned forward, taking the elastic from around her wrist and helped JJ pull her hair back. Emily couldn’t help, but she could at least keep JJ’s hair from getting puke on it.

Clearly hitting another wave of nausea, JJ moved, emptying the rest of her stomach into the toilet and then flushing. Emily rubbed her arm up and down her back, hoping that the motions would be comforting. 

While the toilet did its thing, JJ sat back, leaning against the grey stall door, her shoulder resting against Emily’s. Her head was tilted back and her eyes closed tightly against the fluorescent lights. 

“I really don’t feel good, Em,” JJ whimpered. 

“I know,” Emily said, “What do you want?”

“Water,” JJ croaked. 

“I’ll get some,” Emily said, patting JJ on the shoulder. JJ nodded, returning to her hunched over position on the toilet.

Emily basically sprinted down the hall, and spotting JJ’s slightly ajar door, she pushed it open to find Penelope sitting at her computer.

“Hello my beautiful goth friend,” Penelope said, “How may I be of service to you?”

“JJ’s currently puking her guts out,” Emily explained, slightly breathless, “She’s asking for water.”

“Oh my poor dear,” she said, pushing back from her desk and hurrying over to JJ’s night-side table to retrieve her water. “She told me she was going to shower, I didn’t think she was that bad.”

“She kept telling me she was fine,” Emily said, “Even while she puked.”

“Typical,” Penelope huffed, following Emily down the hall, “Can’t show any weakness. Both of you! I’m sick of it.”

Emily didn’t say anything, not sure if she could argue that accusation. She followed Penelope into the bathroom, hovering by the sink as Penelope took over her caregiving responsibilities. 

She gently felt JJ’s forehead, and held up her water bottle for JJ to rinse her mouth. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” Penelope said after a few minutes without any puke. “Em? Help us?

JJ stook shakily, and when Emily took her arm, JJ leaned into her, putting most of her weight on the taller girl. Penelope carried JJ’s water and shower things back for her, letting Emily take care of the dizzy JJ.

Penelope held the door open, and Emily guided JJ into bed, hovering awkwardly as JJ nestled into her bed and Penelope grabbed their trash bin and placed it next to her. 

“I’ve got it from here, Em,” Penelope said, patting her on the shoulder. 

“Feel better JJ,” she said, backing away, unable to take her eyes off the girl, who looked paler than she’d ever seen her. 

“I miss you already,” JJ rasped out, her eyes still closed, curling up on her side and pulling the blankets up over her shoulder. 

Emily smiled before leaving the room. She was worried about her but knew Penelope would take better care of JJ than Emily could ever. 

 ———

She and Hotch spent almost five days straight crammed inside a tiny study room in the arts library working on a criminal psych presentation. It was worth almost half their grade.

They had commandeered the tiny room, booking it for the entire block of time each day, and only really leaving it to eat and sleep. At first, their friends would join them, popping in to provide moral support, but as the deadline neared, and Hotch and Emily grew more frantic, their friends mostly left them alone besides for the occasional reminder to take a break.

According to Penelope who periodically texted Emily with updates, JJ spent most of the time sleeping, and having been given time off from soccer and extensions on her school work, Penelope had finally convinced her to focus on recovery. 

It was in the library when Emily began to sniffle. It was an annoying nasal drip that tickled her nose and made her feel like she constantly needed to blow her nose. 

Unfortunately, she was not the kind of girl who had tissues on her. Emily wasn’t particularly well prepared in that respect. She dug through her backpack only to find a pair of tangled headphones, chapstick and two tampons. She briefly considered sticking those in her nose and calling it a day but thought Hotch would probably pass out at the sight of that.

An hour in, Hotch got so fed up with her constant sniffling that he stole a roll of paper towel from the boys washroom and threw it at her when he returned. 

The scratchy paper made her nose sensitive and red. She learned about the redness when Hotch called her “Rudolph” to get her attention.  

As the day ticked on, Emily began to feel either too hot, or too cold. She chalked this up to the library’s dodgy heating system and the colder November weather. 

After lunch, the sneezing started. 

“You’re sick, Prentiss,” Hotch told her.

“No of course not,” Emily said. “I don’t get sick. It’s just allergies.”

“What are you allergic to?” 

“Uhh,” Emily looked around, “Dust?”

“Sure.”

Emily was not sick. She couldn’t afford to get sick. Sure, she had spent a lot of time in close proximity to JJ, who was still spending her most time with her face in a bin, but Emily didn’t need this now. 

She was certainly aware she had had the exact conversation with JJ, encouraging the other girl to take a break to recover. Emily could talk the talk but couldn’t walk the walk on self care.

When she woke up the next morning. She felt even worse. Her throat was sore, she had a headache and she couldn’t breathe through her nose. Having given JJ all of her cold medicine, she powered through, drinking an endless barrage of hot tea, hoping it would heal her. 

She had too much to do. 

Days passed with Emily pushing herself to exhaustion, working all day, making it to her extra curricular meetings and only falling asleep during a few of her lectures. 

The day of her presentation, Emily’s entire body hurt. She had barely slept the night before, as her sneezing kept her up. She managed to wear a pair of leggings and a sweater, but tied her hair back in a ponytail, too exhausted to do much else.  

“You look like shit,” Hotch told her when she showed up to their class, shaking his head. 

“Thanks, I feel like it too,” Emily quipped. “I haven’t thrown up yet though, so I count that as a victory.”

In a feat of sheer willpower, Emily made it through her presentation before collapsing into the fold out lecture hall seat, her head laid back, immediately falling asleep and sleeping through the other four group presentations. 

After class, Hotch felt her forehead with his hand and announced that she had a fever. He then frog marched her straight to the clinic, pointing out that her hands shook and that she couldn’t do anything without coughing up a storm. 

Emily was sure if it was not for his American Law seminar with mandatory attendance, he would be right next to her, ensuring she actually saw a doctor.

“The doctor will call you when it’s your turn dear,” the receptionist told her as she handed Emily’s student card back to her. 

Emily nodded and grabbed some hand sanitizer, rubbing the cold liquid over her hands. 

She sighed, which turned into a cough that tore through her lungs. She found a spot in the waiting room, under a gigantic poster about STDs. To her left was a small table covered with pamphlets about mental health resources and a big bowl of condoms. 

The door to the clinic opened again and Emily shivered. The early November breeze was starting to chill her to the bone. She lifted the hood to her black sweater over her head, hoping to conserve some more heat that way. 

Emily glanced at the new patient and was not entirely surprised to see JJ walking towards her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Emily said as JJ walked into the waiting room.

“I hear I gave you my plague?” JJ asked, shrugging her backpack off her shoulders. 

Emily nodded and coughed. 

“Sorry,” JJ sat down next to her.

“What are you doing here?” Emily asked, “You look a lot better than you did.”

“Hotch told me you needed an escort,” JJ said, “And I was in the neighbourhood. He said something about not trusting you to actually go to the doctor’s.”

Emily laughed at that. 

“You’re my babysitter?” Emily asked. 

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” JJ said with a wink. “I think half of my team is out of commission with this. I’ve never been so sick, I’m glad I’m on the mend.”

Emily nodded, counting the days in her head and realizing that JJ had been out for over a week. 

“You look better than you did,” Emily commented.

“Thanks,” JJ said, sarcastically, “At least I’m not puking anymore.”

“I never get sick,” Emily coughed, “I just want something for the cough and I’ll be fine.”

Emily coughed into her elbow, as if reminded.

“How did your presentation go?” JJ asked. 

Emily’s heart swelled at the thought that JJ paid attention to her.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Emily said. “I feel really out of it. Hotch marched me straight here after so probably not great.” 

“Emily Prentiss?” A nurse called out.

Emily gathered up her things, shot JJ a wave and went into the exam room. 

Her doctor, a surly elderly white woman, with greying hair tied back in a low bun, barely looked at her, asking Emily a series of questions.

“What are your symptoms?” she finally asked. 

Emily explained how her head cold transformed into something a touch more debilitating, making sure to avoid downplaying her symptoms, because she knew they would take any opportunity to send her home telling her to drink water and rest. Emily did not have time to rest. 

The doctor took her vitals, listened to her lungs, grimacing at the sound of them, then took her oxygen, noting them in her chart.

Emily wasn’t a doctor but the face she made at her oxygen levels meant that they were definitely not good. 

The sudden onset of chills left her shivering on the examination table as the doctor took notes on her chart.

She checked her phone, smiling as she noticed that she had a notification from the one and only cheetobreath98.

It was a selfie, taken surreptitiously from below in the waiting room, captioned, “plague lookz!”

Emily found herself smiling. A small flame with the number 27 was next to JJ’s name. They had a streak. It was childish, but the visible marker of the fact that they had talked every day for a month, sometimes for hours at a time, sending silly photos back and forth. 

“You have a chest cold. Bronchitis. We want to nip it in the bud before it becomes pneumonia,” the doctor said, spinning in her chair to face her. “We see it a lot with students, you all work too hard.”

Emily nodded, not really agreeing with the sentiment, but understanding the feeling behind it. Emily had to work hard. 

“Take this inhaler three times daily, at least,” he said, “And any time you’re having difficulty breathing. You can take some acetaminophen for the fever.”

He explained how to use it. 

“You cannot drink, smoke or take any recreational drugs on this medication,” he warned. 

Emily, who had vowed to not smoke for the duration of her illness anyways, hoping to preserve her fragile lugs, nodded.

“Try honey for the sore throat. Lots of liquids.”

She nodded.

“Come back if you’re not better in a week,” he concluded. “Your prescription will be  there for pick up at the pharmacy.”

“Thanks doc,” Emily smiled, taking her leave, placing her mask back on for the hallway.

In the hall she pulled out her phone, opened Snapchat and took a selfie with the waiting room in the background. 

“Ya girl’s got bronchitis!!” Emily captioned it, sending it to JJ, as well as Derek and Hotch. They would enjoy her misery. 

Immediately Derek texted her.  

Derek 🕺: suuuuucks bro. need some soup?

Emily: i’ll be fine but thanks 

Emily: i feel like shit. the doctor gave me a puffer lol

Derek🕺: must be bad, I hear they usually just prescribe rest. Your lungs must suck 

Emily: typical, id assume they’d be in pristine condition 

Derek🕺: 🙄

Derek🕺: you literally smoke cigarettes 

Emily laughed at her phone and walked up to the receptionist to fill out the paperwork. The nice woman smiled at her and told her to get well soon. 

As JJ met her in the foyer, phone vibrated with another text. 

Derek🕺: you coming back to res?

Emily: ya, hotch sent jj to baby sit me

Derek🕺: wasn’t she the one who got you sick? now shes taking care of u

Derek🕺: did u make out or something??

Emily: shut up that was before she was sick

“Get any good drugs?” JJ whispered to her conspiratorially as they walked out together. 

Emily laughed louder than she expected, which manifested in wracking coughs between the two girls. 

“Actually yeah,” Emily held up the prescription. “Only because you got me sick.”

“Everyone is sick, how can you be sure it was me? Anyways I had the flu, not bronchitis.”

“You’ve been cooped up with Hotch all weekend. Maybe he got you sick.”

“I don’t think Hotch can get sick,” Emily muttered. 

They went to the pharmacy together, picking up Emily’s drugs. Emily also added some acetaminophen to her haul, cough drops and a pack of tissues, the kind with moisturizer per JJ’s suggestion. 

As Emily waited in line to cash out, swaying a little with the exertion of standing up, JJ left for a second and then returned with a box of tea. 

“I’ll make us some,” JJ said, “It’ll heal you.”

Emily felt warm, despite the chill of the store. She wasn’t sure if it was her fever or her growing love for Jennifer Jareau.

Together, they walked to their residence. Once inside, Emily wondered if JJ actually meant it when she offered the tea. 

Emily opened her door, tossing her things on her desk. She took her puffer out of the bag, read the instructions before taking a dose, trying to keep the medicine in her lungs as she breathed deep, holding back the coughing. 

The sun had started setting earlier and earlier as winter neared, and outside of Emily’s windows, the street lamps turned on. 

Emily desperately wanted it to work. She felt like a zombie, exhausted and either too hot or two cold all at once. 

She changed into a pair of pyjama pants, a black crewneck sweater with a band logo on the chest, and a pair of fuzzy socks, and pulled a blanket around her shoulders, wondering if she should just crawl into bed or if JJ’s offer still stood. 

“Em!” JJ called out as she knocked on her door, “Kettle’s boiling.”

Emily’s heart soared. The sentence felt so… domestic. She hurried across the hall, inhaler in hand (just in case), standing hesitantly in the doorway. JJ had changed into grey sweatpants and a soft green hoodie with her gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, looking much comfier than she had.

“Sit down!” JJ encouraged, “If you feel as gross as I do, you’ll need it.”

Emily did, relaxing on JJ’s bed, leaning into the mountain of comfortable pillows and breathing a sigh of relief in not standing any longer. A deep exhaustion had settled into bones, not helped by the long lecture that morning and the clinic visit. 

JJ walked over, handing her a mug and sitting on the bed next to her, taking a sip of her own mug. 

It was the same tea as before, sleepy time, with the warm combination of chamomile, mint, and other fruity tastes greeting her like a hug. She clutched it with two hands, enjoying how the mug radiated heat and warmed her chilly fingers. 

“Thank you,” Emily managed, her voice sounding a bit less scratchy to her ears than before.

“Any time,” JJ replied, “It’s nice to have company.”

Emily looked away, suddenly feeling shy. Should she stay? Was she welcome to hang out? Emily wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay, she didn’t want JJ to see how gross she was with her messy hair, stuffy nose and endless sneezing. 

JJ clearly looked better than she did earlier that week, Emily taking her place as token invalid in residence.

“I was going to watch tv,” JJ said, “I don’t think I could handle doing homework right now.”

“Oh I’ll go,” Emily said, taking the hint and moving to climb off the bed. JJ’s arm stuck out, grabbing her shoulder and stopping her. 

“No, Em,” JJ said, “I was wondering if you wanted to join me. ”

Oh. Emily felt her face break into a smile. She relaxed into the bed as JJ grabbed her laptop and set it between them, she pulled a fluffy sky-blue blanket, and draped it over her legs, then over Emily’s. 

There was the noise of keys in the door, Emily felt herself pull away from JJ, leaning away from her friend as if they had been caught doing something wrong.

Penelope Garcia opened the door, followed shortly after by Derek Morgan who was carrying two large take out bowls of soup. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” Derek said, handing each of them a bowl. 

“How are my two sick dears?” Penelope cooed, as she collected a textbook from her desk. 

Emily tried to speak, coughing instead, and JJ reached out to steady her bowl, knowing that she would spill if she wasn’t careful. 

She decided not to acknowledge Derek's comment because even Emily didn’t know she would be in JJ’s room, how could he? 

“Just about as bad as you would expect,” JJ said. 

Emily nodded, recovering from her fit. 

“We won’t keep you!” Penelope replied, “we have a study date! Enjoy your movie night. Don’t forget to text me if either of you need anything tonight. I’ll be back late.”

Penelope looked at them and frowned. 

“I may quarantine away from you, I do not want to catch that.”

“Get some sleep, guys” Derek said. “You look like shit.” 

“Thanks,” Emily said, thick with sarcasm. 

“Toodles!” Penelope said as they left.

The door shut, and the two girls began to sip the soup. It was chicken noodle and had cooled to the perfect temperature. 

“What do you wanna watch?” JJ asked between spoonfuls. 

Emily thought about her comfort tv and movies: The X Files. Or Star Trek: The Voyage Home (the one with the whales, exclusively, because she finds it silly and always makes her feel better). They were so nerdy. She couldn’t look JJ in the eye and reveal how much of a nerd she was. 

“I’m not sure,” she said instead, “Did you have something in mind?”

“I usually watch cooking shows,” JJ said, “To be honest. Or Gilmore Girls, Parks and Rec, or-”

JJ stopped herself. 

“Or what?” Emily prodded.

“Twilight ,” JJ admitted. 

Emily laughed.

“I haven’t seen it,” Emily commented, “I missed that phase I guess.”

“Oh you have to,” JJ said, getting excited, “It’s fantastic. And bad. It’s both at once. I was team Edward.”

Emily knew that was the vampire; she didn’t live under a rock, she just hadn’t actually seen the films. 

JJ began to babble, between coughs, about how as a kid she read each book as they came out, and even had a poster of the cast on her wall. Emily simply basked in her company and the excitement of watching something she cared about. 

Emily found herself cuddled up next to JJ, eating their soup and watching Twilight .

Between the warmth of JJ’s bed, the soothing soup and finally relaxing, Emily suddenly felt slightly better. Maybe taking a break to recover was actually a good thing. 

Emily almost laughed at the thought that it only took a case of bronchitis to get her in JJ’s bed. 

As the movie wore on, Emily’s exhaustion, and full stomach overtook her. The two girls wrapped in a blanket made it quickly warm and comforting, and as Bella discovered that Edward was a vampire, Emily felt her eyelids drooping. 

She tried to fight the feeling, but soon, Emily was fast asleep next to JJ. 

 ———

Emily woke up, hours later, in the dark with another blanket wrapped around her, JJ’s laptop nowhere in sight and no memory of anything she had just watched.

JJ was curled up into her side and was snoring quietly. 

Emily stiffened, at the reality of her current situation. She needed to relax or she would wake JJ up. Her back was to the wall, and JJ’s prone body blocked her exit. 

Her mind moved a mile a minute. JJ must’ve put away the laptop and given her another blanket, chosen not to wake Emily up. She wanted to sleep in the same bed.

What did this mean? Did JJ want to sleep next to her? Did JJ like her?

She thought hard about this, but she knew there was no way this was romantic . This must just be how close, female friendships went. Emily’s feelings for JJ were clouding her judgment. 

Emily was never invited to sleepovers, or had any close girl friends before, this is probably just what she was missing out on. 

God, she thought, maybe it’s good that nobody liked me. I would have caught feelings and made it weird. Just like I’m doing right now. 

Emily examined JJ’s face, which was only inches from her own. Gazing at each freckle, her long light brown eyelashes, her perfect eyebrows. Her pink lips were slightly parted, brealths coming out softly.

JJ shifted closer, as she, in her sleep, was probably moving toward Emily’s warmth unconsciously. 

Emily closed her eyes and basked in that moment. 

Before she knew it, JJ rolled around onto her other side, and Emily was left staring at the back of her blonde head. 

Missing the warmth, Emily tugged the blanket further around her shoulders. 

Emily looked around JJ’s darkened room, at the empty bed across the room. Penelope, true to her word, was elsewhere. For a second, Emily wondered whose bed she was sleeping in, but the strong urge to cough overtook her, distracting her from that train of thought. 

She rolled onto her back, coughing into her elbow, trying to stifle them so that she did not wake JJ. Unfortunately, the coughs kept coming, and Emily found herself struggling to breathe. She sat up, and before she knew what was happening, JJ was awake and sitting next to her with a comforting hand on her back, and Emily’s inhaler in hand.

“Hey you’re ok,” JJ whispered, running her hand up and down her back, “It’s ok baby.”

Emily tried to catch her breath, taking her medicine and trying to hold it into her lungs, before coughing again. Her entire body shook with them, and it brought forth the aching that permeated her entire entire body.

The coughs slowed, and she fell back into JJ, whose arms wrapped around her as she made soothing noises.

“You ok?” JJ asked, her own voice still sounding a bit hoarse.

Emily nodded, whimpering, and JJ handed her a water bottle. Emily thought for a second before taking it, knowing that she had already caught JJ’s sickness anyways. 

JJ’s strong arms wrapped around her, supporting her limp frame as she drank water and calmed back down, before moving away to let Emily lay back down.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” JJ said, “You were out halfway through the first movie and I knew you definitely needed the rest.”

Emily nodded, bracing for JJ to ask her to leave, but that didn’t come. 

“How are you feeling?” JJ asked. 

“Better,” Emily croaked. “My lungs still hurt.” 

“Do you still have a fever?” JJ asked, moving her hand to feel Emily’s forehead.

Emily closed her eyes at the gentle touch. 

“You’re hot,” JJ said, tutting at ther.

“Don’t you know it, babe,” Emily said, without thinking. 

Her eyes shot open, and she began to stutter, trying to backtrack what she said. JJ began to laugh.

“Miss Prentiss is cocky when she’s feverish,” JJ said, grinning at her.

Emily felt herself blush, but hoped JJ would take that as her fever and not her embarrassment. 

“It’s late, Em,” JJ said, “Go back to sleep.”

There it was. An invitation to continue sharing her bed. Emily relaxed, closing her eyes. 

This time, she didn’t quickly fall asleep, finding herself feeling tense in JJ’s bed, not wanting to do anything that would be seen as suspicious. 

Was she lying too close? Was she moving too much? Was she allowed to cuddle up to JJ? Did girls cuddle with each other?

Over Thanksgiving weekend last year, when she visited the Morgans with Derek, she and he shared his childhood bed. It was not like this, with the two of them fighting for blankets, kicking each other, and grumbling like siblings. Then, Emily didn’t feel this fluttering in her stomach or the desire to sniff the other persons hair. Well, Derek barely had any hair to sniff.

Emily forced herself to relax, to take as deep breaths as her lungs could manage and to try to fall back asleep. 

Some time passed, with Emily breathing slightly congested breaths in and out, as JJ tossed and turned a bit, moving around to get comfortable. 

Emily faded in and out of consciousness, right on the verge of sleep when movement on the bed told her that JJ had rolled again, and was now facing her. She could sense that JJ was looking at her, but didn’t open her eyes to confirm, still verging on sleep. 

She must have assumed that Emily was fast asleep, because the other girl turned to face Emily, and did something that Emily didn’t expect, nor knew exactly what to do with. 

JJ had kissed Emily’s forehead, softly, and Emily’s sleep deprived, feverish brain was not sure if it had actually happened, or if she had hallucinated. 

It took everything in Emily to not react, forcing her eyes closed and her body still, keeping her breathing steady. then rolled onto her side as if nothing had happened. 

Emily didn’t have the capacity to process the kiss, or the rush of emotions it conjured, so she decided that it was simply a figment of her imagination. 

Both girls fell asleep shortly after.

———

The second time Emily woke in JJ’s bed, the sun was up and the room was bathed in golden light. Emily felt warm and safe, and compared to the previous day, her body wasn’t aching as much. Emily opened her eyes and found that she was not only laying face to face with a sleeping JJ, but their limbs were tangled, as both of them had apparently decided to cuddle the other in their sleep.

Emily’s legs were wrapped up in JJ’s, her right leg between JJ’s, and the blonde’s arm was thrown casually around Emily’s shoulder, holding her close. 

This time, Emily didn’t panic, and relished the embrace of JJ. She knew that she wasn’t likely to get a chance to be this close to her again, without the excuse of a fever, so she wasn’t going to ruin it. 

Despite her best efforts, JJ’s eyes blinked open, as if sensing that Emily was awake. 

Emily pulled away, yawning, attempting to untangle their limbs.

“Why hello there,” JJ whispered, giggling at her. 

“Hi,” Emily whispered, smiling back at JJ.

“You look a lot better,” JJ commented, reaching out and fixing Emily’s bangs for her. 

“I feel better,” she said, “Less like I’m on the verge of death.”

“We can’t have you dying, Em,” she replied, “Who else would I cuddle with?”

Emily smiled at her.

 JJ sat up, stretching, revealing a slip of her lower back as the hem of her sweater rose above her waist. Emily did the same, sitting crossed legged in her bed, still wrapped in blankets despite the warmth of the room. JJ was lucky and her bed was near the radiator, keeping them toasty warm despite the chilled fall air. 

Emily peeked outside, watching fall leaves fly through the sky, patterning the courtyard with a blanket of leaves. JJ stood, put on her slippers, and took a drink of water, before offering it to Emily. 

Taking the water bottle, Emily sipped it awkwardly, completely unsure what to do with herself. All her experiences being in someone else’s bed had usually also involved her leaving quickly after, or at least in the morning before the other woke up. Now, Emily was watching JJ fuss with her hair in the mirror in the golden light of day.

“I’m starving,” JJ said, “What time is it?”

Emily grabbed JJ’s phone, seeing the time. It was 6:30am, long before she ever normally woke up. She must have fallen asleep earlier than she thought. 

“Cafs aren’t open yet,” Emily said, “It’s only 6:30.” 

“Do you like omelettes?” JJ asked.

———

Fifteen minutes later, Emily was seated in the tiny dorm kitchen at the end of their floor, wrapped in a blanket, with another steaming cup of tea in her hands, watching JJ flip an omelette in a pan.

Apparently JJ is one of the few people to use the kitchen—besides Emily and her cookies—to use the kitchen for more than instant noodles and pizza pockets. 

She had eggs in the fridge, and diced frozen vegetables in the freezer, and quickly whipped up a delicious breakfast for the two of them in minutes, chatting the entire time. 

“Oooh,” JJ said as she pulled out her carton of eggs, “I should get some apple cider. Someone’s got a massive jug in here and I’m dying for some.”

“I’ve never liked apple cider,” Emily said, taking a gulp of her tea. 

The hot tea—and her doctor prescribed medicine—was clearing her sinuses and Emily felt like she was breathing fully for the first time in days. 

“That’s impossible,” JJ said, matter-of-factly, as she cracked an egg into a bowl. “It’s the best thing ever.”

Emily shrugged, “I’ve only had it once and it wasn’t that good.”

“If I wasn’t a good person, I would steal this person’s cider and make you try it,” JJ said, gesturing with a spatula. 

JJ turned and busied herself with adding the veggies to the pan, sautéing them in butter and some seasoning. 

“We should go to the fair, together,” JJ blurted, “I mean. All of us.”

“I’ve also never been to a fair,” Emily said with another shrug. “I have to remind you that I’ve barely lived in the US, and when I did, I was trapped in stuffy private schools.”

JJ gave her a look that, if it was from anyone else, would look pitying. 

“It’s decided,” JJ said, plopping the omelette onto Emily’s plate. “When you feel better, we’re going to the fair.”

“It’s a date.”

[boxoftheskyking]

Pick Up Every Piece - Part One

Ok things to know: -this does not take place in China. It does not take place in the US. It is the year 2000 in a fictional country that I control (this project is a challenge called Let’s Do Exposition). Just go with it. -It’s all talking. That’s what I do, you know this. -Warnings for stuff, I dunno I haven’t written it all yet. When it’s shiny it’ll go on AO3 but for now here’s what I got so far.  -There is a lot of alcohol in this fic -Like all fic writers I live on positive reinforcement and this shit is a lot of work. -The title may change, yes it is from NMH

---

There are bodies in the creek bed. Enough bodies to stop the flow of the water. Thirty at least, a dam of them. An old woman and a child. Clothes and hair sodden, darkened and wet. Clouds of darkness hovering in the air around them, seeping into dead flesh. An old woman and a child and others. Others in that middle age, the age that passes comment. Is it wrong that these two bodies stand out to him? After all, if he were among the bodies, if he was lying in this creek bed, thirty, skinny, and unremarkable, he would hardly notice himself. He’d blend into the pile, only serving to make the word a plural. Body becomes Bodies. Alters the language. Murder becomes Massacre. There are thirty bodies and hundreds, thousands of flies. Crawling on the back of the little boy’s hand. A smell like—not burning, not quite. Death. Not rot, fresh death. The sand under his feet is nearly dry. The creek bed is dry.

Wei Ying blinks. The creek burbles on alongside him, one duck lazily riding the current under a fallen branch and along to somewhere more interesting. It’s October, and beautiful, and there’s the smallest twilight bite in the air pricking at his nostrils on every inhale. He blows out a long breath and finds himself scratching at his arms, the backs of his hands, where the old scars are. They’re ugly, blotchy and dark like land masses on a faded old map, and they still itch sometimes. He rubs at them hard with the heel of his palm—it’s a weird half-feeling, the layers of dead tissue. It’s not dead, Wen Qing would correct him. It’s not necrotic, it’s just scarring. 

He steps around the gnarled roots that reach up from the banks, trying to get to the road but not ever making it. There’s a few muddy stuffed bears tucked among them, plastic wrap snagged on the bark from cheap drugstore bunches of flowers that have rotted away. A couple of carefully hand-painted wooden signs nailed to the trunks, trying to convince the place that people still remember.

He shakes himself and turns away from the woods, hopping the fence onto the road that leads to the bar. He’s late, but Li Chen is always late in the mornings so he deserves to work an extra fifteen minutes. It’s not like there’s a manager to yell at him.

The bar is across the street from an old gas station, one that got firebombed during the war and then left. That’s the thing about Yiling. Everywhere else, even up in Gusu, the cities have gotten rid of as much evidence as possible. Well, they’ve gotten rid of most and turned the rest into memorials to the victorious dead, nice and shiny and flying the Sunshot flag. Nobody really cares about appearances around Yiling—maybe the city council does, but they don’t have anywhere near the budget to run cleanup. Too much actual infrastructure got hit during the worst of the fighting, and they’ll be years behind the rest of the country for the next decade or so. Memorials here are all handmade, and none of them last long.

There’s a flag, though, spray painted on what’s left of the concrete wall of the gas station. A golden hand covering most of a red sun, partly covered by black—one finger for each of the four leading clans and a thumb for everyone else. Typical. He’s not sure who’d have painted a Sunshot here. No one local, he’d put money on it. He supposes they know about spray paint in Lanling—governments must adapt.

It’s probably intentional, anyway, the lack of cleanup. The lack of progress. Nightless City can be repurposed by the Jin government, but the site of the Massacre should stay ugly and busted for a few more years. So no one forgets what it looks like to lose.

Wei Ying likes it in Yiling. “It’s my kind of town,” he always tells Jiang Cheng, who usually throws something at his head. “You want to be a bartender in a town like this. In a town like this, people need a bartender. It’s nice to be needed, you know.” 

It’s a shitty bar by any other place’s standards, but for Yiling it’s cozy. The owner, who everyone just calls Granny, still orders sawdust for the floors like it’s 1860 or something, to soak up spills and puke and, occasionally, blood.

Jiang Cheng always says it’s only a matter of time before they have murder in the bar. “Manslaughter, at least,” he’ll say. “It’s just got that look.” Wei Ying says everyone in Yiling’s too tired. Mostly he and Wen Ning just roll drunks out onto the sidewalk and into a cab if someone can afford it. 

Jiang Cheng himself comes in around eight. It’s as much of a rush as they ever get, so he has to wait for a few old men to get their cheap lager and gin before sliding up to the bar on his usual stool. Wen Ning gives him a cheerful salute as he comes in, and Jiang Cheng nods awkwardly back at him.

“You’re back early,” Wei Ying says, drawing him a pint of something bitter. Jiang Cheng still lives in Yunmeng, in the old family home, but he has a sublet in Yiling now that he’s working for the intelligence department. Jin Zixuan calls it “cutting his teeth” monitoring old Wen strongholds. Jiang Cheng calls it “shoveling shit.”

It turns out cleaning up a civil war is a pain in the ass, even five years later.

“We should do lunch with Wen Qing on Saturday. She’ll want to see you.”

Jiang Cheng pulls out his annoying little planner, full of his cramped handwriting and meetings with this informant and that police sergeant. “Have to be brunch, I’ve got a twelve-thirty on Saturday.”

Wei Ying snorts at him. “Brunch, in Yiling. Good luck.”

“Hangover breakfast, then.”

“That we can do.”

Jiang Cheng takes a long pull of his beer and Wei Ying can see the relief run down him from the crown of his head down over his shoulders like something hot and slippery. Oil maybe, or homemade noodles. He groans and drops his head down behind his glass.

“Hey, Wei Ying!” An arthritic hand waves at him from the other end of the bar.

“Gotcha, Riseung,” he calls and starts fishing for the kahlua and cream. It’s always at the back of the cooler; no one else ever orders it. “You’re gonna work yourself into an early grave,” he tosses back at Jiang Cheng. 

“Not if you keep giving me beer.”

“Hey, Wei Ying, I saw that story last week. Hell of a thing.” Li Riseung has a little cream mustache, but Wei Ying’s not going to mention it.

“The gas thing?” Wei Ying grins at him. “Yeah, I’m telling you, it’s all connected. You watch the prices when Lanling tries to pass another referendum. It’s all supposed to soften you up. You got something for me today?”

“Still writing your conspiracy theories?” Jiang Cheng calls to him. “Some guys just don’t know when to quit.”

(Someone else comes up, he pulls a pint of stout.)

Riseung bristles. “Wei Ying is the only real journalist left in this country. You’ll see.”

Wei Ying props his chin on his folded hands and waits. Riseung takes another long sip. “Yu Xiuying’s got her popcorn maker up and running. She’s starting to sell what she can, make enough to get the theater back in order.”

“Really? That would be something. I’m sick of taking the train every time I want to see a movie.”

“You should report on that, get her some customers.”

Wei Ying drums his fingers on his chin. “Maybe we can work out an ad situation. I need more ads, you know. Papers ain’t cheap.”

Riseung finishes his drink, sets the glass down on the bar. He half-reaches for his pocket. “So, do I owe you, or . . .”

Wei Ying stifles a sigh. Technically it’s nothing he can use. He’s not about to publish an expose on popcorn. Still, he waves a hand. “Your money’s no good here. Go on, keep up the good work.”

The man grins up at him, flashing a row of silver fillings, and heads over to bother someone else. 

(Another customer—rum and Coke.)

“You’re just letting people drink for free, huh?” Jiang Cheng says. Wei Ying wanders back over to him, taking a sip of his own drink (coffee, plus whiskey, just enough to get through the shift).

“Reporting is all about cultivating sources, Jiang Cheng, even you should know that. Li Riseung is a source.”

“A source,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “He’s a drunk.”

“So’s everyone. This whole country’s full of drunks. Drunks make the world go around.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “This city is fucking depressing.”

“Oh, and all of Lanling’s sober, is it? Yunmeng? Everybody’s living like Lans? You’d be much more pleasant with a few more of these in you.” Wei Ying grabs his pint glass and dumps the end of it out, refilling in the same smooth movement. It’s just out of spite. He shouldn’t be wasting a good few ounces of genuinely nice beer. But he can’t help it; Jiang Cheng brings it out in him. He spins and shimmies a bit to the bad pop song coming from the busted speaker above him and grabs a bin of limes to chop.

“When are you going to come home?”

Wei Ying doesn’t slip and cut himself, but it’s close.

“I live in Yiling, Jiang Cheng.”

“Yeah, for now.”

Wei Ying sighs. “I like it here, okay? You think they’d let me back in Yunmeng, after everything?”

“I’ve got influence now. They wouldn’t say anything.”

(Two lagers, shot of tequila.)

He hasn’t lived in Yunmeng in years. Almost a decade now. He was in Yunmeng at the start of everything, when Wen Ruohan was forced out of office and half the military went with him. He visits now, but there’s still that sense of before when he’s there, like the majority of his life hasn’t happened yet. But Jiang Cheng is never going to get that, he’s a linear person.

“Not saying anything isn’t the same as allowing. I’m not going to make you fight all day just so I can work at some bougie wine bar somewhere.”

“You wouldn’t have to work at a bar. You could—”

“What? Write? You think anyone anywhere is going to hire me at a paper again? Despite all the rumors, you’re not that dumb.”

“Fuck off. You could work with me.”

“Intelligence. Really? How do you think that would work out? ‘Yes, Jin Zixuan, whatever you say, Jin Zixuan—’”

“Fuck off.” 

Wei Ying shakes his head and scrapes a pile of lime wedges back in the bin. “I like where I am. I’ve got the paper—”

“It’s not a paper.”

Wei Ying doesn’t slam the knife down, but it’s a close thing. “Jiang Cheng—”

“You’re such a fucking martyr. What, you lose your dream job so you go to the ass crack of the world and set yourself up as king of nowhere?”

“I’m not king of anything, I’m just writing.”

(Three glasses of white wine.)

“Yiling Laozu.” Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue. “I know you can’t use your real name, but that’s embarrassing. Laozu. You and your sources.”

Wei Ying takes a breath and unclenches his jaw. “If Wen Qing were here you wouldn’t be calling us embarrassing.” 

“You’re embarrassing. She’s not embarrassing.”

“It’s our paper.”

“Wen Qing has dignity. You have none.”

Wei Ying gathers up his knife and cutting board to run them back to the dish pit. “Ah, Jiang Cheng, you love me. I know you do.”

It’s always a good way to end a conversation, their own private code. If you keep pushing here you’re going to break something. A warning. You love me. I know you do. Jiang Cheng doesn't ever deny it, but he never agrees either. He doesn't need to. Wei Ying has proof. The scars on the back of his hands, curling around his wrists and up his arms—burn scars, chemical burns—are proof. Jiang Cheng doesn't like to look at his hands. That's proof too. 

 When he comes back out, Jiang Cheng isn’t alone. The general noise of the bar has fallen to a murmur, and the rowdy game of dominoes is paused in the corner.

 Xue Yang is sprawled over two stools, dressed in shiny black leather and grinning a few inches away from Jiang Cheng’s face.

“How’s it going, Captain Jiang?”

Jiang Cheng leans away. “I don’t see you. You are not here.”

“Course not. Good boy.”

Jiang Cheng’s hand tightens around his glass, and Wei Ying picks up the pace slightly. 

“Leave him alone, Xue Yang,” he says, carefully mild.

The grin turns on him, and Xue Yang waves, his weird little black prosthesis sticking out like a lighting-struck tree. “You telling me what to do, Wei Ying?” 

“I would never. Here, have a drink. If you want.” He pours him a double from his own secret bottle, the one Granny gave him on a good night in the summer. It’s painfully ironic—Xue Yang would be the only person in Yiling who could afford it if he ever actually paid for it.

Wei Ying nods to him and slides the glass across the bar, along with the usual brown envelope. Jiang Cheng sighs and spins around on his stool, looking away.

“Feels light,” Xue Yang says, like always.

“It’s not,” Wei Ying says, also like always. 

Xue Yang grins around the little white stick hanging out of his mouth, and Wei Ying grins back. “Eight percent extra on anything you’re short next time.”

“It’s not short. And it’s five percent, don’t try to fuck with me.” Wei Ying smiles wider and does not blink.

“Maybe it’s changed.”

“Granny would tell me, and she wouldn’t hear it from you.”

“Maybe it’s changing today.” Xue Yang leans across the bar, not quite getting in his face, but close enough. Wei Ying meets Wen Ning’s eye over his shoulder. Wen Ning takes a few steps away from the door, but Wei Ying shakes his head just a fraction and he goes still.

“You don’t have the authority.” Wei Ying lets his grin go a little unnatural at the corners, a little bit of a snarl. “And it’s not short, so it doesn’t matter.”

Xue Yang laughs and tucks the envelope into his jacket, then takes a long swig. Wei Ying breathes, finally, quiet and careful.

“Xue Yang,” he says as he starts to wipe down the bar again. “You know you wound me.”

Xue Yang wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “Oh do I?”

“You know it hurts me, deep down in the soul parts of my body, to see you drink top shelf scotch with a fucking sucker in your mouth.” 

Xue Yang sticks out his tongue so Wei Ying can see the little yellow nub of it. “It’s pineapple.” 

“Great. Thank you. I’m going to go drink bleach now.”

Jiang Cheng half turns to glare at him. “That’s not fucking funny.”

Xue Yang chugs the rest of the scotch and tosses the empty glass at Wei Ying. He hates that it makes him flinch before he catches it. “Tell Granny I say hi.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hey, where’s the little one? Haven’t seen her in a minute.”

Wei Ying stiffens. “You’ll stay away from her if you cherish the rest of those fingers.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Xue Yang gives him a mocking salute and saunters back out towards the door. He’s nearly out when he knocks into an empty chair, sending it to the floor with a crack like a gunshot. No one hits the deck completely, but the held-breath silence turns into a gasp as all eyes snap to the sound, shoulders up and hands braced on tabletops, thighs tensed and ready to run. 

Even Xue Yang is frozen at the door for a second. He laughs, though his jaw is tight. “Just a chair, ladies and gentlemen. Clean this shit up, Wen Ning.” And he’s gone.

Wei Ying deflates, adding some of the good scotch to his own cup. Jiang Cheng makes a face.

“How’s that coffee?”

“Shut up.”

“You should let me talk to Zixuan.”

“You talk to him every day.”

“You know what I mean. How long have you been paying—”

Wei Ying sighs and flicks his rag at his brother. “Thing one: I don’t pay, Granny pays. Thing two: Xue Yang is just a low level street thug with connections, he’s as in charge of the operation as I am in charge of Yiling. Thing three: it all kicks up to the Jins at the end of the day, so what are they gonna do about it?”

“Zixuan isn’t—”

“Yeah, I know your best pal is the paragon of morality.”

(Scotch and soda, root beer, gin and tonic, and three pints.)

“He’s our brother-in-law.”

“And your brother-in-arms, I know, I’d never dare disparage the mighty—”

“He’s a nicer brother than you are.”

Wei Ying mimes a faint. “I’m going to call Shijie, tell her you’re being mean to me.”

Jiang Cheng goes quiet, looks down at his beer. Wei Ying reaches out for it, an offering.

“Another?”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “I shouldn’t.” A chunk of his hair comes loose from its tie, feathers across his forehead.

“When are you gonna cut that hair, huh?” Wei Ying flicks it back over his ear. Jiang Cheng swipes at his hand lazily.

“I like it like this.”

“You and Zixuan are twins now, huh? You cultivators. Does Lan Zhan still keep his long, do you think?”

“Dunno. Haven’t seen him in a long time. Stop it, leave it, I have it how I want it.”

Wei Ying laughs at him. “Looks good. Dignified. Hey, did you ever ask for Zidian back?”

Jiang Cheng’s face does something complicated, a little bitter. “Not gonna happen. No spiritual weapons are gonna be authorized any time soon.”

“Yeah, but it’s yours.”

“It’s not mine. It’s the government’s.”

“But it responds to you. What good does it do locked away in—”

“Leave it, Wei Ying. I know you’ve got opinions about cultivation, but I’m fucking tired and it’s not going to change anything.”

“Well, when you’re in charge. Then you’ll show ‘em.”

That does make Jiang Cheng laugh, which is satisfying.

(Two gin and tonics.)

“Hey, you’re not allowed—” Wen Ning calls from the door, followed by the tap-tap of a metal cane. Wei Ying sighs and reaches for the grenadine.

“Wei Ying, you son of a bitch.” The voice is high, reedy, and cackling. “How the hell are ya?”

“A-Qing,” Wei Ying calls mildly. “You can’t be here.”

“Where is here?” she yells, as always. “How am I supposed to know that? Can’t you tell I’m blind?”

“Get out of my bar.”

“Discrimination!” She makes her way across the room, purposely bumping into every occupied table on her way over, just to slosh beer onto the floor.

“You’re fourteen.” He has her cherry soda on the bar by the time she hops up on the stool next to Jiang Cheng, ignoring him entirely.

“And how do you know that, creepy old man?”

“You made me get you a cake for your birthday, you goblin.”

“Who’s this guy?” She takes a long slurping suck from her straw.

“My didi.”

“You—!” Jiang Cheng hates it, which is the only reason Wei Ying says it.

“Ooh, the famous Jiang Cheng. I bet he looks real grumpy.”

“Yep.”

Jiang Cheng flips him off. He grins and goes back to wiping down the drain.

“He just flipped you off, didn’t he?”

“Yep.”

“Nice.” She finishes her drink and slams the glass down. “Double vodka please.”

“Nope.”

“I drink vodka all the time.”

“Don’t care. I’m not getting fired over your sorry ass. Go drink at home.”

“I’m not allowed vodka at the home.”

“And you’re not allowed here either.” He drops the rag back into the sanitizer and leans his elbows on the bar. “Now, are you here with something interesting or just to pester me?”

Jiang Cheng looks like he’s about to interject, but Wei Ying waves him off.

“I can multitask,” A-Qing says before pushing her glass back across the bar. “More sugar first.”

“Diabetes on the rocks, yes madam.”

She takes a long slurping pull, and he folds his arms, waiting. 

“Got a new TV at the home. Real big one.”

“A-Qing, I’m waiting.”

Jiang Cheng squints at her. “How do you know how big the TV is?”

“I just know, okay. Anyway. One of the older kids got it. Bought it himself.”

“Yeah, right,” Wei Ying says. He needs to challenge her if she’s going to give him the whole story. If he seems too interested she’ll draw it out just to fuck with him.

“He did. Wen Changming.”

“A Wen?” Jiang Cheng asks.

Wei Ying rolls his eyes. “Lots of Wens in the children’s home. I wonder why.”

Jiang Cheng makes a sour face at him.

“He’s got cash to burn, suddenly. Pockets full.”

“Gee, I wonder how you found that out.”

A-Qing grins at him. “He’s not gonna miss it. He’s in the club now.”

“The club?”

“You know, the club. What do you call it? Do crimes, get money.”

“Mob? Syndicate? Criminal organization?” Jiang Cheng offers.

“So they’re recruiting at the home, that’s what you’re telling me? Is it Xue Yang?”

A-Qing blows bubbles in her soda. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“Must be desperate.”

“You do the same thing.”

“I do not.”

She holds out a hand. He sighs and passes over a couple of bills. 

“You staying there tonight?” he asks, all casual.

“Maybe. The girls are annoying. Should be nice outside.”

“Starting to get cold.”

“Not really. Only if you’re a pussy.”

“You call me if you need to crash. Here.” He drops a couple of coins in front of her. “I’ll be home after midnight.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she says, pocketing the change. She gives a little salute and hops off her stool. “So long, Wen Ning!” she shouts, walking right at him and making him hop out of the way.

She’s not really blind, of course. Wei Ying’s never brought it up—he knows, but he’s not sure she knows that he knows. One of the nights she crashed at his apartment, months ago, he caught her reading through one of his binders of old clippings—‘91, back before the start of the war, when he was still in Gusu. It kind of kills him, because he wants to ask her what she thought of them. What she remembers from back then, if there’s anything. But they don’t talk about anything serious, not if they can help it.

“Please tell me you don’t have a teenage girl staying at your place,” Jiang Cheng says. Wei Ying gives him a great sigh and grabs his rag again.

“Only when she's got no other place to go. Oh, I have a futon now! You’d see it if you ever came over.”

“Wow, great, you're thirty years old and you have a secondhand futon. Mother would be so proud.”

“I didn't say it was secondhand.”

“Wei Ying, trust me, you do not need to.”

 (Four pints.)

Wei Ying makes a face at him. “So mean.”

“It’s weird that she stays with you.”

Wei Wuxian sighs again. “Jiang Cheng.”

“It is. It’s weird.”

“If it’s a bad night at the home then she sleeps outside. I don’t like her sleeping outside, so she stays with me. When she’s not being ornery.”

“She’s a teenage girl.”

“She’s a baby.”

“Not your baby. Why would she sleep outside anyway? Yiling sucks.”

“The home sucks. Look, it’s an orphan thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

Jiang Cheng pouts. “Hey, I’m an orphan.”

“No you’re not, you’re a grown up.”

(Whiskey, neat.)

“You’re a grownup. My parents are dead; I’m an orphan.”

“Then everyone’s a fucking orphan in this country. The word’s lost all meaning. From now on, if your parents were alive when you were ten, you’re not an orphan. Find a new word, leave ours alone.”

“You’re such a jackass.”

“Jackass! Yes, that’s a good word.”

Jiang Cheng sighs and gets off his stool. He tosses cash down on the bar, though Wei Ying tries to wave him off.

“Oh, you’re going to want to get a flag up in here,” he says, off-hand as he turns to go. 

Wei Ying freezes. “Excuse me?”

“Coming down from on high, it’s going to be a new ordinance. To keep the liquor license.”

“The fuck does a flag have to do with our liquor license?”

Jiang Cheng holds up his hands. “I’m just the messenger.”

“I’m not letting the Sunshot flag through these doors.”

Jiang Cheng turns back to him, serious. “Look, I know you have your own . . . feelings—”

“Feelings?” he almost spits, spreading his hands out on the bar.

Jiang Cheng winces and does not look at them. “You have your reasons, I’m not arguing that. But Yiling’s a part of the Republic and people need to get used to it. You don’t have to like it, but your district rep is going to announce the policy in the next week, and I don’t want to see you— Don’t go out of your way to make life difficult, all right? It’s hard enough already.”

Wei Ying says nothing, just leans back and watches the rag twist and untwist between his hands.

“See you Saturday,” Jiang Cheng offers, hesitates, then leaves.

Wei Ying will close up. They close early, still, kick everyone out before midnight. Old habits. He’ll go home and work on his column, the one corner of the paper Wen Qing leaves for whatever he wants. (Literally, the column is called “Whatever.”) Maybe A-Qing will find a pay phone and call him, if she hasn’t spent or hidden the change, or maybe she’ll just show up and lean on the buzzer until he lets her in. He’ll sleep better, if she’s there. He was never meant to live alone.

And he’ll wake up tomorrow, and try to do it all again.

Part Two

[impala-dreamer]

Hunger

SPN FanFic

~The Mark of Cain is starving for attention and Dean feeds it what, and when he can.~

Demon!Dean x Reader

3,250 Words

Warnings: NSFW! Demon!Dean. Smut. Rough, rough sex. Stripping. Filming of Sex. Masturbation. Deep Throat Fucking. Breath Control/Play. Rough Intercourse. Dean's a dick.

A/N: This is for my "Filming Sex" square on @spnkinkbingo​ 2020. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think ;)

2020 KinkBingo Masterlist ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ Find My Original Works on Amazon

Dean walked out of the bar, leaving Crowley and his idiot minions behind. Last thing he needed was to be told what to do. He was too powerful and gave too few fucks now for that to be a thing. No one was gonna tell him what to do. Not ever again.

The brand on his arm ached constantly since he had been reborn, but he’d learned to ignore it, only letting the urge spike when he was in the mood or around a particularly annoying asshole that deserved to die. It wasn’t as if he just walked around dropping bodies, he still had some class. But, if he happened upon a douche that was asking for it...

That was how it went. Blood and more blood. Knuckle bruises fading, open wounds closing themselves. He was unstoppable. Fucking. Unstoppable.

But he was hungry.

Not the kind of hunger that could be soothed with a stop at a diner and topped off at a strip club. Dean was hungry for something familiar, something delicious and submissive, and wet.

The craving started when he realized where he was. Roads all looked the same and since he had no destination in mind, he just drove, ending up where he ended up. The white lines on the asphalt had been his friend and lead him right to her door.

Y/N would remember him, had to. He sure as fuck remembered her.

He remembered where her spare key was, too. Dean was careful to step around the devil’s trap that was painted underneath the weathered doormat on the porch as he reached for the key hanging behind the old window’s shutter. She might have grown up in The Life, might know how to keep ghosts out of her house, the common demon, but leaving a key right by her front door?

Dean shook his head and unlocked the door. “Imma have to talk to her about that.”  

All it took was a quick hop over the mat and he was in.

The house was small like he remembered and just as cluttered. Still smelled like cloves, too. Well, that wasn’t gonna protect her from what he had in mind.

Somewhere down the hall a clock was ticking, a gentle click every second giving the place a rhythmic measure to fall asleep to. Dean’s footsteps fell on every other click; thick tread of his boots and heavy feet dropping onto the hardwood with an ominous thud.

Y/N was sleeping, lying on her back, empty face awash in the faint red light from her alarm clock. The thin sheet barely covered her, flowing like silk over each curve, tucked tight beneath her left knee. She breathed slowly; firm breasts rising and falling every fifth tick of the clock.

Dean slipped inside her room, silent and bathed in shadow. He looked around as she slept, unaware of his approach, not sensing anything as the air began to warm with his presence. Dean smiled as she rolled in her sleep, corner of the sheet dropping away to reveal a set of pale blue flannel pajamas.

“Always so cozy, Y/N/N,” he murmured, not bothering to keep his voice down.

She stirred, eyes fluttering wildly as Dean stepped up to the foot of the bed.

“Wakey wakey.”

She stretched and rubbed at her eyes with a tired hand. “Who’s there?” Her voice was caked with sleep, throat scratchy from hours of non use.

“Here there, Sweetheart.” His smile was dangerous but true. He had missed her; missed her heavy breaths as he clawed at her flesh, the muted whimpers as she screamed into her pillow. His stomach growled and The Mark ached as she blinked into the shadows, trying to place his silhouette and raspy voice.

“Dean?” Still groggy, she sat up and turned on the lap by her bedside, setting the room aglow. She was startled but glad to see him, instantly flashing a confused smile. “What are you doing here? How’d you get in?”

Dean chewed on his bottom lip for a second and let it slide back out slowly. “Yeah, about that-” He flicked his left hand and dropped the spare key between her knees on the bed. “You really need to hide that better. Never know who could just waltz in here.”

Y/N scooped up the key and clutched it in her fist. “Kinda like… an ex boyfriend?”

A smug laugh filled the room. “Yeah. One of those.”

The key fell onto the nightstand with a faint clank.

“So, what brings you to my bedroom in the middle of the night, Dean? You know I still have a cell phone, a few actually. It’s considered polite to call, especially after not calling for almost three years.”

Dean scratched at his jaw. “Yeah, about that-”

A click of her tongue interrupted him; her annoyance clear. “I heard you were dead. Sam dropped off the map, then suddenly everyone was back in action. Imagine my surprise when I didn’t get a phone call.”

“Well, Sam, hit a dog…”

Y/N rolled her eyes and threw back the blanket, tossing her feet over the side of the bed. “Ya know what? I don’t care.” Her bare feet sank gently into the carpet. “It was nice to see you, but… Get the fuck out of my house.”

Dean dipped his chin and looked up at her with big green eyes. “I just wanted to see you, Y/N/N, didn’t mean to piss you off.”

She softened but held her ground. “You just wanted to see me in the middle of the night in my bedroom? Come on, Dean.”

He moved closer, rounding the bed, big steps leading him to her side in a fraction of a second. “Well, I thought it would be rude to say I came to get some.”

She laughed and bit her lip as she looked away. “There’s the jerk I remember.”

Dean lifted his fingers to her cheek and surprisingly, she didn’t flinch away. “So…” He smirked and nodded towards the bed. “Shall we?”

Y/N took a step back and raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? You break into my house-”

“I used the key.”

“-sneak into my bedroom-”

“I wasn’t that quiet. You’re a heavy sleeper.”

“-and now you’re like “hey baby, let’s do it”, and I’m supposed to what, rip my clothes off and suck your dick?”

Dean frowned as he thought up the scenario in his head, nodding when he decided it was good. “Yeah?”

The urge to slap him in his smug face was stopped only by the big thumb that traced her jaw. Y/N shivered, her eyes closing as memory washed over her. He was a good fuck, a good man, the best- but still.

“Get out,” she grit. “Now.”

The hand on her cheek dropped and Dean smacked his lips, looking slightly dejected. “You sure?”

She held her breath as he leaned closer, just tipping his chest towards her. She could smell his heat; the old familiar scent of the Impala and coffee lingering on his clothes. It was almost thick around him, that faint hint of aftershave, the cheap motel soap, the musk of him. Y/N’s head swam with thoughts of kissing him, of reaching up and pressing herself against him; breasts smashed against that hard, flanneled chest, tongues stroking with electric waves against each other. She closed her eyes and suddenly it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Dean closed the gap and gently placed his lips against hers, pushing just enough to catch her breath but staying back should she want to fight him off. Her right mind said to bring her knee up hard between his bowed legs, but her sleepy, dreamy, hazy brain said to open her mouth to him.

“That’s it,” he hummed as she wrapped a soft hand around the back of his neck. “You still taste so sweet.”

“And your breath still stinks,” she laughed, digging her nails into the base of his skull. He hissed and she licked at his mouth.

“Not that you care.” He pushed back then, swirling his tongue between her lips and stepping forward, forcing her back onto the bed. They sank together, Y/N’s legs opening automatically to make room for him. He rocked upwards, cock already half hard and pressing against his jeans. She moaned as the rough zipper rubbed through her pajamas, grinding up on her cunt.

“Fuck.” She breathed into his hair, face raising to the ceiling as his lips trailed down her throat; pearly teeth scraping over her pulse and nipping at her shoulder.

His voice was dry and cracked in her ear. “That was my plan.”

A giant hand closed over her left breast and Y/N’s entire body arched upwards, wanting to pull him deep inside, feel all of him. She moaned and called his name like a prayer. “Dean. Please.”

He was gone before she knew what happened, the mattress bouncing as his weight vanished.

“What the fuck?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes once more, this time clearing away the dampness of arousal. “Where are you going?”

Dean opened the buckle of his belt as he walked around the perimeter of the bed. “Just wanted a new angle.” He turned with a smirk and popped the brass button of his jeans.

Y/N smiled in a daze as she watched him move around, slowly finding the foot of the bed again. “How about you take those off and let me say hello?” She rolled onto her hands and knees and locked her eyes on his crotch; mouth watering at the idea.

“No.”

She looked upwards, a pout and confusion on her face. “W-why not?”

The tip of his tongue fit between his teeth and his smile was filled with devilish intent. He took his time answering, looking slowly around the room until he found something to play with: her old camcorder was tucked away on a shelf behind him.

Y/N watched curiously as he picked it up and blew the dust from its top. “What are you doing?”

He smiled as the power came on, and Dean trained the eye on Y/N. “Strip for me,” he said, voice deep as he hit record.

Her heart raced as the tiny red light came on, making her blush. “What? No.”

Green eyes lifted from the screen to her face. “Strip.”

The command was absolute and struck some chord deep inside; arousal pulsing in her cunt. “Yeah,” she said softly, “yeah, OK.”

Up on her knees in the middle of the bed, Y/N bit her lip as she opened the tiny buttons on her pajama top, careful not to reveal too much at once, wanting to give him a show.

Dean’s eyes flickered between the screen and real life; lips twitching with excitement as she got more into it, playing to the camera, exposing herself for him.

“Like this?” she asked, kicking the soft pants from her legs.

“Perfect.” He zoomed in, framing her body. “Lay back.”

Y/N swallowed deeply as she leaned back against the pillows. Sleep and his voice rang through her head, hitting every button inside, turning her on more than she thought possible. Without realizing it, Y/N had lifted a hand to her breast, slowly swirling her fingers across her stiffening nipples. Every pass made her shiver, but she remained frozen; eyes locked on Dean.

“That’s it,” he praised in a whisper, “such a good girl.”

Y/N hummed happily, her eyes closing a bit; sleepy and dazed. Her knees opened timidly as the heat grew; her left hand lazily drifting downwards.

“Yeah,” Dean urged. “Play with that pretty cunt for me. Show me how wet you can get.”

“Real wet,” she replied like a zombie, voice almost gone, breath heavy. “So wet, Dean.”

He grinned and zoomed in, capturing the slow press of her fingertips against her clit. Her skin glistened, damp and delicious. “Is that all for me?”

Y/N nodded helplessly and slid her middle finger deep inside, knuckles disappearing into her tight flesh. “Yeah. For you.”

Dean stared hard, cocking his head as she fucked herself for the camera, for him. He let the image burn into his brain so that every blink left him with a reminder of her perfect cunt.

When she began to moan, fingers working faster, legs shaking with effort, Dean called to her, stepping back from the bed.

“Enough. Come here.”

Y/N sat up almost automatically, hands dropping to the mattress as she rolled over and crawled to him, her chin up towards the camera, her eyes rolling, pussy juices dripping down her legs.

Dean unzipped his jeans and let them fall, stopped only by the tops of his boots.

“Flip over,” he ordered, yanking his boxers down. “Head over the side.”

Y/N held her breath as she got into position, back flat on the bed, neck stretching parallel to the floor as her head hung down over the edge.

Dean fisted his cock and pumped a few times, watching the pulse in her exposed throat beat faster. “Perfect. Open up.”

He aimed the camera downwards, immortalizing the moment he slid inside her waiting lips. She moaned happily as he pushed deep inside, watching as his cock passed down her throat, pushing at her delicate skin from the inside out. She choked as her neck bulged, and Dean thrust harder.

“Fuck, so deep.” His hips snapped against her forehead, shaking her entire body as he fucked her mouth without care.

She lost her breath as he went deeper; spit rolling down her cheeks, thicker with every push of his thick cock. When her lungs began to protest, she tried to scream, to warn him, but all that came out was a meek whine. She clawed at the sheets, then his hips, digging her nails into the dips of his waist, begging for a break.

The camera shook as Dean bent over, hooking one foot on the bed and dipping down deep. The new angle allowed her a single breath, but no true relief as her lips began to swell and her throat went numb around him.

“So good, Sweetheart,” he growled, pulsing the tip of his dick between her puffy lips. “My own little pornstar. Taking my cock like a pro.”

A final cry pushed up from the back of her throat and Dean showed an ounce of mercy, pulling free of her tight mouth with a wet pop. He zoomed close on the red mess that was her lips; cheeks stained by lines of spit, jaw sore and hanging.

“So beautiful.” He stood up and let the lens trail down her naked body. “Think I’ll wreck that pussy next. Scoot up, spread your legs.”

Invisible strings moved her body; Y/N couldn’t consciously decide to move a muscle, but she went, setting her ass in the middle of the bed, giving her neck a rest against the soft comforter.

Dean placed the camera back on the shelf, careful to aim it perfectly at the bed. “Now, let’s get down to business.”

Y/N lay there, waiting, drifting, empty. She felt the bed dip as Dean crawled over her, felt the heat from his now bare chest as it pressed down onto her. His lips were hot on her ear. His breath heavy, voice rough.

“Smile pretty for the camera, girl.”

She held in a scream as Dean pushed away, up on his knees as he thrust into her, thick cock stretching her open. She tensed at the pain and he smiled, green eyes blinking to black.

“Dean!” Fright and confusion ran through her veins and she pushed at his arms, trying to get away. “What the fuck!”

The oil slick remained as Dean fucked her harder, one giant hand pinning her wrists together above her head, the other closing over her mouth. “Shhh.” He smirked. “Thought you knew, Sweetheart. Haven’t been keeping up with the gossip much, I see.”

Y/N bit down hard on his palm and he flinched, pulling away. “Exorcizamus te!”

Dean laughed and wrapped his long fingers around her throat, cutting off her words. “That ain’t gonna work,” he sneered, leaning close so his breath flowed over her lips. “I’m not possessed. Just better.”

She gasped, eyes wide and unfocused. “Dean!”

His grip loosened but his thrusts did not ease, ramming into her without pause or finesse. He set his eyes on the lens as they flipped back to pure green; playing for the camera, upper lip pulled back into a sneer as her body tightened around him.

“Oh, gonna cum for me?” His laugh was dark, his fingers bruising her skin wherever they fell. “Can’t help it, can you?”

Y/N shook her head in protest, but couldn’t resist, hips rising to meet every push, bliss growing like a firecracker in her gut. “Please...harder.”

Dean laughed and let her hands go as he readjusted, holding himself up above her. “That’s my girl.”  

“Fuck!” The fire would not hold and Y/N came with a scream, entire body shaking as the pleasure ran upwards, blanking out any care of the danger that fucked her senseless.

Dean grunted as she clenched down on him. “Oh, just like that. Fuck.”

He moved impossibly faster, slamming into her so hard each pop took her breath away. He tore into her, not relenting until he pulled another orgasm from her. Her eyes rolled and her legs fell weak against his thighs.

With a growl, Dean pulled out and fisted his cock, watching her heaving chest as he pumped himself. “Don’t move.”

She moaned, head lolling to the side as he came, spraying hot and creamy white against her belly and tits.

When he was done, Dean leaned down and scooped up his mess with two fingers, bringing it to her lips. “Clean yourself up.” He shoved his hand into her mouth and she licked, mindlessly sucking him clean, swallowing him down. “That’s fucking hot as fuck, Y/N. Makes me wanna go again.”

She moaned pitifully, spent and trapped beneath him.

“But...nah.”

Suddenly, he was gone and the cold air washed across her body. “W-where are you going?” She tried to turn, but her body ached; every bit of her exhausted and limp.

“Why the fuck should I tell you?” he asked, half amused by her question.

“I- Dean...what happened to you?”

He laughed to himself as he zipped up and tossed the flannel over his shoulders. “Long story,” he said absently, “and I don’t feel like stickin’ around for the pillow talk.”

“Dean-”

He ignored her, reaching into the camcorder to take out the tape. “Here,” he said, tossing the mini film onto her stomach. “Something to remember me by.”

She rolled over just in time to see him open the door, slipping back into the dark hallway just as quietly as he came. “Dean!”

The roads were all the same; white lines and black top, bit of debris kicking the tires. Dean drove fast and reckless beneath the bright moon, not a care in his head, no destination in mind.

His stomach growled and he searched the exit sign for a rest stop.

The Mark burned but he ignored it. He’d find some shithead to sink his blade into before the sun came up, of that he was sure. But for now- a burger would do.

2020 Forever Tags:

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[frozenartscapes]

A continuation of part one. Edelgard begins to experience modern Fodlan, and has many questions.

-- -- --

So this...was a “car”?

Edelgard stared at the metal contraption before her, head tilted slightly to one side. “I don’t...understand,” she said after a moment, “Is it like a carriage?”

“Sort of,” Byleth replied, “Only it drives itself.”

Another head tilt, this time in the other direction. “How does it do that?”

“Uh... To be honest, explaining it simply would be a bit of a challenge. I’m not much of a mechanic,” Byleth said sheepishly.

“A...mechanic?”

“You know what? Why don’t we get going and I’ll start answering while we drive.”

Edelgard awkwardly settled into the passenger seat of Byleth’s car, her antiquated armour and battledress making things a little difficult. It took a few more minutes for Byleth to teach her about a seatbelt and why it was necessary.

“We never had such precautions when we rode horses. Or wyverns.”

“Yeah, but even wyverns don’t fly as fast as cars.”

Eventually they were off, and the ride was painfully silent. Though it wasn’t because of any kind of animosity. Edelgard was too busy staring out the windows, quietly gasping in amazement as they drove through the city toward Byleth’s downtown apartment.

“If we hadn’t met in the palace, I would never believe you if you told me this was Enbarr,” Edelgard said eventually, as they drove down the main boulevard that was lined with all kinds of high-end shops and restaurants. It was the end of the week, and the nightlife was only just ramping up. People from all backgrounds were flocking to various entertainment venues for a fun night out. It was a far cry from the Enbarr the Emperor had known.

“I guess it has changed quite a lot,” Byleth admitted as they pulled up to an intersection.

Edelgard frowned in confusion. “Why are we stopping?”

“Because the light’s red.”

Edelgard glanced up at the light in question. “So it is, but... It doesn’t appear that anyone else is moving through the intersection. Can we not go?”

“No. Because the light’s red.”

“I fail to see why a simple light would have such power.”

Byleth let out a tired sigh. “It’s just...how traffic works now. Trust me: if you saw this light during rush hour, you’d appreciate the control way more.”

“...Rush hour?”

The light mercifully turned green, and Byleth allowed the subject to drop. Edelgard was once again preoccupied with taking in the sights of the city, marvelling especially at the tall condo and office towers. That’s when Byleth remembered the radio.

“Hey, I have something to show you,” she said, reaching for the power button on the dashboard. The radio flicked to life, softly playing a talk show station Byleth had been listening to that morning.

Edelgard’s eyes lit up like a child seeing snow for the first time. “What is this?” she breathed, leaning in to better inspect the radio.

Byleth chuckled. “Try it out. This dial here tunes it, so you can switch between stations. And this one is for the volume. Careful with that one: it can get pretty loud in here. All the numbered buttons are stations I’ve saved.”

Edelgard tentatively turned the tuning dial, gasping in pleasant surprise when the radio switched to playing some classical music. Byleth couldn’t help but grin as she watched the fearsome Emperor messing about with a car radio, fully and un-ironically engrossed in the technology.

She spent the rest of the trip like that, and the way she struggled to hide her disappointment when the radio turned off with the car brought another grin to Byleth’s face. “Just wait until you discover the TV,” Byleth teased as she led the Emperor toward the elevator.

“I can tell you are clearly enjoying yourself,” Edelgard commented coolly, “I’m glad my curiosity is somewhat entertaining.”

“Sorry,” Byleth said gently, “I guess it’s just...strange. Seeing you like this.”

The elevator doors opened with a ding, catching her attention once more. “Doors that open on their own?” she wondered, “What sort of magic is at play here?”

“No magic, just...technology,” Byleth explained. She headed into the elevator, and Edelgard hesitantly followed. She pressed the button for her floor, and the doors closed. The elevator lurched - it always did, they really needed to fix that - and Edelgard latched onto her arm almost instinctively. A blush spread across the Emperor’s face, and she quickly stepped away in embarrassment.

“S...so...” she stammered, tucking one strand of hair behind her ear as she desperately avoided eye contact, “Why did we purposely trap ourselves in this tiny room? And why does it feel like it’s moving?”

“It’s an elevator. It’s taking us up to the floor my apartment’s on,” Byleth told her, “And before you ask: no, there’s no magic involved here, either. This one’s a giant metal cable attached to this box, and it’s pulled and lowered by a giant mechanism on the top of the building.”

“...And...how high up is this floor we’re going to?”

“It’s the fourteenth.”

“...I don’t know how high that actually is but you’re telling me the thing keeping this box from crashing to the ground below is one measly cable?”

“Well, technically the cable’s not measly. And there’s a failsafe installed in every elevator, making it impossible for them to fall, even if the cable breaks.”

Edelgard was staring at her like she had grown a second head.

“Ok, elevators freaked me out at first, too. But trust me: this totally beats taking the stairs.”

The elevator doors opened, and Byleth led the way to her apartment. Upon opening the door, they were met with a cozy space. A small hallway led down to the living room, the kitchen was just off to the left, a closet to the right. There were a few dishes left piled in the sink, some books left scattered around, clothes draped over the back of the couch.

“Heh, sorry,” Byleth said sheepishly, “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Edelgard glanced around at the strange new setting. Her eyes settled on the large windows in the living room, her feet taking her over without even realizing it. Byleth followed, watching closely. The Emperor gazed over her former home, seemingly sprawling in every direction as far as the eye could see. The sun had just set, with a few traces of twilight still in the inky sky. But the city had become alive in the darkness, millions of lights from windows and streets forming a completely new metropolis.

“The view’s even better from out here,” Byleth offered, sliding the balcony door open and gesturing out.

Edelgard seemed hesitant, but she wordlessly followed and stepped out onto the balcony, moving to the railing as she once more took in the sights with an unreadable expression. Eventually though, her eyes trained downward, and she realized just how tall fourteen floors really was. “Oh Goddess, we’re high,” she gasped backing as far from the railing as she could get.

Byleth chuckled. “Believe it or not, there’s still another ten floors to this building, too,” she said lightly.

“How were they able to construct a building so tall?” Edelgard demanded, “I don’t think even the tallest spire at Garreg Mach could reach this height.”

“No, it was...actually pretty short by today’s standards,” Byleth admitted, “They figured out how to build tall and skinny buildings by utilizing steel and concrete.” She paused. “Ok, I realize that probably doesn’t explain much. Just...just trust me: tall buildings like this are the norm now.”

“O...ok,” Edelgard stammered. Her eyes darted out to the view for a moment. “It...it is a nice view, but I think I’d like to go back inside now.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Byleth agreed, “Come on. I’ll show you the guest room.”

Byleth gave Edelgard a quick tour of the apartment, concluding in the second bedroom. Edelgard had been strangely quiet for the whole tour, and now stood awkwardly near the bed, glancing around the room with mild uncertainty. Byleth decided to give her a little space, so she headed out to the linen closet.

When she returned, Edelgard had taken a seat on the bed, and was staring down at her hands.

“Ok, so here are some towels. If you like, I can show you how to get a shower going. And I’ll grab some of my old clothes, too. If you’d like to change out of that dress,” Byleth stated, hoping her hospitality would help the Emperor adjust, “And are you hungry? I don’t really have a whole lot of food right now, but I can order something. Maybe some Almyran? Or Duscurian? Oh! I know a place that does really good Brigid-spiced chicken.”

Edelgard sighed, unable to meet Byleth’s eyes. “There are...many things I don’t understand,” she admitted, “I think...it’s all starting to hit me. But the strangest thing isn’t that I’ve been transported into the future.” She gulped nervously, and finally looked up. “It’s that you’ve been so kind to me.”

Something clamped around Byleth’s heart and refused to let go. She carefully headed over and took a seat on the bed next to the Emperor. “I’m...I’m sorry,” she said softly, “I suppose the change must feel quite sudden for you. But...I’ve had many years to think about what I did... How I treated you...”

“We were on opposing sides of a war. It seems like only a few hours ago I was waiting for your army to break down my door and for us to engage in our final battle,” Edelgard uttered, “It was, for me. I was prepared to die by your blade... And you were prepared to do it.”

Byleth grimaced. “I...did do it,” she confessed, running a hand through her hair to push her bangs out of her face, “I... Goddess, Edelgard, I... I split your skull open.”

“I suppose I should thank you for being quick about it,” Edelgard commented grimly, “I wonder if that’s why it seems I suddenly appeared here, as if nothing had happened.”

“You came here the moment you died...” Byleth muttered, “But...why?”

Edelgard frowned, clearly thinking about it. “I’m...not sure,” she eventually admitted, “This certainly wasn’t any trick of mine. By the time we fought, I just wanted to... Never mind.” She drew a deep breath, and Byleth could practically see her shoving those negative thoughts and emotions away. She cast Byleth a small smile, and said, “I’m just...glad it was you who found me, Professor.”

“I... Me too.” Byleth returned the smile with one of her own. She then got up, offering a hand to the Emperor. “Well, you probably want to get cleaned up. I’ll show you how to work the shower.”

“...Is there some sort of device that makes it rain indoors?”

“Well...sort of.”

-- -- --

“Ok, so you’ve got hot and cold water,” Byleth said, pointing to two nobs imbedded into the tiled wall, “You pull this little lever all the way up to turn on the shower. You kind of have to give it a good tug - it sticks sometimes.” She then motioned to the various bottles on the wall. “You can also use the shampoo and conditioner - make sure you use both, and in that order. I don’t know why, to be honest, that’s just how they make them. And soap is there.”

Edelgard followed along intently, still mesmerized by the strange room Byleth had led her to. The tub and sink were simple white, with silver fixtures that magically distributed water whenever it was desired. Byleth insisted it wasn’t magic, but... Come on. Something had to be magic in this world, right? There was also this strange, porcelain seat that Byleth had to awkwardly explain, too.

Eventually, Byleth left her alone for some privacy. And she was met with her first real challenge of this new world: taking a shower.

She hadn’t realized just how badly she had lost that fight until she started removing her mangled dress and armour. Her hair was practically tied to her crown, and it took a good twenty minutes just to be free of the heavy golden contraption. Removing the rest of her armour was easier, and it wasn’t long before she had stripped down to just her underclothes. She decided to wait until she got the shower working before discarding them, just in case she needed to call Byleth.

She turned one of the nobs on the wall, and water started to flow out of the large spout into the tub. She then tugged on the lever, and the water stopped. There was a beat, and then it started to flow out of another spout mounted higher on the wall, pouring out in multiple little streams as if it were a heavy downpour.

“Huh. So it does make it rain indoors,” she mused.

She then removed the rest of her clothing, and tentatively stepped into the shower.

COLD

She yelped in immediate surprise, and almost slipped on the smooth surface of the tub, only just managing to catch herself on the metal bar with a curtain suspended over the top. Probably for just such a purpose. She scooted away from the frigid water as much as she could.

What did Byleth say again? The other nob must be for the hot water. She bit her lip and lunged into the cold water, grabbing the hot water dial and cranking it as far as it would go.

There was a brief moment when the shower was perfect. Then...

HOT

She yelped again, once more fleeing the water before her skin began to burn.

Why in Sothis’ name would Byleth have such a torture device in her home? And supposedly use it regularly?

“Edelgard?” Byleth called after knocking on the door, “You ok in there?”

“Y...yes, my teacher!” she called back, too proud to admit this stupid shower was besting her.

“You have to balance the temperature,” Byleth shouted, “Don’t turn both nobs up all the way! Try just turning them both a little at a time until the water’s warm.”

Edelgard huffed, but set about it. Rather than diving back into the boiling water, she hopped out of the tub and approached from the side. Eventually, after much trial and error, she managed to get the water to an appropriate temperature.

And only then did she start appreciating it. To think: just having constant hot or cold water on demand! No servants or fire spells necessary. She could feel the warm water and steam washing away all the sweat and grime and blood from her body and it felt so relaxing.

She supposed it was time for to wash her hair. The shampoo bottle said it was fragranced to smell like cucumber and green tea, and was supposed to make hair shiny and soft. She followed the instructions carefully, and only cursed the stuff once when some of it got in her eye. She did the same for the conditioner, and before she was even out of the shower she could tell this stuff was going to do wonders for her hair. She had never felt it so sleek and smooth before.

She had at least experienced soap before, and found herself relieved to find something she was familiar with.

Once finished she turned the water off and reached for the towels Byleth had provided. She returned to her room to find Byleth had left a small pile of folded clothes on the bed. It felt...strange, to wear her old teacher’s clothes. But she had no desire to wear her dirty battledress again, so she reached for a shirt on the top of the pile.

Byleth had just ordered that chicken from the Brigidian food place, and was anxiously pacing back and forth in her living room, ears trained for any sign of distress. Nothing too catastrophic came from the bathroom, but Byleth still guessed she’d likely have to take a mop to it once Edelgard was done.

Speaking of, the former Emperor of Fodlan entered the living room, hair still wet but brushed and free from any intricate hairstyle. Byleth couldn’t hold back the smile spreading on her lips, though, much to Edelgard’s annoyance. The smaller woman was practically swimming in Byleth’s old clothes. The legs of the sweatpants bunched up around her feet, and the blue, red, and yellow sweatshirt was at least two sizes too big, with sleeves going well past her hands and it being so long it could count as a dress.

“Ok, we’ll go out clothes shopping for you in the morning,” she stated, still unable to stop her grin.

Edelgard nodded, glancing down at her new borrowed wardrobe. “I have to admit... These are strange clothes, even if they did fit me,” she said, “What does ‘GMU’ stand for?”

“Garreg Mach University,” Byleth replied, “I, uh, thought it was fitting.”

“So it’s a university now?” Edelgard wondered.

“Yeah, I was a prof there in another life. I wanted to try teaching again,” Byleth told her casually, “It’s...different when it’s actual academic stuff and not military training.”

Edelgard chuckled at that. “I can imagine... No offence, but you were never really good at that side of teaching,” she said.

“None taken. I know I was bad at all that school stuff. But I got better.”

They fell into somewhat of an awkward silence, Edelgard taking in some of the details of Byleth’s apartment she missed earlier, and Byleth unsure of where to go from there. Eventually, she gestured to the couch. “You’re welcome to take a seat!” she suggested, “Dinner’s on the way. But I can make us a snack in the meantime, if you like.”

“That...sounds nice, my Teacher,” Edelgard said as she hesitantly made her way over to the couch. As she got herself comfortable, Byleth headed into the kitchen to throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

It only just started popping when she noticed Edelgard in the kitchen entrance. She glanced at the microwave, that inquisitive stare back on her face. “Is that...”

“It’s not magic, I’m afraid,” Byleth said before the thought could be finished.

Edelgard frowned. “Is anything magic in this world anymore?” she asked, a hint of worry beginning to show through.

“Not really. Well, technically, yes,” Byleth said, “A lot of the technology nowadays was inspired by the magic we knew. Some of it even still uses magic, but not to the same degree we needed it before. It makes it more accessible, especially since not everyone was skilled in magic.”

“I...see...”

The popcorn finished up, then, and Byleth fished it out of the microwave. She dumped the bag into a large bowl, then offered it to Edelgard. “Well, here you go: your first modern food,” she said with a smile.

Edelgard glanced down at the popcorn with skepticism written all over her face. She delicately selected a single puffy piece from the bowl, eyes narrowing as she closely inspected it. Eventually, she finally popped it in her mouth.

Her eyes widened almost instantly. Byleth couldn’t hold back her laughter.

“You lied,” Edelgard breathed, taking another few pieces of popcorn eagerly, “This food is proof magic is still alive and well in Fodlan!”

[cheekysos]

Road to Nowhere

Best Friend! Luke Hemmings x Reader

Summary: Luke asks his best friend Y/N on a road trip. 

Warnings: Unrequited love, angst, minor swears

Author’s Note: Thank you for being patient with me the past couple of weeks. I’m still unsure about this piece honestly but I hope you enjoy it. Feedback is always very much appreciated, whether it be positive or constructive. Thank you for reading.

   You and Luke have been best friends ever since he moved to LA. When you first met him you were in a somewhat serious relationship and by the time you admitted to yourself your feelings for Luke he just met someone. You wallowed in self pity for quite some time before you forced yourself to move on, Luke seemed happy and you wanted to be happy too. When Luke was single again, you were a few months into a new relationship. This cycle has continued for the entirety of your guys’ friendship, the timing just never worked out. Not that it would have mattered, you knew your chances with Luke were slim to none. You two joked, laughed, cried, and confided in one another but there was something missing on his part. You could tell by the way he looked at you that he didn’t love you the way you loved him. He doesn’t look at your smile and instantly get butterflies, your laugh doesn’t send a shiver down his spine, and your touch doesn’t make it hard for him to breathe. Now here you are, single for almost a year and Luke is in what seems to be a very serious relationship and it’s eating you up inside. You wasted so much time ignoring and hiding from your feelings because you were too scared to lose your best friend. Now your feelings are so strong it’s difficult to ignore. 

  His current relationship was definitely putting a strain on your friendship. She wasn’t comfortable with it, you knew the second he introduced you to her. The way she scanned you up and down, like she was assessing your level of threat. She occupied most of his time and didn’t want you around much, she never came right out and said it but you could tell - basically everyone could except for Luke. It was little things like the way she touched him in front of you, like she was claiming him or how it took her months to “learn” your name. But you put up with it because you loved him, granted you were also in love with him as well but you respected their relationship and would never act on your feelings. Between touring and her Luke hasn’t had much time for you so when he called you and asked if you wanted to go on an impromptu road trip with no certain destination you didn’t hesitate. 

You packed enough clothes and toiletries for three days, that’s all the time off you could manage from work.  Luke arrived that morning with your favorite coffee in hand and looking as adorable as ever. He was dressed casually in blue jeans, T-shirt, and boots. 

  “You’re really going to wear jeans while we drive across the country?” You teased snagging the large cup of coffee out of his hand. 

  “Hey what’s wrong with my jeans?!” He asked defensively. 

  “Nothings wrong with them. I just meant they aren’t very comfortable.” 

   “Well thanks mom but I think I can dress myself.” He quipped.

   He stood in front of you with that stupid look on his stupid perfect face you loved so much. “So did you decide where you exactly were going?” You asked, spontaneity was not your strong suit. 

  “You pick, anywhere you want,” answered Luke.

You hesitated for a second, racking your brain for ideas. “Grand Canyon?”

“Whatever you want to see,” he flashed a sympathetic smile. What was going on?

“Seriously?” You asked. “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

“What a guy can’t spoil his best girl?” Luke had a tendency of saying things like this. Things that were obviously meant to be harmless but hurt you more than you’d like to admit because you knew he didn’t meant them, not how you wanted him to.  Luke helped you with your suitcase to his car and typed the coordinates into his GPS. While he did that you connected your phone to his car. Right after Luke asked you on this trip you started making a playlist for the occasion, of course a majority of the playlist was already assembled in a secret Luke playlist you already had. 

  “I hope you’re ready for this playlist, it’s going to blow your little rockstar brain.” Music is what immediately connected you to Luke. You guys didn’t have exactly the same taste and there were definitely songs and artists you disagreed on but his passion for it was contagious. He changed the way you consumed music, pushed you to listen to more than just lyrics and the beat. 

   “Excuse you I have a big rockstar brain thank you very much.” His hand rested on the back of your headrest as he backed out of the parking spot. It’s strange how Luke made everyday normal activities just effortlessly sexy. The way his seat had to be all the way back for his massive limbs to fit, how he gripped the steering wheel with one hand while the other rested on the gear shift, or the way the sun landed on his face and illuminated his sharp features. 

  Before you officially got on the road Luke stopped to fill up his car. “Here pay for the gas and grab some snacks,” he handed you his card. 

  You went inside and gathered an array of different snacks, candies and drinks. When you came out you saw Luke on the phone, at first you thought he was talking to her but he looked anxious and stressed while speaking. Maybe they were fighting, maybe that’s why he wanted to get away for a bit.  When you got closer to him he hung up the phone and returned the pump to it’s holster. 

“Let’s get the show on the road darlin’.” He faked a smile.

You were on route soon enough, Luke quietly snacking on the bag of chips you bought for him as he drove. You really didn’t want to pry and you hated asking him about her but it was obvious something was bothering him. 

   “You alright?” You questioned turning down the music. 

  He forced a smile, “All good. Just quietly regretting my decision to wear jeans. I wish someone would’ve told me not to.” 

  You playfully tossed a sour patch kid at his head. You knew that’s not what was bothering him but you didn’t pry.  After many hours of stupid car games, spontaneous singalong dance parties and a small cat nap on your part you couldn’t ignore the rumbling in your stomach any longer. 

   “Luke I need food and I’m tired.” You whined “I think we should call it a day, get some food and find a hotel.” 

  Luke rubbed at his 5 o’clock shadow. “Ya ok find a place nearby will ya?” 

  It took a little time but eventually you found a small bed and breakfast. “Take the next exit.” You instructed. 

  As Luke drove to the bed and breakfast you passed an In n Out. “Take a right!” you yelled. 

  Luke jerked the car into the turning lane, “the fuck Y/N! Scared the shit outta me.” 

   “In n Out! Need fries and a milkshake.” You exaggerate and pout your lip. 

  “You know I can’t say no to that pout.” Again, how could he not realize what he was saying to you? Could he be that oblivious?

  You went through the drive-thru and ordered way too much food for only two people and continued driving to the B&B. The Bed and Breakfast was a decent sized Victorian styled home, they probably couldn’t have more than five rooms. You stayed by the car, taking in the fresh air of a new state while Luke went inside to check for a room. 

  “Good news and bad news,” Luke said walking back to the car. “Got a room but it’s only got one bed, she’s got a cot though so she’s going to have it brought up to the room. I’ll take the cot.” Luke grabbed the luggage and you followed him with food and milkshakes in hand. The room was cozy, the main focus of the room was clearly the bed. This bed and breakfast most likely catered to couples looking for a quiet getaway and in any other situation it probably would have been romantic but not when you were with Luke and he was with her. 

  The two of you sat on the floor eating and catching up. Against your better judgement you asked about her, you were surprised to see his expression fall. 

   “I don’t want to talk about her, this trip is about us.” he said quietly. “Remember when we took that road trip to visit your parents?” he laughed. 

  “You mean the trip you agreed to take after being on tour for months leaving me to drive for HOURS while you slept the entire time?” you teased. 

  “Hey, It’s the thought that counts!” he defends. Things with Luke were great, back to how things were before.

  After spending a considerable amount of time reminiscing, the two of you got ready to go to bed. When Luke walked out of the bathroom he was dressed in only athletic shorts. You’ve seen Luke half naked plenty of time but it seemed like every time you saw him his shoulders were broader, his chest hair more dense, and his skin softer.

  “I-I’ll sleep on the cot Luke. There’s no way your lanky ass is going to fit. I don’t mind.” You tried deflecting with jokes.

“Ugh! How rude!” Luke played. “I am not lanky! And it doesn’t matter - that thing’s for children, neither of us are gonna fit on it. We’ll  just share” He tossed aside the extra throw pillows and pulled back the duvet. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” you hesitated. 

“It’s fine, just get in.” He turned off the lamp on his nightstand and tucked his extremities into bed, his back facing you. You followed his lead and got yourself situated on your side. You knew you should have turned around so your back was towards him but you just couldn’t bring yourself to look away. 

“Night Y/N.” he yawned. 

“Goodnight Lu.” As creepy as it sounded you spent some time watching his back, counting the times it rose and fell with each breath before he succumbed to sleep.  

  You woke up the next morning before Luke, he wasn’t a morning person in the slightest. After you finished getting ready and found Luke still in a deep slumber you figured the best way to wake him was a pillow to the face. After lots of whining and arguing the two of you were ready to get back on the road. Since Luke was still half asleep you offered to drive the rest of the way, which meant you spent most of the time in silence again, but you didn’t mind, you needed the time to think.   

  When you finally arrived at the Grand Canyon you and Luke stood there awhile speechless, taking in the beautiful scenery around you.  His arm suddenly snaked around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. You followed his suit and wrapped your arm around his waist. You felt completely content in this moment, for a second you could forget about everything and just relish in this the now. When you looked up at Luke tears were brimming in his eyes. You stood in front of him with both hands held onto his waist. 

“Hey...what’s the matter?” you pleaded.

“It's...I just. I’m just really happy to be here. To be with you, my best girl.” He pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapped around you tightly and he placed soft kisses on the top of your head. Your heart soared in this moment. Everything felt so perfect, it felt like there was an inkling of a possibility that Luke loved you back. As you pulled away from the hug, Luke tucked the stray hairs behind your ear. Your faces were closer than they’ve ever been, your foreheads pressed together, noses just barely touching. 

“I need to tell you something Lu..” There was no more denying your feelings. You couldn’t go on like this anymore you needed him to know, even if that meant that he didn’t feel the same about you. 

“Lemme go first.” he cut you off. “She gave me an ultimatum, you or her…” Your heart was in the back of your throat and your entire body was on fire. This was it, he was about to kiss you.

His calloused thumb brushed along your cheekbone, “I..I chose her.”

[falcon-eye]

So I’ve been writing on my phone and this one almost made me lose my shit because when initially hitting “copy” I accidentally hit “paste” and deleted the entire fucking thing. Thank GOD gmail keeps a copy of your notes. Holy shit.

Again made for @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU

Veko and Eloise’s domestic adventures continue! I’m so happy people actually like them! I’ve grown so close to them both. This will be part of their bigger story, because since I’ve been writing on my phone they’ve been really small and when I expound on them I want to add more details before all this, like about Veko and Hamra and all that. So consider these teasers I guess? That’s why the endings feel so abrupt. Or that’s the excuse I keep telling myself. I don’t know. But when I finally post everything it will be on AO3, and I may put these little ficlets on AO3 as a fic as well.

Anyway hope you enjoy this one! Veko and Eloise return!

——————

The next time Veko saw Eloise was just as bizarre as the first. Except this time, she ended up helping him as opposed to him saving her father again. It was, somehow, even more awkward.

It was a few weeks of a full year later. What was supposed to just be one kikimora turned into a while nest, and despite this, the alderman barely wanted to pay him what he said he would for the one kill, let alone a whole cluster of them. He wouldn’t even let Veko inside. Luckily it had almost literally just stopped raining. But it was getting to the point where Veko was having to take a few calming breaths between the arguing; the alderman was a miserable prick, but Veko didn’t want to snap on the guy.

“You take what I give ye an’ be done with it!” the alderman shouted, reaching for the dagger at his belt. “Or you’ll get no coin and—“

“Husband!” a woman’s voice rang out. Veko and the alderman jumped; fucking rain and yelling, making Veko’s senses dull. A small force practically ran into him from the side and wrapped a hand around his elbow. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Uh—“

“Eloise!” the alderman exclaimed. Oh shit, that’s where Veko knew her from! “Nothing t’ worry about, this Witcher was jus’ leaving.”

Eloise turned to Veko, pressing closer. “You were?” she asked, faking concern to apparently Veko’s ears only. “But darling, you just got here!”

Veko’s mind went totally blank. “Hello?” he said dumbly.

The alderman’s eyes narrowed. “What?” he hissed. “Eloise, this man—“

“Is my beloved,” Eloise cut in. The alderman’s mouth shut with an audible click. “Last year, don’t you remember? The Witcher that saved my father from those drowners!”

Veko continued to stare at her.

“But—“ the alderman stammered.

“Now what’s with all this shouting over here?” Eloise barreled on.

“I sent this Witcher here to kill the kikimora roamin’ about,” the alderman said.

Eloise gave Veko’s arm a little shake to snap him back into the conversation. “I, uh,” he stammered. “It wasn’t just one. There was a whole nest.”

Eloise clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped dramatically. “A whole nest!” she exclaimed, drawing the attention of the townspeople nearby. “My goodness! I’m so glad it’s been taken care of! Oh, Lennart, I don’t know what we would have done had a whole nest of those beasts descended upon the town!”

People were starting to whisper. The alderman—Lennart’s heart rate sped up. “Oh, well yes, I, eh, was good indeed.” He looked like he was trying to both glare at Veko and keep the shock of Eloise’s outburst off his face at the same time—and failing.

Eloise finally let go of Veko and took the alderman’s hands. “Do you need help with the coin?” she asked innocently. “For the additional kikimora? I know things have been difficult since Nora left—“

“I can handle it!” Lennart exclaimed, eyes darting around at the growing mass of people who’d come to hear about the monsters. The alderman patted Eloise’s hands and laughed nervously. “I mean, that’s alright dear! I-I’ve plenty of coin for the Witcher here! Let me—I’ll go get it.”

Lennart raced back into his house and the crowd of people began to disperse, clearly boring of the now dwindling conversation. Veko was still not sure what the fuck just happened. But before he could ask, the alderman burst back outside and practically threw a pretty hefty sack of coin into Veko’s hands.

“Splendid!” Eloise exclaimed, and then turned to Veko one more. “Shall we go, darling?”

Veko nodded, letting himself be led away, once again, by this bizarre woman. But just before Lennart went back inside, Veko turned to him, held up the bag of coin, and winked. Lennart turned an ugly red and slammed the door behind him.

“Fucking weaselly prick,” Eloise hissed. Veko guffawed.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Where did you even come from? How did you find me? What—what the hell was that?!”

Eloise held up a hand and ticked answers off her fingers. “I was in town putting an order for paints in, saw your horse tied to a tree near the edge of town, and Lennart is a right prick but easy to exploit because of it. His wife Nora left a few weeks ago with some adventurer who came through town. She knew he’d been trying to bed any girl in sight and rightfully left.”

Veko pocketed the bag of coin. “Well I’m not going to complain,” he said.

Eloise tucked her hand into the crook of his arm again. “Are you planning on staying?” she asked. “Papa says it’s supposed to rain; he can feel it in his knees, he says.”

Veko started itching at his burns. “I, uh—“

“Right, coming with me then.”

Veko laughed again and Eloise guide the way.

——————————————————

For having apparently acquired Eloise and her home, this was the first time Veko had actually been inside. It was cozy, the walls painted a pale pink and yellow. The kitchen was warm and smelled amazing, Eloise having apparently left something cooking while she’d been out.

Peering into the next room, the apparent main room of the house, Veko found bottles of paints and an assortment of brushes set up at an easel against the far window (splattered in paint); blank canvases were piled behind it. But actually giving the room a look-around, his attention was immediately drawn to the walls lined floor to ceiling with the most beautiful paintings Veko had ever seen.

Landscapes of what Veko recognized as the local stream and the goat paddock out back, faces he didn’t recognize but could have started up a conversation with him with how real they looked, random assortments of everyday items put together to make some interesting structure—there was art everywhere.

Veko didn’t realize he was gaping until he heard Eloise chuckle. “Like what you see?” she asked.

“They’re amazing,” Veko replied, reaching towards a painting of a young boy.

“Don’t touch!” Eloise snapped; Veko jumped. “Sorry, sorry, they’re just—when they dry the colors fade of you touch them.”

“Sorry,” Veko said, shoving his hand into his pocket.

Eloise shook her head. “It’s always been a dream of mine to be a famous painter. Sometimes I get commissions or sell some in Oxenfurt. There’s a man who comes by to take them to market every now and then. Anyway, apparently my father went to bed early,” she said. “Stew?” Eloise chuckled. “I can paint a delicious meal but actually cooking it, eh...”

Now it was Veko’s turn to laugh. “I’d love some, whatever it tastes like,” he said. “And—thank you, for that shit with the alderman.”

Eloise waved him off. “Honestly? Bringing you up has been doing wonders around here,” she said.

As Veko sat down at the table, he remembered: “Did you call me husband?”

“How long ago was that and you’re just realizing that now?”

“In my defense, you came out of nowhere!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be this great warrior with heightened senses?”

Instead of answering, Veko leaned forward and smirked. “You think I’m great?”

Eloise stared at him for a moment before scoffing and shoveling a spoonful of soup into her mouth. “A great pain in my arse,” she said, “and you’ve only been here five minutes.”

“Might I remind you that you’re the one who dragged me here.”

“Yeah, because you looked like a bloody kicked puppy when I asked!”

“Kitten.”

Eloise blinked. “What?”

Veko tapped his medallion. “I’m from the School of the Cat, so I’d be a kitten.”

There was a moment of silence before Eloise let out a ‘PFFFT!’ and burst out laughing. “Did you really just—“

“I can leave right now!” Veko exclaimed, but there was no heat behind it. Eloise’s laugh was loud and hoarse, hardly ladylike or cute, but for some reason Veko liked hearing it. He wanted to hear it again.

Eloise wiped tears from her eyes. “Just eat your stew, Witcher,” she said.

“Veko,” Veko said. “My name is Veko.”

“Veko,” Eloise repeated, like she was getting used to how it sounded. “Nice to officially meet you, husband.”

Veko started scratching his burns. “Oh gods.”

Eloise smacked his hand like she’d done last year. “Stop doing that,” she snapped. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“I’ve had it for fifteen years; I don’t think it’s going to get worse.”

Eloise was quiet. “How—? Never mind.”

“No, it’s ok,” Veko reassured her. “My brother and I got into a fight. Or something. I can’t remember. But it was an accident, either way.”

“Is your brother also a Witcher?”

Veko nodded, having just stuffed his face with stew again. “Yah,” he said, his mouth full. He swallowed. “Identical twins, actually. Though my hair’s longer and he’s a bit bulkier than I am. His name’s Hamra.”

“Veko and Hamra,” Eloise said, “twin Cat Witchers, huh?”

“Yes ma’am,” Veko replied. Over the course of the meal, Veko explained the basics about the Cats and their caravan, how they worked and why they occasionally split up. Eloise, for her part, only asking questions when he’d finished a story and let him talk most of the conversation. Normally, talking is what Veko was used to, but both times he’d been with this woman she’d shocked him into silence. It was nice to be comfortable again.

Night settled quickly and when they finished their respective meals, Eloise took both their bowls to wash. “I’m going to set a cot up for you,” she said over her shoulder.

“What, no bed?” Veko teased.

“Other than my father's bed, there’s only one other and it’s mine,” Eloise replied.

“Not enough room for husband and wife?”

Eloise suddenly turned serious. Without even turning to him she said, “I’ll not bed you, Witcher.”

Veko held his hands up in surrender, even though her back was still turned. “Ok,” he said softly. “Just messing around, sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you, truly.”

Eloise sighed deeply and finally turned to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just. I don’t want that. From anyone, ever. It’s—it’s hard to explain. Just thinking about... that... makes me... extremely uncomfortable.”

Veko nodded. “I understand,” he said. “I mean, I don’t, but I respect that.”

Eloise smiled. “Thank you,” she said.

“Is that why me being your husband is useful?” Veko asked; Eloise’s heart rate sped up. “I don’t have a problem with that!” he quickly assured her. “It’s just, last year you said something to that effect.”

Eloise looked him in the eye for a moment, maybe trying to assess if he was telling the truth? And then nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, that’s no problem here,” Veko said. “Gods know I only really come through this area once a year. I could swing by to keep up appearances.”

“And I could help you bleed Lennart dry of all his coin.”

Veko smirked. “I like the way you think.”

Eloise smirked back. “I think this is going to be a very successful partnership.”

[staywritten]

To Be Expected│Bang Chan

To Be Expected│Bang Chan

Synopsis: You sent your boyfriend to buy a pregnancy test, what could you possibly expect?

Genre: One shot, fluff, expecting parents

Word Count: 2412

Masterlist. AO3

This scenario also has absolutely nothing to do with my Dad!Chan series, this was just a one off idea and Chan’s my ult so I wrote about him again.

“Babe, which one am I supposed to buy?” Chris grumbled into his phone in English, taking salvation in hoping that the old man working couldn’t understand him. There was nothing more embarrassing than standing in a convenient store in the middle of the night looking at the various pregnancy test.

“I don’t fucking know Chris” you groaned pacing back and forth in your living room. “I haven’t done this before-just get all of them.”

“All? There’s like thirty different brands. Have you lost your mind?”

“Yes, Chris. Yes I have because SOMEBODY may have gotten me pregnant.”

“Don’t blame me for all of this, we’re a team. You’re equally responsible.” He sighed looking at the shelves “…Hmmm this should be fine right?” He shrugged, grabbing the more inexpensive of the brands. There was no way in hell he was going to leave this convenient store with only a pregnancy test. He grabbed chips, cookies, and drinks. Anything that’ll prolong the clerk from getting to the pregnancy test. “Babe, you want anythin?”

“Yes, I want to not be pregnant”

“Anything I can get you at the store?” he chuckled.

“Hmm maybe a bottle of soju?”

“How ‘bout somethin not harmful to the possible baby?”

“Good point... ice cream?”

“Deal” he smiled, tossing the ice cream on top and walking over to the counter. Fidgeting and clearing his throat as the clerk took out each and every item scanning and bagging them at arctic speeds. Luckily for him the old man wasn’t too talkative, but he did notice how he paused and side eyed him when he got to the pregnancy test. It was the same judgemental look he expected any grandfather to give him.

There was something about a pregnancy test.

The directions were so simple to follow. There really wasn’t any room for error, and yet you still had to read them over and over and over just to be sure you did it right. You even had Chris read over it a few times.

You set your alarm and then the anxiety set in. This was going to be the longest five minutes of your life.

How did you even wind up in this mess? You were always so careful. Very careful. You’d been on birth control for years it was like second nature to you. But one tiny slip up. One slight lapse in judgment. One bottle of soju too many and all your indiscretion was tossed out the window.

Laying on the bed with Chris you sighed. His king Charles spaniel Berry, tucked by the foot of the bed. It’s like your anxiousness was contagious. This was the calmest she’d ever been, it was like she was trying to ease your nerves. “…What if it’s positive..?” you fiddled with your nightshirt, your nerves restless. “What do we do?”

He smoothed down your hair in an attempt to calm you. “Then we’re gonna be parents.” he shrugged and laughed.

“…Can we afford to be?” you never wanted to be on a tight budget with a baby. You didn’t want to be in a position where you had to decide if you could afford to take care of another human.

“I mean we both have stable jobs. If anything we might have to dip into our savings to get by for a few months but we’re gonna be ok.” he shrugged “If we get desperate you know my parents will help out”

“Where are we gonna put a baby Chris…? There’s no room.” you released a deep sigh. You two had a nice little place. A one bedroom condo, with an office, that he’d turn into a studio. You never needed the extra room before but it became very apparent to you that children needed a nursery, maybe a playroom? Somewhere to explore and live, a place to grow, somewhere safe. 

A home.

“We’ll just get a bigger place” he gave you a warm dimpled smile. “We can get a house, with a playroom, and a little nursery for him, and a lawn.” he grinned. “I miss having a big back yard, running around in the back with my Dad, playing with my siblings...We can share all of that with him” he placed his hand on your stomach.

“Everything’s so simple to you isn’t it?”

“‘Course it is” he pressed a kiss to your hair line, brushing his nose down yours. “I love you, why wouldn’t it be simple?”

Then it dawned on you. 

This was a conversation you two never had. It just never came up, you knew he was good with kids and he always seemed like the kind of person that would want a big family, but you just never asked. Personally you wanted a family, maybe two kids but Chris was your partner, if he told you he didn’t want kids you weren’t sure what you would do. You loved him, but that was the one thing that could probably break your relationship, so you just avoided it. 

It was selfish, but you were scared. 

Before you knew it four years had passed. You two had a comfortable relationship, a cozy little apartment and dreams of the future. But was this something he wanted? “Chris...Do you want to be a parent?” you looked over to him. “No pressure but…? Would you want to?”

“You ask me this now?” he laughed ruffling your hair. “Of course I do. It’s a little sooner than expected but I always wanted a kid. And I mean we've been together for so long my Mum is pretty much just expecting it by this point.” he chuckled. “A little bub crawling around, I could even bring ‘em to work with me.”

“Really?” you sat up staring at him, a little dumbfounded. You partially expected him to say yes, you just weren’t expecting that much enthusiasm. “You thought about that?”

“Sure, little ankle biter at my shows. I can stay home with ‘em when you’re at work or I could bring him to my job. I’ll teach him all about producing and music. Whatever the Tike wants to know.” he chuckled “And it’s not like we have a shortage of Baby sitters, the guys could help out too”

He was always so passionate, and you loved that he was eager to pass that on. He was going to make such a great father. You turned on your side facing him, a smile on your face. “So you’ve already decided it’s a boy?” you brushed a hair out of his face.

He placed his hand on your stomach playfully. “Oh, a father knows. And that there is a boy.”

You laughed leaning your head on his arm and playfully hitting his nose. “I think you’re just afraid of a daughter.”

He leaned into you brushing his nose against yours, and a dazzling smile on his lips, his cheek dimpling. “Terrified.”

Pecking his lips, you grinned. “She’d have you so whipped.”

“Absolutely. Without a doubt. If she’s anything like you, the whole world will be hers.” he caressed your cheek lovingly. “She could just stare up at me with her beautiful doe eyes and I’d be a goner.” He brushed your hair behind your ear and smirked “Can’t let girls outnumber me between you and Berry I’m already weak, so I’m gonna hope for my little man.” seeing you laugh he couldn’t help but smile. “And she’d never be allowed to date so let’s hope for a boy”

He knew this was terrifying for you. You were almost shaking when you set down the pregnancy test. He needed to ease your mind. He had his own fears. Less so about financials and more so on if he would just be a good dad. Was he good enough? Was he gonna figure it out? Was he going to be the man you needed him to be? 

He wanted to be loving, he wanted to be their friend. But he needed to be stern. He wanted to raise them right. But he somehow knew he could if it was with you. “What about you Love? Girl or boy?”

You touched your stomach, mulling it over. “Hmmm… no preference. I just want them healthy.” Shrugging you looked at him. “Honestly, I would like one of each at some point. You ok with that?” you stroked his hand softly.

“Of course I am. We can have an army if you’d like”

“Woah, calm yourself. Let’s just take this one step at a time.” you giggled letting him pull you into his chest.

Suddenly being a mother was a lot less terrifying. You could picture it all so well now. You two could move into a new place after your lease was up. Paint the nursery, talk about baby names, pick out clothes. And you just knew your kid was going to be so loved. Between you two and your family, friends, and all of his members, they were going to have the best support system.

Hearing the alarm Chris jumped up. “You ready?”

“I-I…” shaking your head you covered your eyes. “I can’t look. You do it” That very anxiety that Chris worked so hard to disperse came rearing its ugly head.

He walked over to the counter in the bathroom and turned off the alarm on his phone. Walking out with the pregnancy test in hand he took a deep breath. “Ready…?”

“No. Yes. No” you groaned hugging the pillow to your body. “Yes-Ugh-Just tell me” your heart was racing a mile a minute. “Wait no” you huffed hugging your pillow to your body tighter. “I’m scared”

“Baby…It’s negative.” he set down the test on the dresser. He could pinpoint the exact moment your heart broke. “I…Babe…I’m sorry I-”

“….what?” you dropped the pillow, to look at him. Berry instantly going over to you and nuzzling you with her nose. “No…” your eyes glazed over as you shook your head. “No?”

His shoulders slumped as he walked over to you. He placed his hand on top of Berry, rubbing her head. “It’s…negative.”

“Oh that’s…that’s good.” you swallowed hard, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. “What a relief…r-right?” your voice breaking at every word. “Everything’s fine. Back to normal.” you forced a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Babe?” he crawled on to the bed. “You ok?”

“No, I’m fine.” you sniffled. “I’m fine. I’m-” but the moment he pulled you into his arms the dam broke and you just lost it. “Why…why does it hurt…?” you gripped his shirt. “I didn’t even lose anything…right? So why does it hurt so much….?” you mumbled into his broad chest, your little hands clenching at his shirt. “I...Why am I crying… This is so stupid…” you sobbed.

“You know I love you right..? I love you with all my heart…We’ll get through this…” he rubbed your shoulders lovingly. “Baby it’ll be ok”

“Chris…I…I think I really…really wanted this baby…” you rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him. “I loved them already and they never existed and I…”

“I’m so sorry…” he felt helpless, all he could do was hold you. He had to be strong for you, you needed him.

It wasn’t as if you two couldn’t just get pregnant on purpose. This was supposed to be a good thing, wasn’t it? Now you two could plan your future better, right? Wait until your married, even more financially stable and plan for a child. And yet you couldn’t help but feel at a loss. This beautiful picture of your family was slipping away from you. And it broke you.

“…I just…need a minute…” you wiped your tears, moving out of bed, and walking toward the bathroom. On your way into it, you stopped at the dresser, looking down at the heartbreaking test. “…Chris…There’s two lines…”

“Yeah…”

“Two lines mean pregnant” you whispered.

“No, it’s not. One line is pregnant.” he dug through the garbage to get out the packaging. Reading over it his eyes widened. “Wait…no it’s not…are you…?” he looked over at you with wide eyes. “Are we- Could it have changed?”

“Maybe? It’s been a few minutes. I have to take another test now.” you looked back at him a frantically. “Should I?” 

He nodded “I think we should” he grabbed his jacket “I’m gonna go buy a new one”

“I’ll go with you” you threw on a pair of sweatpants and followed him out. 

After another run to the convenient store, another judgmental look from the old man working, and opting for a more expensive brand you found yourself in that same anxious position.

Just waiting.

Both of you refused to leave the bathroom, wanting to see the results the moment it happened. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “Baby you gotta calm down” he laughed nervously, he could practically feel your pulse. 

“I can’t~” you whined “I’m trying but like I’m anxious, what if it’s negative again?”

“If it’s negative then we both start planning for a kid ‘cuz it became real clear that this is something we both want” he pulled you closer, kissing your hand. “You want this and I want this, so even if you aren’t pregnant in this very second, we’ll still have a family”

And after three minutes you checked the test with him. 

You stared down at the test, it was spelled out and yet you still had to re-read it a few times just to confirm. “Pregnant…” you looked over to him, still blinking in disbelief at the words before you. “That…that says pregnant right?” your eyes filled with tears showing him the test.

“It says pregnant.” he grinned, hugging you tightly. “We’re gonna be parents!”

“We’re gonna be parents!!!” you cried jumping up with him.

“I’m gonna be a Dad- you’re gonna be a Mum.”

“We’re gonna have a baby”

“God, I love you so much!!” he pulled you into a kiss, hugging you tight.

“I love you too Chris…we’re…we’re gonna have a family!” you cupped his face. Berry barked circling you two, happily.

End.

Hey Friends! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ I hope you guys liked that! I realised that I never had a simple one shot for Chan and needed to change that. 

Fun fact I actually wrote the scenario a few years back for a different person, so I changed it a bit for Chan. It was nice breathing some new life into it.

Tags: @skzsprinkles @tophuphu @hugs4chan @channieboyo

[blankdblank]

My Pearl Pt 16

Alone in bed Thorin relaxed cuddling the ram against his chest watching the video once again waiting to be able to wrap you in his arms to make up for all the time you had missed, starting with the trip he had planned giving him ample time in the family cabin to have you to himself.

A ring from his phone broke through the deep sleep Thorin had fallen to after a hastily ended bout of texts from you at a final round of tests you had stated they were needing your arm for. Simple blood panels and rolling onto his side he raised his phone and sat up answering your call seeing the notices he had missed two prior calls from the night before.

“Hi.”

“Dearest, I, I don’t remember falling asleep.”

“No doubt you need it, been up constantly since I’ve been away. You should get another nap in before your shift today.”

“I can sleep later, I’d rather talk to you. As long as we can, I got your box, and I love you, and I can’t wait to have you and our baby home in my arms again.”

Through the line and your voice he could sense your tearful smile as you answered, “Well neither can I, I just wanted you to know I’ll be home today, but I did send something else, I have to hang up, but it should be there soon.”

With a sigh Thorin closed his eyes hating and loving the brief call, “Another test?”

“Just crossing some final T’s and dotting some I’s. I love you.”

“I love you, call me right after? I just want to hear you, I don’t care what we talk about.”

“We can talk plenty in a bit. Shouldn’t be long.”

The call ended and smoothing a hand over his face he growled to himself nearly folding in half aching to speak with you again. The expected doorbell came and growling again he brushed his shorts down and grabbed a shirt he had tossed at the foot of the bed in case of company he sloppily tugged on smoothing it over his middle with a huff. On his way to the front door wondering what could be on the other side of the door that could possibly make him happier than hearing you were on your way back to him.

Two flicks and the locks were undone with the handle turned to pull the door back. The metal handle left his hand dropping to his side as his eyes scoured over you and your thick lopsided braid of curls and vibrant purple eyes above the easy grin splitting for you to say, “You forgot to pack my keys or I’d have crept in bed with you.”

Tears instantly pooled into his eyes and your bag hit the ground on his right allowing you to break the stalemate and lay your hands on his middle, “I’m ok.”

All at once his body curled forward to press his forehead to yours and bring you back into your home sealing the door behind you your back tapped in his melting embrace the pair of you clung to one another through. Several unspoken minutes he nuzzled against you basking in the contact again and he mumbled, “Are you tired?”

“A nap would be nice.” And up into his arms you were lifted to be carried off to bed, onto his lap as he sat you were settled and he reached down to undo your shoes he dropped onto the floor then turned to lay you both out curling you in his arms under the blanket he brought up over the both of you. Across his cheek your hand eased and you hummed in the stroke of your thumb across his cheek, “A letter was fine?”

“Perfect.” To your nose the tip of his tapped and in a tilt of your head you closed the distance for a needy deepening kiss breaking only for the ache of his to cling to you keeping you tight to his chest ensuring no one could take you again. “Dearest,” across your lips a smile eased in the loop of his arm around you enabling a few of his fingers to brush under your sweater to ease across your belly still without a hint of a bump yet.

“I know I scared you, and I’m sorry.”

“No apologies. You don’t owe me any. People get sick, if you hadn’t no telling how long it would have taken us to know you were expecting and needed time off.”

Warm and cozy safe in his arms you drifted off to low rumbling hums forming old Khuzdul lullabies marking the rhythm his hand once lowered stroked across your belly. Months it would take to have a bump grow to mark the progress and every day he planned to mark each change in some possible way. A grumble from you and his eyes shifted to your face in time to meet your warm kiss deepening by the moment. For weeks you had been apart and before that still unable to express your passions at being to tired to do more than cuddling. Slow and tender the pair of you stripped and again he took to savoring every inch of you surely new to him with certainty of changing in the very near future to end again in more cuddling once dressed again.

Nuzzling his forehead to the top of your head his arms draped around your back smiling at your burrow more into his chest missing his natural warmth. I love you’s were exchanged and by the time your stomach could growl a growl escaped him when his doorbell rang. “Maybe they have food,” you grumbled tiling your head back allowing him to claim another kiss.

Distantly you heard the front door open and Kili saying, “It’s unlocked.”

Fili followed saying, “Uncle? You left your door unlocked.”

Thorin growled again closing his eyes to tap his forehead to yours, Dis’ voice followed saying, “Thorin we brought food for breakfast.”

“They have food,” you muttered only to be silenced with another kiss from him trailed by a huff and pull back to the edge of the bed where he gently helped to untangle your leg from the sheet and stand to walk out in front of him with his arms tucking around you to keep close.

Gasps were followed by hugs and soon enough the clan was here to join in on the growing meal to welcome you home. Still you weren’t able to work but you could head in to greet your relatives and Elvish cooking crew who knew very well and had planned to cover for you while Thorin took you away for a week up to the woods. The press had been handled and when the book drop day came you hoped to be away to not have to worry about any cameras or people trying to find you to start what was surely to come in terms of signings.

Full suitcases were laying in the back of your jeep that Thorin napped in the passenger seat of having dozed off even after swearing to have sing a longs and driving games for the long trek that would take you from sundown to sunrise to reach the cabin. Usually it would be in the reverse as for time to leave, only the roads required to get there were jammed far beyond reasonable for any expecting woman to be waiting through hours of traffic in case of a rest stop. Along the way ample stops and diners were lined by the long road to the distant cabin.

One handed in the dark you followed the highway with your other hand reaching to stroke your belly. A second trip for your first check up with a Hobbit familiar doctor who handled all of Bombur’s Wife’s pregnancies a subtle development of the feet and measurements hinted that you had conceived around the time that your Pearl dissolution papers had been signed. Roughly five months along it seemed since that welcome home dinner a small pudge around your belly had collected only solidifying from experience from your first pregnancy. More than just jiggle it had the telling firmness with your muscles being pushed out ever so slightly really revealed to tear inducing view for Thorin when you were topless, naked or in tight tank tops.

Weekly once you were back your family friend who would be continuing the video or phone therapy sessions that have helped you settle yourself in your grief since the mass killer who confessed his crimes to you before turning himself in would continue to help you if anything would pop up to worry you at all. Where you had assumed some of the Durins might take it as a weakness Bombur’s Wife especially confirmed that she had therapy sessions through her pregnancy as well, a common tradition for Dams who carried for four years at a time sometimes requiring some serious deflating, including occasional couple sessions. Clear worries for the Durins came with wonder if you might be worried on issues of being poisoned again but they went away after clarifying that you were aware that you didn’t have any enemies and that it was unlikely for you to ever be poisoned again. Now simply left the couple sessions, which bi weekly you had agreed to sit with Thorin for them with the clan’s usual therapist who would come to your home for the sessions on your days off.

“Eight months left,” you muttered to yourself, hushed reminders used each month to bolster hope that your baby would be born healthy into a safe home and family around you both. Just a few months to the marker when you had lost Naule and not long before the date when the gender could be publicly shared if you wished to know in advance. Lowly Thorin grumbled making you grin in your glance his way finding him shifting in his seat to settle his broad self more comfortably in his seat, ending with his hand sliding off the armrest to land on your lap. Back to the road you looked moving your hand from your fluttering belly not wanting to wake the Dwarf so adamant on feeling every movement that for a few months only you could sense just in case he might get lucky just once and feel it. Moving it to lay your second hand on the wheel once you’d turned the radio volume up a tick.

Nearly three hours deeply you inhaled and checking your mirrors confirming you were still alone on the highway, merging for the exit the diner signs helped to guide you to the lit up building while Thorin began to stir from the unexpected turns. By the time you parked he inched up blinking his vision into focus only to have his mouth open realizing how long he’d slept. Looking at you he asked, “I slept this long? I am so sorry.”

Shaking your head you said, “I want seasoned chips, do you think they have seasoned chips?”

Widely a smirk crept across his lips and he hummed back, “They do. With large burgers and shakes,”

“Ooh, chocolate, but vanilla sounds good too…”

Sweetly after you’d turned off the car and pulled out the keys he took hold of the keys and your hand saying, “How about this, you get chocolate and I’ll get vanilla, when you want we can trade refill cups.”

You nodded and removed your seatbelt, “Gotta pee first though.”

With a nod he turned to get out himself and walk around to offer his hand to guide you onto the curb and inside ensuring the jeep was locked up. Inside the diner door he opened for you he caught the wide eyed stare from the waitress and cook recognizing the pair of you. Flashing you both a grin while Thorin asked where you wanted to sit and pointed out the bathrooms she came over with menus in hand asking, “Long drive?”

Thorin rumbled back, “Yes.”

“Be right back,” you muttered hurrying off to the bathroom making her grin at your parting grin.

Thorin led her over to the booth you had chosen asking, “Not too early for milkshakes is it?”

“No, not at all.”

“Alright, two then, please, one chocolate, one vanilla.”

She nodded saying, “Sure thing, have those right out to you.” Hurrying off to put those orders in as Thorin sat down with a view of the Jeep, door and the kitchen knowing you would choose to settle on his right in the middle of the curve of the booth.

A few minutes later you returned hurrying over to Thorin who grinned at you lovingly through scooting across the curved booth to the spot next to him. “Our milkshakes are being made for us as we speak. I think we should get curly chips too.”

You gasped, “They have those too?” You asked taking the menu making him grin widely and turn to the burger section again to pretend he wasn’t just going to get the same he always got. “Don’t worry about the meat they always cook them through when we have been here.”

“That’s good,” you said turning to burgers, “Ooh, barbeque pineapple bacon burger. Yum.” Making him grin again at your favoring his usual.

“I think that’s my choice as well.”

“Would they add tomato do you think?”

“We can ask, I usually add pickles on the side to mine.”

“I may steal one.”

“Steal as many as you want, my Dearest Gemstone.”

The nickname just about had the waitress melting out into a soppy pile of hearts on her way back with tray for your order as a trio of officers arrived on their lunch. “Here you are, one chocolate, and one vanilla milkshake,” she said settling them down in front of you both following Thorin’s gestures with a grin settling the metal cups with the left over shakes in them beside your cups. “Decided on your meal yet?”

Thorin replied, “Two barbeque pineapple bacon burgers, with a side of pickles and some tomato slices too, with an order of seasoned chips and another of curly chips, please,”

She grinned nodding as she finished writing the order with contrasting sides around the same burger, “Of course, let me know if you need anything.” She said smiling in her turn away to walk past the trio of officers settling at the bar to pass off the order to the antsy cook waiting to cook for the pair of famous chefs in his diner. Even the cops had taken notice but while you slid your shake closer to take a sip they decided to wait a bit seeing Thorin leaning in to kiss your temple then bring his own glass closer for a sip of his own.

Murmuring to you sweetly, “I’m driving after this.”

“If you’re still tired-,”

He shook his head, “No, and it is your turn to relax, not to mention I have the keys.”

“If I wasn’t carrying I’d scurry right over you easily,” making him smirk at you, “But fine, we can trade off at diners.”

Mid sip his eyes dropped to your hand shifting to your fluttering belly making him smirk and settle his hand beside yours, an action that the cop who stole a glance back at you two grinned and turned to keep it to himself knowing there had been no public announcement of a possible baby yet. His hand lowered to your thigh after murmuring, “Fairly soon, Buarndur, enjoy your hide and seek.” (Bear)

You smirked at him saying, “We don’t have to pick Bear, I just had a dream-,”

Smirking at you he leaned in, “Exactly why, I love Bear,” stealing a quick kiss you leaned into and stole a quick tap of your forehead to his for a moment, “What is it in Elvish?”

“Morko,”

“Morko,” he purred back with a smirk and pulled back post kiss on your nose, “Adorable. Either one would be a perfect middle name if you prefer to not settle it as a first.”

“Are you sure your clan would be fine with an Elvish name?”

“Yes, if you would feel more comfortable we could look into Hobbit names. Meet in the middle so to speak. As for your other argument you are talking to a Dwarf with Battle-Ram for a middle name.”

You smirked then glanced up to the waitress arriving with your large plates of chips she settled saying, “Burgers are nearly done. Few minutes now.”

You shook your head, “That’s alright, thank you.”

She grinned again turning to greet the next group of diners, nurses fresh of their own shift ready to gorge then head home to collapse after their grueling day. Each of them giving their orders accepting one last mug of coffee each to make it through the meal. Sampling the fries the pair of you chatted as Thorin shared more about the cabin. “Once we get there I can take you for a walk by the stream, show you the best fishing spots.”

“We aren’t fishing, are we, because I doubt I could do that without crying.”

“No, no fishing. But they are lovely spots, especially for when the deer come through in the mornings.”

“Aww, there are deer?”

Lowly he chuckled, “Yes, there are deer, who sometimes come to explore our wrap around porch. So if there is clacking around the early morning it’s just the deer.”

“Just so you know I’m still sending you out to check.”

Again he chuckled and hummed, “Understood.” The burgers arrived and you both assembled them with the sides to your liking and eaten between muffled conversation until the large spread was finished off along with your now mixed milkshakes.

Post trip to the bathroom Thorin had already paid and grinned at the approaching police who asked for autographs he gladly signed while you exited the bathroom having just inched your jeans up again slightly irritated at their sliding without a belt now un-wearable. Smoothing your hands around the hem of your sweater you hoped to help disguise your belly on the walk back to the crowded booth. A smile from you came in your own acceptance of the notepads to sign under Thorin’s. Over their radios a call came in and following their huffing selves returning to pay you both slipped out wit you flashing a wave to the cook who waves your way glad for his own that the Waitress had gotten for him.

Thorin got you tucked safely into your seat and walked around to wiggle himself comfortable for the next stretch of the drive. “I love you,” your drooping eyes met his with a sleepy grin after he’d noticed you were dozing off and in a tender stroke of his hand over your rounder belly he hummed, “I love you my little Bear.”

Next to half of the remaining ride you slept soundly to wake only shifting in your curled up spot on your seat as he knowingly pulled off to a rest stop. Pitch black from the locked jeep to the light of a flashlight Thorin had pulled out of the backseat he led you under his arm to the brick building split in half clearly not lit up at all making him say, “I’ll take you into the Ladies room.” Carefully inspecting the first two turns into the open bathroom with two stalls, aiming the light up it gave you a dim light to head into the first stall open only at the top few inches up to the propped up roof allowing all the bugs and warm air in and out at its whims.

Keeping it up he left the door open to the stall next to yours unzipping his fly to relieve himself while you sighed at the relieving emptying of your bladder even through the squatting position above the lidless toilet after seeing the seat covers were all gone. “Oh come on,” you muttered making Thorin glance to the wall between you shaking himself to put it away again and zip up.

“What happened?”

“Why is there never any toilet paper?”

Quietly zipping up his fly he bent to pull the spare absurdly large roll off the top of the dispenser he carried around to the door saying, “There was a spare roll next door.” Gently he eased the door he heard you unlock open to blindly hold the roll on the end of his hand you pulled a bundle off to use then stand to wiggle your panties and jeans up again.

“Thank you. I didn’t think you’d hide.”

Smirking to himself he said, “I have seen you naked but we have yet to share a bathroom in that sense, I am not pushing things.” He said retracting his arm at the flush after you settled the roll taken from him to sit on top of the empty dispenser.

Behind him when he caught your reflection through the door you eased further open to head to wash your hands only to find the sinks filled with rocks and dirt to cushion the beds of the wildflowers growing in them. “Huh,”

Thorin couldn’t help but chuckle to himself and turn to guide you back to the car easing his arm around your back, “I have some wipes in the jeep.” Again protectively inspecting your surroundings ensuring you got back to the safe locked jeep he pulled a packet from the bag he put the flashlight back into to pass to you along with a second for him to sanitize your hands. Into the bag sealed for trash he put the used wipes into so the scent wouldn’t get to you.

“Did you pee?”

“Yes,” he replied with a grin.

“Lucky, pregnancy would be so much easier with a penis.” That had him laughing in backing out of his spot, “No toilet paper, no seat at all, if I could just unzip without having to squat be so much easier.”

“I suppose it would in some aspects.” He said double checking the road was still empty to pull out to drive past the underpass to continue on to get back onto the highway.

“Do Dams hit heats in their pregnancies?” He glanced at you and you said, “I did, ooh, I need to find another copy of my exercise tapes I had. Feanor is sure to have some,” you said bringing out your phone to emailing him asking if he or Curufin had a good exercise tape your Gran had given you that she said she’d used and given to your mother for her pregnancy. Hastily you sent it off through the red light before your one bar dropped off again leaving you lost to the world on your vacation.

“Hopefully nothing too strenuous.”

“Hmm? Oh no, mostly stretching, balance and some, mediation? Is that the word?”

“Meditation?” He asked and you looked his face over, “Structured breathing and relaxation techniques.”

“So I missed a t? Mediation, med-,”

“Me-di-ta-tion.”

“Ah, yes, one pesky t.” making him chuckle again.

“And yes,” you glanced at him again when he started to roll at the light turning green finally, “Dams are notorious for their heats. It is not uncommon in the first year for a Dam to get pregnant again in her first year of carrying. Should you require more amorous or fewer attentions let me know. I will be very understanding, our kin have times of not wishing to leave it to just cuddling, or sleeping apart again due to hot flashes.”

“Oh, I don’t get hot flashes, I actually get cold, part of my nesting,”

“Ah, much like Hobbits, yes Gramps said Gran used to come cuddle like an ice cube often through his working from home in her final months. How did you manage it?”

“Two of my friends in Orcarni were married, both big burly Dwarves with twelve sisters between them lived next door, said I could knock on their door any time.”

Thorin glanced your way, “That sounds-,”

“They weren’t baby poaching, their own surrogate was two years in, also a half Hobbit who warned them of the chills and they approached asking when they noticed I kept buying firewood during hot months.”

“Ah, how are they, your friends?”

“They’re good, nine grandbabies now. Emailed me the other day about an assumed great grandbaby possibly coming soon. They have their own soup and bread shop. Said if we ever come down we get an all we can eat pass, most likely about my book tour possibly.”

“Sounds lovely, no doubt Dain’s Gran will insist we stay in their penthouse when you pass through Orcarni.” Again you tucked your legs up onto your seat and he patted your legs saying, “Take another nap, my Dearest. Some time yet to the final stretch.”

.

Steadily across a bridge sunrise broke and stopping for traffic had your eyes cracking open to the sound of the blinker ticking. Straightening up your legs lowered and Thorin said, “Quick turn,” with hands settling on the door and the arm rest you sat steady while Thorin timed a merge into the exit lane noticing the diner formerly accessed by the next exit now having an earlier one between two large trucks driving slow enough to accommodate the shift. Glancing over once he straightened the jeep in the lane he said, “Sorry, new exit. Diner ahead.”

“Good,” you yawned out and settled flatter into your seat.

Absurdly empty for how many people were rushing back and waiting them out on a lingering breakfast you stirred and under Thorin’s arm you took your chance to get onto the clearer highway for the final leg. City surrounding it simply dropped off to nothing but green and winding through tall hills a small town soon came into view, not far past that tucked between a ring of hills coated in stunning sturdy pines a lovely log cabin that he drove right up to parking outside. Climbing out to stretch you walked around the jeep looking the building over looking away only as Thorin asked, “I’ll unload, did you want to head in first to use the bathroom before our walk?”

“Sure.” You nodded accepting the keys to head over to the steps for the front porch. Propping the screen door open with your back you unlocked the front door while Thorin emptied the back of the jeep. Sharp and quick a shriek from you had him dropping his bag only to stop mid step to race after you when he heard, “It’s stuffed, I’m fine.”

Smoothing a hand over his face he lifted his bag while you inched your way through the cabin preparing to find more stuffed creatures much like the giant badger on a table by the door you had been greeted by. Trembling slightly you found the closest bathroom through a guest room and sighing to calm yourself you bent forward on the toilet to the sound of Thorin carrying everything into the main hall by the door muttering about the stuffed badger himself he apparently had hoped would have been moved knowing it could be frightening to those not expecting it.

A chirp sounded the locking of the jeep and a few minutes later after washing your hands Thorin was found in the kitchen unloading the food he had brought to join the spread that relatives living not far from here had brought out to stock up the cabin for this trip. “Sorry, I moved the badger, I did warn them about the stuffed animals before our stay.”

“It’s alright, it was just right there when I opened the door.”

“Gramps always greets him when he enters, but his badger always terrifies guests who aren’t warned.” Putting up the final few things he grinned your way saying, “Alright, ready to walk?” You nodded and he grabbed a satchel with water bottles and some snacks in it in case you needed something to eat or drink while you were gone even though it wouldn’t be that long.

Hand in hand he led the way down to the main trail sharing stories about spots along the way out towards one of the hills towards the distant streams. Right up to a bend in it grins spread at the sight of the glimmering water between the smooth stones on its edge in the dirt. Another step had your eyes shifting to the trio of deer on the other side of the stream whose heads sharply lifted up to search for danger. Curious sniffs it the air had their ears relaxing to your murmur of, “So sweet. Look, they have a baby.”

Thorin chuckled glancing at the buck and his mate with their young spotted fawn who lowered their heads to drink again each stealing glances your way in your stroll following the stream away from them. Not far from there on a stone bench Thorin led you to settle on it saying, “Might as well have a snack break.”

Two granola bars were brought out along with dried fruit and two bottles of water. For the break lovingly but slightly odd Thorin kept up the same conversation while seeming to be hiding something he was planning. Pretending you didn’t know something was off you kept talking between bites and sips only to glance up at the distant roll of thunder on the oddly clear sky with only a dark group of clouds in the distance. “Maybe we should head back,” you murmured looking to the clouds.

“Of course.” He rumbled putting everything back into his bag he shouldered offering a hand to help you up.

Still following the stream your focus turned to the stones again and Thorin paused at your soft, “Ooh,”

He saw you bending saying, “No, no, let me get it,” already crouching after having spent the last twenty feet smoothing the ring on a ribbon he’d forgotten to loop around the neck of your drink or one of your snacks.

“It’s the one shaped like a sheep,”

Smirking to himself he eyed the stone you had met, oddly milky grey in the sea of dark green, brown and grey stones that he lifted from the dirt brushing it off, around the stone he looped the ribbon. Shifting to face you in his palm he lifted the stone smiling up at your curiously grinning self watching the few moments between his turn and your noticing the ring. Open mouthed you eyed the ring timidly reaching out to shift the ring from the side of the stone. “Thorin,” you murmured and looked to him still on his knee.

“The very first time I saw you smile you were in a yellow shirt, and it was stunning, I froze. Even though I didn’t bring it about, or was anywhere near you to know what I could have done or said to make you smile like that myself. It was before we had spoken, and in some small way each time I had seen you your happiest something yellow was involved. Even just seeing something yellow on my own I can’t help but smile remembering that smile of yours. So I chose a yellow diamond, as a promise, for the rest of our lives I will give my all to ensure you are happy, if you’ll have me?”

Reaching up your hand wiped away a stray tear and you nodded through a sniffle and up he stood cupping your cheek to claim a tender kiss, pulling back to brush his nose to yours, “Is this because of our Bear?”

Smirking in an inch back he shook his head, “No, well, yes, but no. I had plans to propose before we found out about our little Bear. Feanor helped me pick the cut. Can I put it on you now?” He asked rather eagerly.

Giggling to yourself you nodded and he pulled back beaming to untie the ribbon to ease the ring onto your left index finger making the diamonds surrounding the cushion cut large yellow diamond and covering the mithril band, “Did you plant the sheep?” You teased making him chuckle again and look up to catch your eye.

“No,” he chuckled out, “Happened by chance.” Adding the stone to his bag he hummed, “However, I will be saving it, for a shadow box or something. Menu Tessu, my Dearest Gemstone.” (You mean everything to me.)

To the tug on the front of his sweater he grinned leaning in to accept the kiss you wanted and melted into, pulling back only to the next roll of thunder. “I think it’s going to rain.”

“Good, we can have dinner by candlelight. Lovely wood burning stove too, so our dinner will be safe.”

“Good, I take it there’s no heating?”

“There are fireplaces. I will keep you warm.”

Nodding up at him you laid your hands on his chest saying, “Good, because I plan on getting you naked.”

“Ooh,” he hummed on his way to melt into your next kiss and turned easing his arm around your back to a breeze beginning to blow. Each step hinted that a storm was rolling through with wins growing and his grip at your waist ensuring you did not stumble or get carried off by the storm.

Little by little the clouds dropped into this valley darkening the path luring out his flashlight again. Straight up to the cabin you walked only to have Thorin’s arm release at the giant golden wolf on the front porch. “Get behind me,” he muttered only to freeze at the flash of lightning revealing the bright purple eyes looking straight at you in his sea of shimmering fur oddly unreal even just a short distance away.

Throatily the wolf whined with jaws just shy of being closed, as if he was holding something and down the steps he walked weightlessly not shifting a bit of dirt between the cobbled path or the blades of grass you were standing in. Five feet tall the wolf all but towered over you whining again, almost smiling his eyes locked with yours through an excited wag of his tail to your hand lifting that he pressed his head into it just barely feeling solid with clouds of glimmering specks floating off his fur you touched. “Naule,” you murmured and his eyes opened in another wine. Bopping your hand lower with his nose he flattened it opening his jaws widely and pulled his head back revealing a sparkling pot with a pear tree seedling inside of it.

Softly he let of a kind of bark luring your eyes to him again in his lean forward smoothing his head from your belly up to your shoulder in a kind of hug that you eased your hands around the back of his neck when equally as teary eyed Thorin claimed hold of the seedling. To his hushed whines and your hushed Vanyar whispers Thorin eyed the plant unfolding a few inches stretching its branches out comfortably again to its full near foot long height. Distant howls however had his fur bristling and in a tentative step back deeply he inhaled at your arms lowering back to your sides, anxiously his eyes looked you over in another whine and he huffed to the sound of an owl hooting formerly unnoticed on its place atop the roof of the cabin.

Inching his head forward his teeth eased around Thorin’s free wrist on the arm closest to you easing his hand to yours, letting go at fingers tangling to step back wagging his tail again in a pleased but remorseful whine. Deeply he drew in another breath and to the lift of his head an echoing howl escaped his jaws making your free hand cover your mouth to keep from snatching out at his fur to not let him go also muffling the quiet squeak from you trying not to beg for him to stay. On the wind he seemed to fade along with the owl watching with wide golden shimmering eyes.

Tightly in a hug Thorin lifted you with one arm against his chest carrying you back up into the cabin to settle into one of the deep couches in the living room. Holding you through the shared tears in the kind goodbye blessing that by Thorin’s guess was aided by Mahal due to the owl guide sent to ensure his safe return to the Halls of Mandos. Stealing glances all the while to the softly glowing pear tree he knew just where you could plant it once it was larger.

Warm fires and shared prep on the dinner helped the meal along faster it seemed with juice and slow dancing to the record player long through the stormy night. Right to the first signs of your sleepy drooping taps of your forehead to his chest signaling his carrying you to bed. The largest warmed bed was waiting, thanks to the pile of furs and fire burning from his last stop to the bathroom, he tucked you in smiling at your drifting off to sleep and changed quickly himself, glad that even though your promise to undress him was side stepped he got to hold you through the night. Making sure to feed the fire then climb in himself and cuddled close to your side easing his arms gently around you making sure not to wake you. Surly the meeting you had wouldn’t be boasted on but a loving memory just for the three of you with a lovely reminder to bring home and settle next to the sapling for his baby sibling.

All the same still he smiled easing his hand lower to stroke your belly humming deep and low to the both of his loves in his arms. Hours he hummed keeping his eyes closed. One gentle shift under his palm and his eyes opened with smile widening again to the following shift mirroring the slumbering grumble from you marking even in your sleep you felt it too. Nipping at his lip he eased down under the covers to the third kick halting his hum murmuring to the shifting belly, “There you are Buarndur. I love you, your Amad loves you, and your big brother Naule loves you too.” Again he kissed your belly and at the next kick into his lips he chuckled murmuring at your body shifting slightly adjusting your legs, “I love you, please don’t wake your Amad. She needs her rest and so do you to grow big and strong, my little one.” Again he kissed your belly and then inched up continuing to hum cuddling around you smiling brighter to the softer but continued kicks he felt against his own belly when you turned to nestle into his chest allowing him to rub and stroke your back slowly lulling himself to sleep.

@himoverflowers​​​, @theincaprincess​​​, @aspiringtranslator​​​, @sweeticedtea​​​, @thegreyberet​​​, @patanghill17​​​, @jesgisborne​​​, @curvestrology​​​, @alishlieb​​​, @jogregor​​​, @armitageadoration​​​, @fizzyxcustard​​​, @here2have-fun​​​, @lilith15000​​​, @marvels-ghost​​​, @catthefearless​​​, @imjusthereforthereads​​​, @c-s-stars​​​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​​, @mariannetora​​​, @shes-a-killer-kween​​, @ggbbhehe4455

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​​, @jotink78​​, @pastelhexmaniac​​

x Thorin – @evyiione​​, @deepestfirefun​​, @queenoferebor​​

My Pearl - @here2have-fun​​, @onewithleaf​​, @sherala007​​

[kerwritesthings]

ok but imagine shawn braiding your hair when u don’t feel good 😭

Talk about timing on this - may be slightly self serving as I’m currently battling some awful nasty that’s taking residence in my system. 

What you thought started out as just being overly tired and a scratchy throat from talking too much in too many meetings, became a full-blown late winter mess despite all your efforts to keep the crud at bay. You hole yourself up in the guest room, not wanting to spread this more than possible. You could work from home, take sick days if you had to. The last thing you want is to give any of this to your man. However, he has other plans. All Shawn wants to do is take care of you, the way you take care of him when he’s sick. The difference is, you can deal with the fallout if you get sick. He has obligations that require him to not be.

Please let me come in. I know how you get when you’re feeling shitty, baby. Just for a few minutes to cuddle you. I’ll wear one of those stupid face masks you bought the last time you were sick if it would make you feel better, or make you laugh. Combo of both? ;) Maybe I can find those scrubs I wore that one Halloween too…

“This boy I swear,” you roll your eyes and say out loud to the empty room you’re in.

I should send you to your parents for the rest of the week. You’ve got London in like what, 10 days? You cannot be ill for that. Andrew will kill me. Then the label people. Then Andrew again. Maybe the studio folks too. Don’t make me text your Mom.

You hear him laugh from down the hall.

You realize I can sick her on you too you know, she’d be the first one telling you to let me take care of you. And they wouldn’t kill you, I wouldn’t allow that to happen you know that. Kind of love you too much

“This mush I swear,” you mutter under your breath. 

He knocks at the door, “Baby, I’m coming in.”

“I don’t wanna get you sick,” you whine, burying yourself further down in the stolen sweatshirt of his. “Go ‘way.”

“Come on sweetheart,” he says softly, lifting you up into his arms. “Shower’s running nice and warm, I’ve got the shower bomb set out, the eucalyptus wash and a new one of those sea sponges you only like to use when you’re sick. New pajamas, some of my stuff even that I know you’ll want to cozy down in. While you’re in there I’ll make some of that citrus defender tea with extra honey and lemon. Dig out the NyQuil. Change the sheets, even spray everything down with that new less toxic smelling Lysol you ordered off Amazon.”

“I can’t get you sick, you should go…” you begin before he cuts you off.

“None of that bullshit,” he replies, kissing your forehead. “You’d do this for me without a second thought, and you have, so many times. In sickness and in health remember? Oh yeah, you want us to have non-traditional vows, but same still applies, ok? Also, I’m taking your temp before you get in that water. Your forehead feels warmer than normal.”

You grumble as he places you down on the counter before rooting around for the thermometer. Once he’s found it, along with the rubbing alcohol and a cotton round, he sticks it in your ear while making funny faces at you waiting for the timer to beep off. You try your best to pout and frown at him but after one ridiculous face you didn’t expect, you can’t help but chuckle.

“There’s my girl,” he replies, kissing your forehead again as the thermometer chimes. “100.2, so a little one since I know you always run a little cooler than normal. NyQuil will help.”

He slides you off the counter and despite you trying to fight it, he pulls you into his chest. “I just want to help you feel better, that’s all, ok? Take your time in the shower, turn down the temp if it gets to be too warm and you start to feel foggy. I’ll leave the door open, so yell for me if you need.”

You nod against his sternum before pulling back. “‘M sorry I’m a cranky bitch when I’m sick,” you sigh.

“I’m probably twenty-eight times worse,” he quips, nudging you towards the shower.

After a good steam, soak and scrub, you’re starting to feel a bit more human, at least in the fact you can somewhat breathe better than you were before. Changing into the baseball tee and pajama pants he left you, you comb your hair out before spraying some product in and wrapping it up in a towel. He’s left you a purple post-it stuck to the bathroom mirror with a scribbled stick figures hugging, a smiley face and a heart. You can’t help but smile as you pull it down from the glass and slide it into the drawer with your makeup bag for safe keeping.

You wander back into the guest room where you find him in the last steps of remaking the bed. There’s a massive mug of steaming tea, a new box of tissues and a fresh bottle of water on the side table along with what looks to be a small, shallow bowl with pills and vitamins. At the foot of the bed is the soft cable-knit grey sweater he was wearing before, knowing you’d probably want to steal it from him.

“Hey, there she is. Color’s better. How are you feeling?” he asks, rounding to the doorway where you’re hovering.

“A step up from garbage maybe?” you reply, flopping cross-legged onto the bed.

“Tea, NyQuil, the plethora of vitamins, Emergen-C and herbal things you like to take when you’re not feeling you. Take all those, then let’s get you out of this towel and tucked in, ok?” he says, handing you the mug and the little bowl before sliding behind you on the bed.

Once you’ve drained a good deal of the tea and put the mug back down, he’s winding your hair our of the towel and tossing it around his shoulders.

“What are you up to there, Shawn?” you question, his hands winding through your damp strands.

“Lemme braid this for you?” he responds, massaging against the base of your skull lightly with his thumbs. “Your crazy pineapple bun is going to pull too much if your sinuses are driving you crazy, and I know you you’re still going to want it out of your face. Mum taught me one summer when Aaliyah was little, since she wouldn’t stop bouncing around me wanting to play hair salon or Barbies or Barbie hair salon maybe. But whatever, I still learned how. Nothing fancy, nothing more than a basic braid.”

You nod, sliding the hair tie off your wrist and placing it on his knee behind you. He was careful, combing out pieces with his fingers to make sure there weren’t any tangles before separating them into three sections. He takes his time, not pulling too hard but making sure there’s enough tension to keep the braid together. He hums something, it sounds familiar enough, but you can’t place it. It’s soothing, the combination of his hands in your hair and the warm reverb of his voice. Your eyes start to slip closed.

“Think this should do it,” he murmurs as he twists the end up with the black tie. “Come on pretty girl, time to get you settled in. Bet that NyQuil is just about to knock you out.”He shifts you so he can get you tucked under the fresh sheets. “There we go, snug as a bug in a rug. You just sleep, ok? Thank you for letting me help, sweetheart. I love you. I just want to make sure you’re taken care of. I don’t like not being able to help you.”

“No sleeping here for you. Too risky. Despite cuddles being good medicine. Go disinfect yourself,” you whisper, half asleep. “And thank you for being here, taking care of my cranky self. I love you too, Shawn. Lots and lots.”

[vnderoos]

chocolate chunks ❁ peter parker

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language, fluff! word count / 1.8k

masterlist in bio ↴

TO: PENIS PARKER mom's out of town till tomorrow Sent @ 8:17 am.

TO: PENIS PARKER u know what that means ;)) Sent @ 8:17 am.

Y/N sent the texts with a small smile on her face and, when the little gray bubble popped up in the left corner of her screen, she pressed the lock on her phone. She'd sent Peter texts like these hundreds of times before, but even after dating for two years, she still got butterflies as she waited for him to reply.

Her phone chimed, signaling that he'd responded, and despite the fact that she'd locked her phone only seconds before, she pulled up the text immediately.

FROM: PENIS PARKER Cuddles and a movie marathon? Sent @ 8:18 am.

She couldn't stop the smile that spread onto her face or the way that her heart fluttered at the sight of his text. God, he's so cute, she thought to herself as her eyes darted across the screen.

TO: PENIS PARKER duhh Sent @ 8:18 am.

TO: PENIS PARKER what time works for you? Sent @ 8:18 am

FROM: PENIS PARKER May wants me to do some stuff before I go, so is around 9 ok Sent @ 8:19 am.

She leaned against her countertop, propping herself up with her elbows as she looked at her phone.

TO: PENIS PARKER ofc, i just wanna see u :) Sent @ 8:19 am.

FROM: PENIS PARKER Me too :)) see you soon Sent @ 8:20 am.

On that note, Y/N smiled again to herself and set her phone facedown on the counter.

She still had a while before Peter showed up and she wanted to make sure their little movie day was as perfect as possible, so she grabbed a bag of cookie dough out of the fridge. She broke off the precut squares, placed them neatly into a cookie tray, and popped them in the oven as soon as it was preheated.

While she waited for the cookies to bake, she decided to get the living room ready. She grabbed two fuzzy blankets from her bedroom closet and only the fluffiest pillows off of her bed. She laid the pillows on the arms of her couch so it'd be real cozy when they laid down, and she draped the blankets over the back. She lit the vanilla scented candle that sat in the middle of her coffee table and she cleared a place for the plate of cookies she'd set out whenever they were done.

When the cookies were warm and gooey and the smell of chocolate wafted through her house, she transferred them all onto a glass plate and she placed them in their designated spot in her living room.

By the time everything was ready to go, Peter was bound to show up at any moment. Instead of finding something to keep herself busy until he got there, she laid on the couch with her eyes closed, her hands folded over her ribcage as she rested her eyes. She hadn't been laying down for long—well, that or she'd dozed off—when a quiet knock sounded from her front door.

Y/N practically shot up from her position on the couch, sitting up and leaping to her feet. Her heart pumped excitedly in her chest at the thought of seeing Peter, despite having met him for lunch the day before.

It didn't matter, though.

She was always excited to see him.

"Coming," she called, jogging across her wooden floors to the door. When she pulled it open, she couldn't help but laugh softly at what she saw.

Peter was standing on the welcome mat in his Spider-Man suit, rocking back and forth softly on his feet. He had his school backpack on, even though class didn't start for another two weeks, and his thumbs were tucked beneath the straps. His mask was on but she could tell by the squint of the lenses over his eyes that he was smiling and he just looked so sweet that it was insane.

"Hey, come in," she greeted with a smile, before she stepped aside and gestured for him to come inside. He wasted no time walking through the door, which she shut quietly behind him, and he pulled the mask of his suit off as soon as she did.

When the mask came off, Peter's hair, bouncy with curls he'd let grow out for the summertime, sprang out from underneath. He ran a gloved hand through it, pushing it out of his face and revealing his cheeks, which were flushed from having hot air fanning over his face as he breathed beneath his mask.

He reached behind his back and tucked the mask into one of the water bottle pockets on the side. "I'm gonna go change out of my suit real quick, but I'll be right back," he told her and he waited for her to nod before he took off towards the bathroom. "Don't start without me," he called when he was out of her line of sight and she smiled to herself, shaking her head softly at his antics.

"You know I won't," she yelled back, walking over to the tall lamp and unnecessarily straightening out the shade while she waited for him to finish changing.

Peter finished a minute or two later, throwing his backpack into her bedroom and making his way down the hallway. Y/N studied him as he walked towards her, dressed in a gray t-shirt and blue flannel pants.

How handsome.

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest and she smiled at him. "Hey, hero," she said softly, drawing out her words as she did.

She didn't miss the way that the corners of his mouth pulled up as the brightest grin spread across his face or the way that he picked up his pace a little as he walked over to her. Peter threw his arms out to the side when he got close enough to her and he dramatically cupped his hands over her cheeks. Y/N closed her eyes gently as he tilted her head down and touched his lips to her forehead.

Since forehead kisses were her absolute favorite, because of their magical way of making her feel so protected, she leaned into him. She brought her hands up to hold the back of his wrists and she brushed her thumbs over his skin. "Hey, baby," Peter mumbled against her hairline before he leaned his forehead down and pressed it against her own.

Y/N melted at that, seeped through the cracks between the floorboards, because that was so. Damn. Sweet.

Peter had always been super touchy with her, but it had taken him so long to get to this level of comfort around her. When they first started dating, he'd always reached for her hand or sat close enough to where his knee would knock against her own, but that was it.

As time progressed and as he'd opened up to her more, it got easier for him to comfortably pull her onto his lap, hug her from behind, or kiss her cheek when she wasn't paying attention. He'd started calling her pet names, too, and she loved it. She loved being the person that he felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with and to express his feelings around.

She loved him.

Y/N let her hands fall from Peter's and she slipped her arms around his waist affectionately, moving her forehead from his so she could prop her chin up on his shoulder. "I put blankets on the couch and I made cookies, too," she informed him and he pulled back almost instantly.

"You're lying," he gasped, his eyes lighting up like a happy kid's when she shook her head. "What kind?" He asked and she smiled, taking one of his hands in hers so she could pull him next to the couch and give him a good look.

She pointed at the coffee table in the center of the rug, where a nice, white plate of ooey-gooey cookies sat patiently. "Chocolate chunk," she told him and he squeezed her hand excitedly.

"No way, those are my favorite," he said and his enthusiasm made her heart soar.

"I know," she said with a nervous smile. "You swung all the way over here from May's, so I wanted to make sure you had a snack waiting for you," she explained.

Peter laughed at that she he shrugged slightly. "Well," he drawled out with a shit-eating grin on his face, sliding his hands slowly onto her hips. He leaned forwards and kissed the tip of Y/N's nose, gradually starting to back her up into the arm of the couch. "You're here, aren't you?" Peter teased and her head hurt from how hard she rolled her eyes at him.

She scoffed in amusement and a boyish laugh bubbled from his lips. "You're such a dork, Parker," she joked, placing her palm in the center of his chest and giving him a playful shove. He wasn't even fazed by the soft push, he only stepped closer to her again and wrapped his arms around her.

"And somehow, you're still stuck with me," he hummed, squeezing her tightly against his chest before he let himself fall forward, smushing her beneath him as the two of them fell into the couch cushions.

Y/N let out a grunt as he lands on top of her, but she found herself laughing all the same. "I mean, it could be worse," she teased and Peter's chest thundered against hers as he chuckled.

He lifted himself up slightly so he could look down at her and smile. "I love you," he said quietly, his voice so sweet it was almost sickening, and Y/N couldn't help but beam up at him.

"I love you, too," she whispered and she took his cheeks in her hands, bringing his face down so she could kiss him softly. He smiled against her lips, before kissing the corner of her mouth. "Now, hand me a cookie, please," she instructed when he pulled away.

"Whatever you say, boss," he complied, rolling off of her slightly and plucking a cookie off of the coffee table. Y/N held out her hand to take her cookie, but only after taking a decent-sized bite did Peter give it to her. "There you go," he said, his words muffled through a mouthful of crumbs.

Y/N shook her head at him softly, but took her half-eaten cookie all the same. "You're lucky you're cute," she told him playfully and he laughed, burying his face in her shoulder.

↴

a/n / just a quick little imagine! i'm writing a long one at the moment and wanted a fluff break, so i scribbled this up. i didn't put much thought into it so it's super short, but i think it's cute all the same. :) hope you liked it! taglist / @umchrisevans @samsqvatch

[ecfandom]

ok let's see: big city lawyer return to her small town at christmas time to stop some corporate closure and magically fall in love with some woman and her dog

Ah, I love it! This totally got away from me. I’ll do more tomorrow!

***

Okay so Clarke is the youngest partner at Azgeda & Weather, a NYC corporate law firm that handles all the big Fortune 500 companies along the eastern seaboard. Being the youngest partner at the firm means two things: Clarke takes no prisonrs, and the law firm is her life. We’re talking breakfast, lunch and dinner at her desk (a large desk in a large corner office on the top floor, there’s not a lot to complain about honestly), a second wardrobe in the sleek, modern armoir in her office, sheets and pillow tucked under the stylish but massively uncomfortable couch. She has a nice apartment that she’s spending a fortune but there’s no telling why seeing as how she’s never there. 

She’s got a good routine. Up at 4:30 every morning, to the gym for a good “sweat out your rage at the world” session, steaming steaming shower so hot it almost hurts, she dawns her impeccable outfit including her signature pencil skirt which costs more than most people’s monthly rent, then it’s off for her morning juice cleanse and back to the office for her 8am briefing. It’s practiced, its perfected, it’s...necessary. If her day is not scheduled down to the minuted, if she’s not busy, thinking, always occupied...that’s disastrous. That means thinking about all the things she doesn’t want to think about...like how lonely she is, how much her heart still aches from the day her entire life crumbled into a million pieces...

So you can imagine how furious she is when her boss pulls her into his office and tells her to pack her bags, she’ll be spending her Christmas holiday overseeing the closing of the factory at the heart of a small town named, Arkadia...HER small town named Arkadia. 

“This is a joke, right?” She asks, actually laughing in his face. But he doesn’t smile, doesn’t blink in fact, and her heart sinks. It’s not a joke and she’s expected at the airport at 7am the following morning. 

Meanwhile, in that little town across the country, residents are in a full blown panic. The factory in town was just bought out by a big corporation and all operations are shutting down. Of course, this factory employs 95% of the town and these works will have no where to go, no job, and essentially no severance just weeks before Christmas.

The day her aging father comes home and tells his daughter with tears in his eyes that he’s out of the job is the day coffee shop owner, Lexa’s, famous smile falters. Her little shop lies in the heart of the town and sees just about every town member pass through at some point during the week. Lexa’s drinks are dreamy and her shop is warm and cozy. It’s a safe haven and though she’d never acknowledge it, if you asked any neighbor, they’d tell you that the magic has nothing to do with the shop, it’s all Lexa. She’s always got an ear to lend and the fluffy golden retriever that’s always by her side never fails to bring a smile to everyone’s faces. Except this week. This week, the whole town is grieving. 

“I don’t understand how they think they can just come in here and unemploy an entire town of people and get away with it.” Anya, Lexa’s barista and long-time friend, looks scary, and puts on a good show of being tough, but she’s a big softy. But this week, Lexa genuine worries about the safety of her mugs as Anya roughly towels them dry, scowling at the black town car that pulls up outside, clearly from out of town. “How do they fucking sleep at night.” 

“They don’t sleep,” Lexa says. “These are the kinds of people with no lives, no friends, and no conscious.” 

Anya whistles quietly. “They may not have a conscious, but they certainly have something to look at.” 

When Lexa looks up she’s definitely taken by surprise. The beautiful woman walking through the door is nothing like she expected. Strikingly blonde is the only thing that grabs her attention before the sweetness of her face. But that sweetness is impressively overshadowed by the coolness in the woman’s pale, blue eyes the second they connect with Lexa’s. 

Before Lexa can even open her mouth to tell her they’re about to close, the woman is holding up her hand. “Please, before you tell me all the ways in which I am ruining your life and killing your beloved pet, I just need some fucking coffee,” she huffs, not bothering to look at Lexa as she digs through her purse. 

“What a surprise, she’s a raging bitch,” Anya quips, tossing her towel on the counter and walking away when the woman looks up at her and glares. “Sorry, Lex. I’m not serving the wicked witch of the east.”

“Pretty sure it’s wicked witch of the west,” the woman snaps back.

“You’re from the east aren’t you? I rest my case,” Anya says, then looks at Lexa. “You can fire me if you want, but I won’t serve her kind. You’re on your own.” 

“My kind?” The woman mouths, outraged.

Lexa’s shakes her head and grins at her friend’s antics. She’s no happier about these outsiders than the rest of the town, but a customer is a customer. “What can I get you?” She asks, barely taking notice when her trusty pup, Max, gets up from his bed and pads away from her. 

Clarke is momentarily caught off guard by the gentle tone, expecting more of the nastiness she’d been encountering since she landed in the tiny, regional airport. No one recognizes her or if they do, they don’t care that she used to be one of them. Why should they? It’s been 20 years.

Even more startling than the gentle tone is the woman behind it. She’s tall and sturdy, just as handsome as she is pretty. The picture perfect red flannel she wears stretches perfectly along her broad shoulders and she is perhaps the most attractive woman Clarke has ever seen. Not what she was expecting from the tiny town she hoped to never see again.

She’s never one for a loss of words--she’s an attorney for christ’s sake--but this woman has Clarke tongue tied like never before. It takes three attempts for her to order her coffee, granted, the second time was interrupted by a cold wet nose pushing into her hand. Now, sitting at the table in the nearly empty cafe, Clarke can’t stop watching the woman behind the counter. She’s beautiful, in an androgynous sort of way. Sure, she had long, brown hair and pretty green eyes, but there’s was something masculine about her. Something rugged. Whatever it was, Clarke was mesmerized. 

They part ways with little conversation. After all, Clarke is here to ruin all of their lives, and Lexa has to get home to her newly unemployed father who can’t pay for his medical bills without a job, so there’s that. 

They don’t run in to each other again for a day or so, and Lexa can almost forget about her life derailing...until the day she’s in the local bar and she hears an argument break out. Getting up, she moves down the bar to get a better look. A lifetime ago, she was a Marine, and she can’t help but run toward trouble, as her father would always say. 

She’s expecting the usual brawl over a drinking contest or a lost bet, but instead, she finds a few out of place suits almost completely surrounded by a ring of angry factory workers. “Call the police,” she tells Frank, the bartender, knowing what’s about to come. She’s concerned, but not too concerned. There’s still time to de-escelate things with some open conversation, so she moves carefully, cautiously, edging her way into the circle. That is until she sees the woman from from the other night, face scared like a dear in headlights but eyes glinting, ready for a fight. 

Lexa’s unsure of whether she’s more scared for the woman or annoyed. Whoever she is, she’s not afraid to back down, that’s obvious, and that means trouble. And trouble for her, in this town, could very well end in blood. At the head of the confrontation is Sal, a fourth generation factory worker taking the closure the hardest. He’s been stirring up the town for weeks, just waiting for a battle. Lexa is angry like the rest of them but she’s sure as hell not going to let blood be spilled. She’s almost too slow. One moment, she’s telling Sal to back off, the next, a broken beer bottle is hurtling towards the men in suits. In seconds, the two groups converge on each other, and Lexa has just enough time to grab the woman’s arm and yank her out of the middle. Lexa practically picks her up and carries her out the front door just as the police are rushing in. 

Clarke is struggling the entire way, cursing about god knows what under her breath. 

“You’re welcome,” Lexa retorts, dropping the woman into a pile of fresh snow. “Next time I’ll try not to save your life.” 

“Oh don’t be dramatic. I was fine.” 

“You were seconds away from getting the business end of a broken beer bottle shoved into your face. But suit yourself.” 

Lexa’s beginning to walk away when Clarke comes to her senses and goes after her, begrudgingly thanking her. 

“I’m Lexa.” 

“I’m Clarke.” There’s a handshake, and somehow it almost feels like a temporary truce. That and Lexa’s hand is warm and strong and firm. 

For the next several days Lexa can’t shake the fact that she’s a traitor. She can’t get Clarke off her mind and while everyone else is cursing she and her colleague’s existence, Lexa is just hoping to run into her again. Just to get another look at those eyes. There’s something buried there, something Clarke has gotten really good at hiding, and Lexa wants in. 

The next time she sees Clarke, the woman is rushing down the street, a small group of angry residents shouting at her. Lexa sees her coming from the shop window and steps out to pull Clarke inside, just as the group was beginning to converge on her. Clarke makes some quip, laughing it off, but she’s clearly shaken and Lexa has an inexplicable need to protect her. 

She’s in the back making a special drink of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cherries to warm Clarke up, and when she comes back around to the tables, she smiles to see Clarke asleep in a booth, leaning against the wall, Max sitting protectively beside her. 

“Good boy,” she murmurs, patting his head. Clarke rouses and Lexa slides into the opposite booth, watching with a little bit of pride and a lot of sexual attraction as Clarke moaned her delight and thanks at the delicious drink. Lexa tries her best not to blush at Clarke’s sounds of pleasure, but she’s really never been good at hiding her feelings. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Clarke asks. 

“You’re just making a lot of noises.” 

“Noises?” 

“The...moans...and...you know what? Nevermind. Just drink your drink.” 

Clarke smiles like she knows exactly what she’s doing, and she knows flirting with a local is the last thing she should be doing, but Lexa has saved her life now, and she’s handsome and kind and her dog is cute, and Clarke really can’t help it. 

They do this again, the next day, just as the shop is closing. Clarke stays after the doors are locked and they talk for hours. Mostly Lexa talks, and Clarke skirts around her own life with half truths and questions about Lexa. They do it again and again, until it’s almost a routine. 

“Why are you letting this happen?” Lexa finally asks her one day. “You’re not a bad person. You have to do know what this is doing to our town. You may not understand, being from a big city and all, but we’re family.” 

Oh but Clarke does know. She knows because she grew up here. She knows this town better than Lexa does, but she’ll never tell. She can’t revisit those memories. She can’t think about the past. Not without losing the control she has spent her entire life building. She can’t let Lexa into that part of her life, but that doesn’t stop her from falling for the sweet drinks and the even sweeter drink maker. She gives the cowardly answer about her job, her duty, nothing she can do about it, and Lexa just nods because what else is there to say? 

If Lexa is annoyed by her answer, she doesn’t show it. They continue to spend time together and the more they are seen with each other, the more the residents start to relax around Clarke. Some of them even like her, chatting her up when they see her in the cafe. Some of them look at her as if she belongs, as if she’s always belonged, as if they’ve known her from some other lifetime. 

Things feel good. Suspiciously good but Clarke does her best to just let live. Lexa is walking her back to her car one night when they pass the ice skating rink in the town square. 

“Don’t even think about it,” she says when Lexa turns to her with a glint in her eyes. 

Lexa wins, and she’s holding Clarke’s hands, skating backwards to help keep Clarke upright. They can’t stop giggling and it feels like grade school when everything was okay and good and nothing hurt. 

Clarke trips over her own feet and she tumbles into Lexa, laughing. Lexa is strong and sturdy and when Lexa catches her and pulls her close, Clarke is a goner. Looking up into those green eyes, it takes second for her to lean in, looking for a kiss. She’s not even thinking, she’s just wanting. Wanting Lexa. Wanting her close. Wanting to know if her lips are as soft as they look. 

They are. God, they are and it’s perfect. Lexa’s perfect. They’re in the middle of the rink, forcing people to skate around them, but Clarke can’t stop kissing her, and Lexa has no interest in pulling away. 

It’s feels natural, it’s feels right and wonderful and so so good when they go home together that night. It’s been so long since Clarke has opened her heart to anyone, and now that she’s opened it for Lexa, Lexa has it completely. 

Lexa brings her coffee and a croissant in bed, crawling back under the covers to love up on Clarke again as soon as she’s done with her breakfast. It’s noon before they finally get out of the door. Clarke has a meeting and Lexa has to get to the shop. They’re walking together to Clarke’s car, and Lexa’s leaning in for a kiss when Clarke sees a man glaring at them from across the street.

It throws Clarke back into her past so quickly she jerks away from Lexa, dodging a kiss, and getting in her car and driving away without a word. The radio silence last days and Lexa is as pissed as she is heartbroken. They run into each other at a press conference the corporation who bought out the factory holds to inform the residents about the planned demolition. 

Lexa can’t hold back her pain and anger. “I thought you were different from them, but you’re not, are you? You used me. You got me and the town to like you so that what? You’d be left alone long enough to help them destroy us? Is that it? Make me fall for you so I’d let my guard down? Let you get away with this? I feel bad for you, Clarke. I feel bad that you don’t know what it’s like to have a community like this. To have friends and family for neighbors. People you’ve grown up with and lived beside and I pity you.” She’s too angry to realize that she’s admitted to falling for Clarke and she doesn’t give Clarke the chance to say anything before she’s walking away. 

Just days away from the demolition, they’re both miserable. They haven’t talked and when Clarke goes to try to see Lexa to tell her she’s going to make things right because she’s fallen for her to, she can’t be found. She thinks she’s being avoided until she overhears a patron talking about Lexa’s father being in the hospital. Clarke doesn’t think, she just goes. It’s not hard to find out that Lexa’s father got pretty sick and racked up some pretty hefty medical bills that Lexa’s now on the hook for thanks to her father’s unemployment making it impossible to pay for his shitty insurance’s deductible. 

Clarke does the one thing she can think to do to help but she doesn’t dare go to Lexa. Now’s not the time and she knows she’s the last person Lexa wants to see. 

Lexa, of course, is completely at a loss. Her father is still sick and needs to stay at the hospital, but the longer he stays, the bigger the bill gets. She’s distraught and out of options, so imagine her surprise the day she’s informed that her father’s deductible has been paid and his treatments not covered by insurance have been paid for. They can’t tell her who paid it for confidentiality reasons and Lexa doesn’t have time to think too much about it. She has to get her father taken care of and she has to get back to the shop.

Things are starting to feel okay again, except for the fact that she can’t stop thinking about Clarke. The only thing that makes it a little more bearable is the news that the demolition has been paused. Some kind of red tape fiasco. The town makes a collective sigh of relief as the corporate giant loostens it’s grip around their necks. Clarke is nowhere to be found, but Lexa wonders what this means for her. She’s too pissed by Clarke’s disappearance to find out. 

Meanwhile, Clarke is back in NYC, sitting in her office while she is screamed at for pointing out the anti-trust issues with this corporation buying up the factory, creating a monopoly. 

“If the DOJ blocks this acquisition because YOU brought this contract to them, this will be the end of our relationship with Dante Corp! Do you have any idea the money you have cost us?!” 

But Clarke’s not listening. She didn’t care about her job. She didn’t care about the money. She cared for the people of the town. She cared for Lexa’s father. She cared for Lexa and she had to make things right.

A month passes and the entire town is elated when they learn that factory is no longer being bought and demolished and everyone has their jobs back. Someone is still paying off Lexa’s father’s medical bills, beating Lexa to it every time Lexa calls to make her own payment. Her father is back on his feet again and the everything is back to normal. Everything is good. Except it isn’t, because Lexa’s heart is broken and she can’t comprehend how someone as incredible as Clarke could be so selfish. 

She’s tired and feeling particularly down the night she walks into the bar after work and sees that radiant blonde hair at the end of the bar. She doesn’t want to believe it, but when Clarke turns and their eyes meet, Lexa’s breath leaves her and she feels everything all at once. Sadness, elation, betrayal..love. Through it all, it’s still love. 

“Hey,” she says softly, cautiously sitting down beside her. The bar is quiet tonight, but the other patrons are too absorbed in their own conversations to pay them any attention. 

“Hi,” Clarke says, studying the beautiful face that hadn’t left her thoughts for one second since she’d left. 

“I suppose you heard about the factory?” 

Clarke nods, smiling slightly. “I’m so happy for you.” 

“Guess you got unlucky.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“Well, whoever made that contract fall through cost you this client, I imagine.” 

When Clarke doesn’t say anything, Lexa frowns. “What am I missing?” 

Clarke pulls out a trifold of paper and slides it over to Lexa. Lexa picks it up and squints at it. “What is this?” 

“It’s anti-trust suit.” 

“I...I don’t understand.” 

“Magnus Unites, the company that bought Arkadia Beverage Company, which is the company that owns the factory, doesn’t exist and neither does Arkadia Beverage Company.” 

Lexa shakes her head, trying to follow along, but not understanding. “That doesn’t make any sense. What does that mean?” 

“It’s means that Magnus Unites and Arkadia Beverage Company are shell companies. They’re not real. Magnus Corp is actually just Dante Corp and Arkadia Beverage Company was bought out five years ago by Atlantic Foods.

“Dante Corp? As in the Dante Corp that owns practically every product you see in a grocery store?” 

“Yes, exactly.” 

“Okay. So?” 

“So, Dante Corp and Atlantic Foods are the two largest food and beverage packaging companies in the United States. Atlantic Foods is worth 83.7 million dollars. If Dante Corp had bought out Atlantic Foods through this shell company, they would own a complete monopoly on the food packaging industry. It’s illegal.” 

“Holy shit,” Lexa breathes, looking back at the paper. “So someone found out and what? Told?” 

Clarke chuckles. “Yeah. You could say that. This is an anti-trust suit submitted to the Department of Justice. An immediate injunction was ordered and the factory was returned to the previous owners of Arkadia Beverage.” 

“Wow. That’s an incredible.”

Clarke watches her, so fond of the studious, careful way Lexa studied something important. When Lexa looks up, she’s almost startled by the emerald green she had missed you very much. 

“Why do you have this?” 

“You told me I didn’t know what it was like to know a community like this. To live side by side with friends and family.” Clarke pulls out an old, worn picture from her purse and slides it towards Lexa. 

Lexa looks down at young Clarke, beaming between two people she could only assume were her parents. Behind them stood a building Lexa knew like the back of her hand.

“That’s my shop,” she murmurs, looking at Clarke confused. 

“When I lived here, it was a pizza parlor,” Clarke murmurs. 

Lexa nods. “The kitchen still smells like pepperoni.”  Clarke laughs and nods, and Lexa nearly jumps up at the sight of tears in Clarke’s eyes. “Clarke?” 

“Those are my parents,” Clarke says, looking down at the photo. “We had pizza night every Friday at that parlor. It was something we’d done for as long as I can remember.” Clarke uses her pointer finger to drag the photo closer to her. “They died,” she murmurs, her voice taught with restrained tears. “Drunk driver. The cameras caught him clearly...but the prosecuting attorney was paid off. He didn’t see a single day of jail time. I was twelve.” 

“Clarke, god, I’m so sorry.” 

Clarke looks up, blinking back tears. “This was my home. These people were my home. And having this community was the only thing that got me through. When I left, the only thing I could think about was going to law school and making sure what happened to me never happened to anyone else. Somewhere along the way I fell into corporate law, and I forgot why I was even doing this. Family and friends are everything.” She shrugs. “I had to make it right. For them.” Then, she looks up at Lexa, her eyes earnest and sorry. “For you.” 

Lexa swallows back her own emotions. “Why did you leave back then?” 

Clarke laughs bitterly. “After my parent’s died I lived with my neighbors for a while. They had a daughter my age and we were best friends. Eventually, we were more than friends. On my thirteenth birthday, we were at park watching a meteor shower. She told me she wanted to kiss me and I let her. I was over the moon. There had been so much pain since my parents dies, and here was this perfect, little moment, to distract me for a little while. The next thing I know, some man is running towards us, shouting at us, asking us how dare we do such things in public. It’s a small town. Word travels fast. When her parent’s found out, they kicked me out. And I never came back.” 

Lexa wants nothing more than to pull her into her arms and hold her, never letting her go, but Clarke is already sliding off the bar stool and putting the paper and photo back into her purse. 

“I’m sorry I ran on you, and I’m sorry I left without saying good bye. You didn’t deserve that. And I’m not here for forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that nothing between us was ever fake. I never had ulterior motives or...nefarious plans. I never planned for you. But there you were, and I couldn’t help it. It was just you. It was only every you.”

“Clarke, I--” 

But the door to the bar swings open and a rowdy crowd tumbles in from the snow storm. Lexa looks up at the commotion, feels herself get jostled as people push towards the empty bar stools. When she looks around, Clarke is gone. She goes to find her and steps on a piece of paper on the floor. 

She picks it up and unfolds it, confused at first at what she’s looking at. It’s a medical bill. With her father’s name on it. No, not a bill. A receipt. A receipt for a recent payment for the last installment of her father’s payment plan on his medical expenses. And under the payer’s information...is Clarke’s name. 

“Oh, Clarke,” Lexa murmurs, her eyes brimming. She runs out of the bar, but Clarke is nowhere to be found. 

***

Clarke is just settling onto her couch having dawned her paid, flannel pajamas and whipped up a big bowl of drown your sorrows flavored ice cream. The best part of losing her job is that she finally gets to enjoy her fancy apartment with the best view of the city she’s ever seen. She plans to wallow in her big fancy apartment and watch RomComs until she can’t keep her eyes open anymore because she’s sick of being alone with her thoughts. 

She’s contemplating adding in a bath to this plan when there’s a knock at her door. She frowns, but is not entirely sure that she didn’t forget that she ordered delivery, so she goes to the door anyways. For all the fancy features of her apartment, there is no peep hole and she is too depressed bother for any self preservation. She opens the door, ready either to accept her forgotten order or yell at the solicitor knocking on her door at 9 o’clock at night. 

But it’s not delivery and it’s not a solicitor. It’s Lexa. Lexa with those sweet eyes and gentle smile. Lexa with a piece of paper in one hand and roses in another. 

“Oh god,” is all Clarke manages to get out before she’s crying. 

She cries harder when she feels Lexa’s arms around her, holding her close. “I’m so sorry,” Clarke says, and neither of them are sure what she’s sorry for. Clarke is just so damn thankful to see her. 

Lexa holds her and presses kisses to Clarke’s hair until she calms, then she pulls back and brushes away Clarke’s tears from her cheeks.

“How did you know where I live?” Clarke asks, sniffling and leaning into Lexa’s sure body. 

Lexa holds up the medical bill receipt and Clarke colors, finally caught. 

“You should have told me,” Lexa says gently, so incredibly in love with the teary-eyed woman in front of her. “This was too much, Clarke.” 

Clarke shakes her head. “It was the least I could do.” 

“I don’t know how to thank you.” 

Clarke’s eyes brim again and she shrugs, shyly. “I don’t need any thanks, Lex. I did it because...I love you.” 

Lexa grins and puts the receipt aside, taking Clarke’s face into her hands. “You have no idea how much I love you,” she says and captures Clarke’s lips. Lexa could kiss her forever, but Clarke can’t stop smiling and of course that makes Lexa laugh. 

They pull away, but keep each other close. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s supposed to bring you flowers,” Clarke says, gesturing to the roses Lexa had put down on the table inside the door. 

“Why’s that?” 

“I’m the one who messed up.” 

Lexa shakes her head. “I let you walk away from me three times. Do it once, shame on you. Do it twice, shame on me. Do it three times, and well, I think I went and lost my damn mind for a minute, but it’s back, and it can’t stop thinking about you.” 

Clarke smiles and leans in, kissing her again. “How long do we have?” 

Lexa pulls a slip of paper out of her back pocket and holds it up. “It’s a one way ticket, love. We’ve got all the time in the world.”