#ill finish the writing prompt asks soon i swear

[thejediandthemandalorian]

Me patiently waiting for my energy and motivation to come back so I can work on all these codywan fics

[imagines-by-cleo]

I hope your illness gets better soon!! This is my first time requesting, and sorry my English is bad. It is not my native language.

I really like Miller from MGSV. So, I’m so happy that you write about him! Can I request a fic that the reader walks into Miller drinking alone, and he being drunk accidentally confesses to the reader?

Please take your time. Get well soon, and I hope you have a nice day🤗

Thank you so much friend! It's so nice to hear you enjoy my fics and it's great to get back into writing with these requests, I am grateful for every single one of them!

This ended up being super long and super fluffy but I had fun writing (cause omg I love Kaz) it and I think you'll like it too, idk if you wanted smut but that's what I wrote and if you want to avoid it you can stop after the page divider. I'm finishing these requests slow but I swear I am finishing them and I'm trying to make them worth the wait. I appreciate your patience but most of all I appreciate the time everyone takes to read these.

CW: Alcohol, whump, fluff, consent is sexy, nipple play, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), masturbation, dirty talk, unprotected sex

The overwhelming stench of warm sake filled your nose before you even opened the door to Miller's office, telling you exactly how you were going to spend the rest of the night. As you stepped in you found the room covered in a cloud of smoke from a kiseru pipe while music from at least a decade prior played loudly.

"Master Miller?" You called, though he didn't answer.

There he was sitting behind his desk in a daze, half here and half in the 70s, not even noticing your presence until you snuck over and turned the record player off. Grabbing a nearby wastebin you made short work of clearing out the many bottles around the room, one of which was still in his hand as he tried to pour the last few drops directly into his mouth.

"We should get some tequila shipped in." He mused.

"We had some. You drank it." You said a little too bluntly, but he probably wouldn't remember if you were being rude.

"One time... Back in MSF I had to much tequila and... I don’t really remember but the guys told me they had to get me down from a table and put my pants back on." His expression would change every time he trailed off from looking like he could cry to trying not to bust out laughing, but it was nice to see a twinkle in those clouded blue eyes.

You held in a snicker while you listened, it might have been nice to see Kaz in his party days but you're sure you would have to do the same thing you did now only you would have to wrestle his pants back on and he would have two more limbs to fight you off with.

Speaking of, you looked around for his crutch but couldn't find it anywhere, it had a funny way of disappearing when Kaz was drinking. With a sigh you walked up to his chair and grabbed his arm to stand him up, he leaned into you when you put his arm around your shoulder to walk him out.

"Wait a minute." He held a finger up, then pointed it at the desk where his sunglasses were sitting, prompting you to take them and gently put them on his face before leaving.

"Happy now?" You asked, only getting a hum in response.

It was becoming routine to help him out like this, normally you didn't think twice about it but tonight there was something about the heat coming from his body and the faint sweet smell of smoke carried in his clothes that made you realize how intimate the situation was. It was somewhat against protocol to be this close with a commanding officer but maybe it had the potential to become more than that. It was hard to admit now, but that was part of the reason you came here tonight. Only you couldn't really ask him about his feelings while he was completely wasted, the least you could do was make sure he was taken care of.

Putting the thought away as you left his office you headed toward his room, it wasn’t far but it felt much longer with an entire man slumped over your shoulder. While you were struggling Kaz was having the time of his life, humming a song and occasionally mumbling the words out of tune.

When you got to his room you found it was both bare and a complete mess. No pictures or anything to decorate the dull grey walls, clothes were thrown haphazardly on the floor and unmade bed and the only window had blackout curtains drawn closed. You stepped carefully through the mess, trying not to let yourself or Kaz trip on anything that had been left around.

This was the first time you had actually been inside since he would stagger back in alone once you got him this far but tonight he had been drinking too much to even do that. Its not that it was any of your business, but after discovering how he lived you started to get worried.

"Hey, I noticed you've been drinking more since the Boss brought home those MSF soldiers that were wandering around. I hope it's not bringing back any unpleasant memories." You pointed out figuring your best shot at getting clarification was while he was like this.

For a minute as he got quiet you were worried he was about to get angry at you, but to your surprise he answered honestly. "No, they're good memories. But that's all they are."

Deciding not to press the issue further, you changed the subject. "Let's get you to bed."

"You take such good care of me, that's why I love you." He laughed.

"Yeah, right." You replied, it was a strange thing for him to say but you chalked it up to him being drunk.

Sliding out from under his arm you proceeded to stand him up carefully as he swayed side to side, pulling his coat off quickly before he tipped over completely without your help. A blush rose on your cheeks when you unbuttoned his shirt, maybe it wasn't completely necessary but you didn't want him just falling asleep in it. Hesitating a moment when you reached for his glasses, once you uncovered his eyes you noticed how they had been fixed on you as if he was looking for something.

"What is it?" You asked.

The hand threading into your hair and cradling the back of your head caught you off guard, before you knew it Kaz' lips were on yours. The taste of sake was still strong and his mouth was so warm, you put your hands on his broad chest but couldn't find the strength to push him back. He pulled away just to continue across your jaw and behind your ear, you shuddered at the feeling, wishing you could just give in to it.

"Kaz, wait." You interrupted.

He stopped almost immediately but he stayed where he was, whispering his confession into your ear. "I meant it."

"You're drunk." You replied, pushing him into a seated position on the bed.

"Come here." He told you before dragging you down onto his lap, his poor balance causing the two of you to fall back onto the mattress together.

His body fit perfectly against yours while he kissed you again, it felt so natural to have him hold you like this that you were tempted to just give in. The groan he made when he rolled his hips up into you vibrated through your whole body, making you gasp in response after feeling the hard bulge that pressed into your thigh.

You lifted yourself up and looked down at him, pushing a golden strand of hair away from his pink face revealing his half lidded eyes that locked with yours.

"We can't do this." You sighed, climbing off the bed. "Not tonight."

He grabbed your hand before you walked away, so he could request. "Stay with me at least?"

Staring at the door, you contemplated what you should do before answering. "I'll stay until you fall asleep."

A low snore from behind told you that would be sooner than you thought, you turned and found Kaz was already fast alseep. You smacked your palm to face in frustration, more upset with yourself for expecting anything different.

Did that bastard really just confess his love to you and then pass out drunk? At the very least you knew you had made the right decision to turn him down for now anyway, but this was going to make for a delicate situation the next day if he even remembered half of what happened. How would you even go about explaining it to him, and would he expect a reaction from you?

With a tired groan you looked around the room for something to tidy up and keep you busy while you pushed the important questions off until tomorrow.

An all to bright ray of sunlight shining straight onto his face woke Kaz up, muttering curses he squeezed his eyes shut while reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. He knew exactly where they were though he didn't remember setting them there, come to think of it he didn't even remember how he got into his room last night but he wasn't inclined to think too hard about it now.

He sat up slowly to not irritate his throbbing head or aching body, leaning on the wall as he staggered into the bathroom. There was a bottle of water and some seltzer waiting on the sink, he didn't bother to question who put it there, as far as he was concerned it was a gift from God.

After chugging his drink and splashing some water on his face Kaz stared in the mirror, questioning the actions that put him here once again, but all the regret in the world wasn't going to change the fact that he was going to have to get dressed sooner or later. Instinctively he looked around the floor for his clothes finding they were all gone, someone had neatly folded yesterday's clothes and set them on his dresser while the rest were put in the drawers. There wasn't much he remembered about the night before but he was damn sure he didn't do any of that and before he could wonder how they got there he heard a stirring across the room.

Kaz nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned to find you sleeping curled up in an armchair. Knowing you had been there all night answered the question of why his room was so clean, but he was starting to feel guilty for having brought you here in the first place.

He came up to you as quietly as possible, you looked kinda cute, laying there with the sun shining on your messed up hair as you softly snored. Kaz found himself wishing he woke up next to this in his bed rather than across the room. He watched for a minute noticing the way you had your arms wrapped around your body, you must have been cold, immediately he went to grab a blanket from his bed and draped it gently over you. A satisfied smile rose on his face while he watched you snuggle into the warmth, his hand lingered on your shoulder after tucking you in. Slowly your eyes fluttered open, still hazed and tired as you looked up at him.

"Did you get that water I left for you?" You asked.

"Yeah, I did." He answered, he should have figured that was from you.

"That's good." You replied while yawning, wiggling around to get comfortable. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I don't know why you're still worried about me." He laughed, it was strange the way you looked after him when all he could really do was bring you a blanket.

"Someone has to be." You answered, rubbing your eyes and makeing the dark circles under them more apparent. "Besides, you were pretty wasted last night."

"Right, I must have kept you up pretty late. Why don't you take my bed and get some rest?" He requested, reachingout to you. "Do it for me."

Kaz led you over to the bed just a few feet away while you staggered over half awake without even questioning him. He tucked you in again before turning to leave and get ready for for his day if it wasn't too late.

"I don't know why you stayed here and went through all this trouble." He mumbled, more to himself than anything.

"You told me to stay last night." You answered, to his surprise.

"I hope that's all I told you." He laughed.

"Well there was one thing..." You continued, sitting up, the words sendinga chill down his spine. "You made a move on me, you kissed me actually."

Kaz really shouldn't have been surprised, he knew he had feelings for you since the day he met you but he wasn't about to tell anyone. It was only a matter of time until something slipped out, especially when you were around so much. He spent those few precious seconds of silence racking his brain to try and remember what exactly he said and more importantly how to respond.

"It was kinda nice knowing you felt the same way, but I wish you'd told me when you weren't drinking; or maybe when we both were." You shrugged, looking up at him in this sweet innocent way that he just couldn't stand.

"Listen..." He started, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "I appreciate everything you've done, in fact I'm in more debt to you than I like to think about, but don't you think you'd be better off spending your time doing something else? With someone else?"

"I like spending time with you." You answered, reaching for his hand. "And I don't mind helping out every now and then."

"I don't deserve someone like you taking care of me." He confessed, it felt harsh coming out but he couldn't just let you keep doing this.

He wasn't expecting you to say anything after that, much less turn his face toward you and kiss him. It was his last chance to push you away but he wanted you more than he should have and let you come closer.

When you broke off you whispered "Please, don't talk about yourself like that."

It was a little jarring to have you showing him affection like that, every nice thing you did confused him and he always felt guilty for wanting more but he never thought he was more than a burden to you. Knowing you really felt for him changed everything, and his heart pounded as he allowed himself to be vulnerable for just once.

You crawled over, straddling his lap before taking his sunglasses off. He wrapped his arm around you while you shared a deep and thoughtful stare for a good long while.

"I love seeing your eyes." You broke the silence.

He just had to kiss you after that, holding you tighter while his lips moved softly against yours. For a brief moment he felt your tongue touch his bottom lip, inviting him to to take the opportunity and explore your mouth with his own. He slid his tongue in deep and fast making you moan in surprise before simply allowing him free access to taste you. You pressed your chest into his without breaking the kiss, taking his hand and guiding it under your shirt to touch between your breasts and for a second he could feel your heart beating fast.

Circling one nipple with his thumb, he felt it perk up in his hand until it was stiff, that made it much easier to pinch and tease making you twitch in his grasp. He lifted your shirt up higher so he could pop the other nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and gently sucking.

While he was playing with your tits you unbuttoned your pants, doing your best to pull one leg out of them without climbing off his lap. Pushing him away just for a moment to take his shirt off before pulling him back against your chest, running your fingers through his messy hair while he continued.

Your other hand drifted down, exploring his chest and anywhere else that you could. Then you reached for his boxers, tugging at the waistband before he caught your hand by the wrist.

"Not so fast, it's my turn to take care of you." Kaz stopped you, he would have loved to get out of that increasingly tight fabric but he had plans fo you first.

"But I wanna-" You whined.

He cut you off. "Do I have to pull the commanding officer card?"

You giggled. "Maybe."

"Alright. Spread your legs as far as you can. That's an order." He told you before tugging your pants the rest of the way down, and your panties along with it.

Starting by running his hand across your folds, making sure you were good and wet before he teased your entrance. Sliding a single finger in and out slowly, he pulled it all the way out before stuffing it back in as far as it would go then curling it inside you.

"Ah! Do that again!" You cried out, prompting him to go faster.

You held on to his shoulders, leaning in to kiss his neck between desperate pants. Kaz sighed at the soft touch of your wet lips and the warmth of your quick breaths. Pressing the heel of his palm against your clit made you roll your hips into him. It wasn't long until he had you cumming all over his hand and squeezing his fingers tight, your whole body shaking as you gripped him tighter to keep your balance.

After your last few spasms he fell back onto the soft sheets, kneading his fingers into your thigh and guiding you to climb over until you were straddling his face. It was like you read his mind when you lowered yourself onto his lips, and he wasted no time licking up every drop of wetness that dribbled out of you. He groaned at the sweet sticky flavor of you, reaching his tongue into your core and swirling it around to taste more.

Taking notice of how your legs would flex and shake around him, he also noiticed he couldn't hear you making any kind of noise. Pausing and looking up he noticed you were bitting down hard on your bottom lip, most likely in an effort to keep quiet.

"Hey! Don't hold back. Let me hear it." Kaz ordered, slapping the inside of your thigh.

Moaning immediately in response you didn't hold anything back, even when the sounds you made weren't so dignified. Though every little noise from you went straight to his crotch and he could feel himself twitching in his boxers that were starting to get just a little too tight. It was hard not to get off with a sense of pride when he made you cum once with his fingers and again into his mouth, if you weren't completely numb yet you would have felt him grining like a maniac against your sensitive skin.

It was easy enough to toss you over onto your back, you were putty in his hands while he pushed your legs apart and situated your body just how he needed it. The whole time you looked at him with this hungry half lidded gaze, something more sensual than anything you'd see in a magazine.

"Haven't had enough yet?" He teased, making you shake your head.

The front of his boxers were a tented mess, his swollen cock leaking and begging to be touched. Kaz couldn't help bit give it a few strokes before he lined it up, throwing his head back in relief of finally getting some stimulation. The thought crossed his mind to just keep pumping and finish all over you, but something told him he could make you cum one more time.

Climbing over you and starting slow, only giving your overstimulated pussy few inches at a time. You made a low whine that made his cock twitch when his entire length was inside, you lifted your knees up to your chest, welcoming him in deeper.

Everything about you at this point was a dripping mess, and Kaz loved it. From the way your hair was tossed to the dazed look in your eyes, and how your tits still wet with his spit would heave with every breath. Having you bucking up into him still desperate as all hell was just cherry on top.

"Never thought I'd see you like this." He remarked.

"Get used to it." You teased between moans.

Every move he made seemed to elicit some new decadent reaction, the way you were gasping and moaning under him like he was taking the very air out of your lungs made his heart pound. He could only deduce that you were about to cum again and he adjusted accordingly, with a few harsh targeted thrusts that rattled the bed beneath you he had you babbling his name one last time while your thighs twitched and eventually went limp.

He was trying to keep his weight off of you by staying propped up on his arm, until you hooked your arms under his shoulders and pulled him down closer to you. Closing what little distance you had between the two of you had him sinking in even deeper, making him groan at the feeling of being completely engulfed by you.

"You feel so good." He panted, picking up the pace. "You're gonna make me..."

Kaz was about to pull out before you wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him locked inside until it was too late. The warmth of your body burning him up and the sound of his wet skin hitting yours was getting to be more than he could handle. Pushing into you with a last few shallow thrusts, his pulse was racing and he even felt his knees twitch while he emptied inside of you.

There was no way of telling how long the two of you sat like that, he couldn't move or even think and you were still holding onto him for dear life. When he did eventually get some control back he kissed you deeply, only breaking of to suck in a little bit of air before pressing his mouth to yours again. When he pulled away you reached up and pushed the hair away from his face so you could see his eyes, not saying anything but but simply sharing a deep moment.

"I hope you weren't planning on walking anywhere today." He teased, still out of breath.

"You're lucky it's my day off." You replied.

"I guess I am pretty lucky." He chided, rolling off of you.

Something sharp poked into his side making him jump, he reached to see what the object was only to find his sunglasses now bent out of shape. Before he could even curse about it you took them out of his hand and put them on, making him laugh at the lopsided lenses only covering half your face.

"I guess you're not going anywhere without these." You commented.

"It's already too late to get work done anyway." He remarked.

"Oh no, we'll just have to stay in our big comfy bed for the rest of the day." You teased, voice dripping with sarcasm while you laid your head on his chest.

"That doesn't sound too bad." He laughed, wrapping his harm around you.

Laying there together, watching the sun rise higher outside and forgeting about work one soft sigh at a time. It was more than Kaz could have hoped for when he woke up with a hangover. He wasn't sure what he did to deserve this, but he'd have to figure it out so it could happen again.

"Hey..." You broke the silence when you looked up at him grinning. "Tell me that story about you getting drunk in MSF and taking your pants off."

"Wha- Who told you about that?" He stammered.

"You did." He should have known.

"Right, well anyway. This was back when we first got to Costa Rica and we found this little cantina by..."

While Kaz continued his story he thought about how he would normally feel about the old days, using the the anger he felt at the loss of his home and his comrades as a reason to go on and seek vengeance. All his life now was just looking in the past and only going forward to try and find a way to restore it, until now he felt that was the only way. Maybe it was time for a change. Hearing you laugh and smile at his stupid stories made him realize there was a possibility of a future and a new home, and it was all right in front of him.

[etsuven]

♡♡Prompt List♡♡

here is the prompt list!! (ft. fischl and her unfairly photogenic self)

more prompts will probably be added!!

sfw prompts

from creative writing prompts

romantic one liners

oblivious and flirty

“I could listen to you all day.”

“Have I already told you how cute you look?”

“One kiss is just never enough.”

“Not to sound cheesy, but your smile really lights up the room.”

“I cannot find the words to describe how I feel about you.”

“Being happy, fortunately coincides with making you happy.”|

“Call me when you get home, so I know you’re safe.”

“Tonight was just perfect.”

“However many years we have left, I want to spend them all with you.”

“I have the feeling that you’re trying not to kiss me and I give you permission to just do it.”

“You remembered my favorite food.”

“Sometimes, being with you feels like a dream that I don’t ever want to wake up from.”

“Being half-asleep is a very good look on you.”

“You can always talk to me, I will always be here for you.”

“I’ve missed you so much.”

first kiss prompts

-“Thank you, and I’m going to wash the sweater you lent me and give it back to you as soon as possible.” “Oh, please keep it. I like you wearing it.” “Really? I thought it was your favorite one.”

-“Why are you blinking like that with your eyes? Is everything ok?” “That was supposed to be a wink!”

-“I like your costume, you look very cute.” “Are you making fun of me?”

-“It’s so cold, you should hold my hand, so it doesn’t freeze.” “I’m not that cold, I can give you my gloves if you want.”

-“I would very much like to kiss you right now.” “Please.”

-“I’m not sure how to…” “Just follow my lead.”

-“Is it ok if I kiss you?” “I would like that very much.”

-“I knew I would love kissing you, but it this was…” “Even better than the dream?” “Yes.”

-“This would probably the perfect moment for a kiss…” “And we probably shouldn’t waste it.”

-“I would like to show you how I good I feel when I’m with you.”

-“I’ve never done this before. I’m probably not going to be great at it.”

-“Neither have I. But we could figure it out together.”

from fayesfairylights

smutty prompts (techncially all of the ones under this text are smutty one liners but i don't feel like changing the numbers around-)

remember- DOM READER ONLY

1: “we’re in public, you know”

2: “you were always more than just a one night stand to me”

3: “stop teasing so much” ‘make me’

4: “bite me” ‘if you insist’

5: “mine” ‘say it again’

6: “we can’t do that here!”

7: “all you had to do was ask”

8: “either take it off, or I will happily do it for you.”

9: “I don’t care what you do just as long as you do me.”

10: “were you just touching yourself?” ‘yeah, what are you gonna do about it?’

11: “do you think they could hear us?” ‘yes we can.’

12: “this sofa costs fifteen thousand dollars, don't you dare ruin it” ‘guess ill just have to cum in you then’

13: “were just…friends.” ‘friends don't do this type of shit!’

14: “how quickly can you cum?”

15: “just let me finish this and I swear I will go down on your and make you cum three times.”

16: “the only way you are gonna get off is on my thigh.”

17: “tell me how you want it.”

18: “there’s no way I’m gonna let you wear that in public” ‘why not?’ “cause It would be a shame to rip it off in front of a hundred people, such nice material.”

19: “I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so badly.”

20: “take off your clothes, but leave the heels on.”

21: “shut up.” ‘well why don't you come over here and make me?’

22: “you aren’t taking me to bed….ever.” ‘who said it had to be a bed?’

23: “for the love of fuck.” ‘yeah that's me, I love to fuck.’

24: “would you re consider if you were sober?”

25: “they may be all lollipops and candy bars, but I bet behind closed doors they're hand cuffs and gags.”

smutty one-liners

from creative writing prompts

1: “I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist.”

2: “Don’t act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago.”

3:“We should probably leave, before we start a scandal.”

4: “Stop looking at me like that or my knees will not hold me any longer.”

5: “Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

6: “The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind.”

7: “I want to count every one of your freckles with my lips.”

8: “Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you.”

9: “I could make you feel better.”

10: “You’re a lot more flexible than I thought.”

11: “I want to please you.”

12: “Your shirt got a little dirty, how about we take it off?”

13: “I want to give you a hickey, so everyone can see how I feel about you.”

14: “Do you want to take it off or should I do it for you?”

15: “I never imagined you to be so sensitive, but I love it.”

16: “Maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense.”

17: “If we weren’t in public right now…”

18: “Your hand feels much better than my own.”

19: “As soon as we’re both sober, we can do every dirty little thing you ever dreamed of.”

20: “Come on, you have to work for it.”

21: “I’ll take it that you like what you see.”

22: “Your moans will wake everyone up and I’m oddly fine with that.”

23: “Your eyes are already saying yes, now I just need your mouth to tell me the same.”

24: “I can never seem to get enough of you.”

25: “How about we continue this somewhere more private?”

26: “Oh, can you feel this?”

27: “We won’t be missed for a couple hours, we should take advantage of that.”

28: “Reality is even better than my dreams.”

29: “I told you, you would eventually start begging.”

30: “You always know so well what I like.”

31: “Oh, you’re such a tease!”

32: “I’m not necessarily hungry for food right now.”

33: “You’re so tense, do you want me to make you more relaxed?”

34: “Hmm, is that a threat or a promise?”

35: “Who would have thought that this is something that you’re into?”

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.11

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Eleven: I Know It’s Over: Things get a little more clearer as you deal with the pain Spencer caused. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, jealousy, talk of breakup/s, mentions of alcohol consumption / intoxication, serious serious angst, this whole series is a real slow burn.

series masterlist

A/N: everyone go thank @ellesgreenaway​ for getting me out of my writing rut just in time to get this chapter done! and as always, i wanted to reiterate how fucking grateful i am that y'all are reading, and liking, this little story! it means the world to me! also, i didn't reread this so there may some mistakes ill fix later, sorry!!

-

People love weekends. They’re like a mini holiday. A break from the tedious and repetitive cycle that is Monday to Friday. Weekends are time spent away from the office, your profession and whatever that entails. They are time spent away from completing menial tasks. A break.

Saturdays and Sundays help regain all of the lost energy. When people get caught up in everyday life, weekends remind them to enjoy the simple things. They gives the opportunity to try new things, visit family and friends, or allow to simply spend some time alone. People love weekends.

Your weekend however, was an utter blur.

Aiding a killer hangover on Saturday, you opted to spend the day in bed. A plastic bucket within your reach and a bottle of water on the side table. You slept a lot. Partially to ease the headache, but mainly to ease the pain you were experiencing in your chest. The heartache.

The only thing you could remember from the night before was Spencer completely shattering your hopes and dreams, and the first six shots of tequila you took after at a nearby bar. You weren't entirely sure how you got home; the next morning Ethan clarified he picked you up after the bartender rang him using your phone. Not one of your proudest moments.

Your lack of motivation carried onto Sunday. The grief you were experiencing was not unfamiliar, after all Spencer’s broken up with you before. Although this time the agony that accompanied it felt a lot more intense. You couldn't move, or eat, or even shower. You were frozen. Stuck to the bed as if it was your only lifeline.

Thankfully Ethan was working both days. In your eyes, he was too preoccupied to notice something was wrong. Unbeknown to you however, he knew exactly the reason behind your melancholy.

The weekend soon ended, almost as soon as it began. Monday morning rolled around and with it the encouragement to get out of bed. Not like you wanted to. If you had it your way, you would never leave the comfort and safety of your duvet again. You knew however, you couldn't stay home without at least some of your colleagues questioning your absence, asking what was wrong. No. It was time to face reality.

Time to face Spencer.

The brunette doctor was sat at his desk. He arrived to work today earlier than usual, about four hours early to be exact. He made his usual cup of coffee and since then he hasn't moved an inch, just staring silently at his phone.

It wasn't something he done often, honestly he only carried the thing around for work purposes. But something happened that he couldn't quite get over.

On Saturday morning, Spencer woke up to a message left on his voicemail. A message from you.

At first it was hard to decipher what you were saying, or rather what you were mumbling. Between the drunken hiccups, slurred speech, and obnoxious background noise, Spencer initially thought it was a butt dial. It must have been, right? He was after breaking your heart for a second time, why would you leave him a voicemail?

However, hearing your melodic tone just saying his name, prompted Spencer to listen to the message again. It was then he really heard the distorted words coming out of your mouth.

“Spencerrrrrr, I uh I don't believe yo-ou. I know-w in uh my hearrrt-t you d-didn't mean it.” Hiccup. “P...p-please let’ssss forgetuh abo-ut it.” Hiccup. “I-I love youh-uh anddd I kno-ow you love meeee. I jussst kno-w.” Hiccup. “I-I me-an you uh couldn't-t even look me-e in the eye when you sss-said it.... please-e S-Spencer-”

The message cuts off and he’s left dumbfounded.

Blood drained from his face. The voicemail registered in his brain and he suddenly felt dizzy. Nauseous even. His hands began to tremble in his lap, and he swore if he wasn't sitting down he would have fainted.

By Monday, Spencer had listened to the voicemail a painstakingly two-hundred and eleven times. He had it memorised, and yet he kept playing it over and over again just to hear your voice.

As he sat at his desk, waiting for his colleagues to arrive, he wondered whether you remembered sending it. Truthfully, he hoped you didn't. It would be easier to move on that way - as if moving on from you was an option.

The glass door opened and he heard a faint sound of footsteps walk across the bullpen. Footsteps Spencer would honestly recognise anywhere. Taking in a deep breath, he glanced up from his phone and slightly turned his head, his gaze landing on you.

The air caught in Spencer’s throat, the voicemail instantly replaying in his head.

He wondered what you were thinking. Simply by looking at you he could tell you were in pain. Pain he caused, and he hated himself for it. Having spent countless hours over Saturday and Sunday rethinking the situation, he knew he made a mistake. He should have never given into Ethan’s smug demands. And even if, he should have told you what happened. Leave the choice up to you, as it was in the first place.

It was too late now to fix this, Spencer knew even if you remembered sending the voicemail you wouldn't listen to what he had to say anyway. Selfishly, he wanted you to look at him. He wanted to gaze into your eyes as the drunken message replayed in his mind yet again.

And although you could feel his eyes on you, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his stare. No. The heartache would only intensify. This was a mistake. You should have stayed home. With a blank expression, you placed your bag on your desk and hurried in the direction of the office kitchenette.

Spencer on the other hand followed you with his gaze. Every fibre of his being screamed to follow you, to talk to you. But he was completely frozen and remained glued to his own chair. Once again, a true display of cowardliness.

By lunch time, the whole team picked up on the odd dynamic between you and the handsome doctor. Two people that spent every waking moment together were no longer speaking to one another.  It didn't take a profiler to see something was wrong.

You hid in Penelope’s lair with the bubbly blonde and Tara. Enjoying a couple minutes of peace away from the prying eyes of everyone you worked with, most importantly however, away from Spencer.

“So chicken, are you going to tell us what’s wrong?” Garcia enquired, taking a mouthful of her lunch. “Because a blindman could see something is off, and don't you dare telling me I’m delusional or something.”

“Penelope is right, Y/N. Last time you were this silent and upset was when Spencer was in prison.”

You let out a deep sigh at the sound of his name. It was no use hiding your feelings from them, they would figure it out eventually. Plus these were the people you trusted more than anything in the world. If you couldn't tell them, then who could you tell what was going on?

“It’s something similar.” You mumbled, avoiding their gaze. “Just much much worse this time...”

“Well whatever it is, you can tell us. We’re here for you.” Penelope chimed, and reached out her hand to grab yours. She gave it a gentle squeeze and shot you a reassuring smile.

“Yes, exactly. We will support you through anything, you know that.” Tara added nodding along.

You sniffled. What were becoming all too familiar tears formed in the corners of your eyes, and you knew you would break down at any given second. Taking in a long breath, you began to tell the two girls everything that’s happened since your engagement. They listened attentively, never turning their attention away from you. As they listened, they both held your hands and took turns whispering ‘it’s okay’ or ‘take your time’.

“I’m going to kill our resident genius. He won't know what’s coming.” Penelope murmured after you finished in an attempt to lighten the mood. The corners of your lips twitched ever so slightly upwards as you wiped the tears away from your face.

“What are you going to do?” Tara asked after a congenial moment of silence.

“Ehm...” You cleared your throat. “S-Spencer wants nothing to do with me, but uhm... I after everything I c-can’t, I just can't be with Ethan. I can’t-t.”

The girls both nodded their heads, and even though they understood exactly what you meant by what you were saying, you still felt like you had to say the words aloud. For your own sake.

“So, uhm, I-I’m going to break up with Ethan. I-I’m going to end the engagement.” You stated, and even though your heart still ached, you felt as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. You felt free.

And I know it's over - still I cling I don't know where else I can go 

-

A/N: as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @ellesgreenaway

[ibijau]

jin ling / oyzz 32 pls!! :3c ❤️ u!!

so blocked on other things that I’m finally getting back to my prompts yay

If there was one thing Jin Ling had learned early on, it’s that fate hates him. His familial situation is good proof of this, though it is his love life that makes it the most obvious.

At twelve, he developed a crush on a girl from another sect who was staying in Jinlin Tai as a guest disciple. She was about two years older than him, pretty as the sunrise on Yunmeng’s lake, and strong enough to break a fierce corpse’s neck with her bare hands. It took Jin Ling weeks to decide how to talk to her, and when he finally did, an enormous pimple appeared right in the middle of his nose, disfiguring him. Jin Ling tried every remedy he could buy to bring his face back to normal, but only managed to make things worse. He never had a chance to talk to that girl, and she soon returned to her own sect, leaving Jin Ling completely heartbroken and ready to swear he would never love again.

A few months later, at thirteen, Jin Ling fell in love with a Yunmeng Jiang disciple. He tried to impress the older boy by showing off his diving skills. It was a common game for his uncle’s disciples, and Jin Ling had played it often enough as well. He liked to think he was good at it. His uncle had said he was good at it! And yet when he tried to dive in a very cool way to impress that one Jiang disciple, Jin Ling hit his head against something and nearly drowned. After that, he refused to come again to the Lotus Piers for ages, not until his uncle dragged him away from Jinlin Tai and forced him to go to a rather ill fated Night Hunt that changed his life.

If Jiang Cheng hadn’t taken Jin Ling to Dafan Mountain, he wouldn’t have met Mo Xuanyu. If he hadn’t met Mo Xuanyu and been rescued by him, he wouldn’t have had a debt toward him and helped him run away from Jiang Cheng in Qinghe. If he hadn’t angered his uncle like that, Jin Ling wouldn’t have needed to lay low for a while, and he wouldn’t have stumbled upon a group of juniors from various sects. And then…

Then he wouldn’t have met Ouyang Zizhen.

Meeting Ouyang Zizhen had been both a blessing and a curse. Well. Mostly a curse, actually.

Jin Ling, fourteen, with a bad ego, an even worse temper, and about to be hit in the face by more family secrets than any fourteen years old boy ought to have dealt with, just didn’t need the added horror of being in love again. It really was unfair and needlessly cruel of Ouyang Zizhen to be just that perfect, and handsome, and eloquent, and kind, and…

For a good while, Jin Ling managed to keep himself under control. He had bigger things to worry about, such as not getting killed by Xue Yang, or not getting killed by fierce corpses, or not getting killed by his uncle, and also discovering that his family was an even bigger mess than he’d ever realised, which was really saying something. And yet even with all those much more important things to keep him busy, Jin Ling couldn’t stop thinking about Ouyang Zizhen’s smile, his heartfelt tears for that ghost girl in Yi-City, the fierce way he’d fought in the Burial Mounds, how he hadn’t hesitated to stand up for Wei Wuxian… and also how he had firmly sided with the Ghost General against Jin Ling.

It really was Jin Ling’s fate to be eternally unlucky in love, he’d thought after that. And then, when he’d learned what kind of men his uncle and grandfather were, he’d figured that maybe his bad luck was just so his family would end with him, and stop making a mess of things.

And yet, in spite of being clearly cursed with the worst luck in the world, a few weeks after suddenly becoming sect leader, Jin Ling had received a letter. Not just any letter, either, but an invitation to join some other boys on a Night Hunt, among which Ouyang Zizhen who had been the one writing that invitation. Jin Ling’s broken heart had mended on the spot, delighted to find that Ouyang Zizhen had thought of him for this. Considering their last interaction hadn’t been too great, it had to mean something if he was invited, right?

It took some effort to convince the Jin elders, but in the end Jin Ling was sect leader now, and so nobody could really stop him from going wherever he pleased. He flew as fast as he could after leaving Jinlin Tai, and arrived less than a day later at the residence of the Baling Ouyang sect where Ouyang Zizhen welcomed him with that beautiful smile of his.

“You arrived a little early,” Zizhen said as he guided Jin Ling inside. The Baling Ouyang sect wasn’t very big, nor was it very rich, so the place they lived in was not much when compared to Jinlin Tai. Yet because Zizhen was there, Jin Ling found that simplicity charming, and that smallness cozy. “My father has a guest with him,” Zizhen explained, “but they’ll be leaving to their own Night Hunt soon enough. Well, they say Night Hunt… mostly Yao zongzhu and him like to head out and find a nice place to drink without my mother and auntie Yao bothering them.”

Jin Ling grimaced. Sect Leader Yao wasn’t very high on the list of people he liked to deal with. Zizhen noticed his expression of course, and laughed.

“I know, I know,” he said, leading Jin Ling inside a reception room decorated with rustic charm. Or at least, so Jin Ling chose to call it. “Jin zongzhu, just wait here and…”

“You can call me Jin Ling.”

“Wouldn’t that be disrespectful?” Zizhen asked. “I imagine people already give you a hard time for being so young, I don’t want to be too familiar and undermine your authority.”

Jin Ling’s poor heart started beating faster in his chest. Ouyang Zizhen really was too perfect, kind, courteous, clever… Even other kids in Lanling Jin were sometimes making a fuss about using Jin Ling’s title, especially those older than him, but here was Ouyang Zizhen, worrying about his image!

“I don’t care what others think,” Jin Ling said with all the haughtiness of a teenager with too much power. “You are my friend, so you can call me as you like.”

“Then maybe Jin Rulan?” Zizhen suggested. “It would be less…”

“You can call me anything you like, except that,” Jin Ling promptly corrected.

“Ah. Well, Jin Ling it is then,” Zizhen said, giving in. “Listen, I do have to tell my father that you’re here, or he’ll be cross later. He’ll probably want to drop by, but I’ll do my best to make sure it’s short. And then… it’s still early, and I don’t expect anyone else to arrive until tomorrow, so we could try to have some fun in town together?”

Jin Ling eagerly nodded at that proposition. Time alone with Zizhen sounded like the best thing ever. If he played this right…

While Zizhen left to go see his father, Jin Ling started pacing the room, trying to plan a course of action for the evening. He didn’t know what they might end up doing, since he’d never spent any time in Baling before, but surely he could hazard a few guesses. They’d have to eat, for example, and Jin Ling would of course offer to pay. Zizhen might protest, being the host, but Jin Ling would use the rank card and treat the other boy to any and all delicacies could be found in these parts. And surely there were interesting sights to see, or a scenic place perhaps? If they could go walk somewhere pretty, then Jin Ling would just have to take Zizhen’s hand and…

Or would it be better to talk about his feelings before? Jiang Cheng always said it was better to be direct in those things, so there could be no misunderstandings. Of course Jiang Cheng was terminally single, so perhaps not the best example to follow. But directness had seemed to work pretty well for Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji in that temple in Yunping, so clearly there was a merit to that idea. But how to confess? Zizhen was an eloquent person with a poetic turn of mind, whereas Jin Ling… well, Jin Ling knew where his strength laid, and it definitely wasn’t in eloquence. It ran in the family, apparently.

On both sides.

It was fine though. There was no shame in having a practical turn of mind. When they were married, Zizhen would be eloquent in his stead, and Jin Ling would do the accounting, and they’d be a perfect team. For that reason, it made sense that his declaration should be a reflection of his personality: direct and to the point. He just needed to stay calm, find the right words, politely express his intentions, and everything would be fine.

Jin Ling just needed to keep his cool.

All things considered, he should have remembered that this was not something he’d ever been good at.

So when he saw the door start to open again, when he caught a first glimpse of Zizhen’s beautiful smile, of his elegant eyes, Jin Ling panicked.

“Zizhen, I like you a lot!” he shouted. “Please allow me to court you!”

Ouyang Zizhen froze on the spot, while the door finished opening, revealing sect leader Ouyang and sect leader Yao behind the teenager, both of them staring at Jin Ling in shock.

Realising what he’d done, Jin Ling nearly fainted.

This time his reputation was ruined for ever, and he was never going to live it down.

[thegirlfulloffandoms]

Surprise im a writer Mom!

I write a lot in my spare time and thought a masterlist could come quite in handy so here are some im working on currently!

ask games:

nickname ask game

prompt lists: (credit to original owners and creators)

things fictional couples do that make me lose my mind

10 lines that could destroy us in jatp season 2

emotional prompts

Prompt list #3

WIPS + stories: (swear ill finish them oneday)

JATP

Mixed/full band

Sunset Memories - a collection of Julie and the Phantoms oneshots including various ships such as Boggie (my beloved), Willex,Juke as well as some non canon and canon based stuff and of course Sunset curve are included heavily throughout. This is good if you wanna read something short and sweet!

After Sunset- Bobby Wilson loses his 3 best friends after a deal gone wrong with the famous caleb covington,with the help of his new friends Ray and Rose,Bobby navigates the life of a new rockstar from dodgy managers (TONY DESERVES NO RIGHTS) and invasive interviews to facing the reality that maybe the dream isn’t worth all the hassle and sometimes you have to make your own way to the stars. This is one you’ll need tissues for.

I looked the Devil in the Eye- It wasn't meant to happen like this,murder was never part of the deal,especially when it meant killing one of Los Angeles' shining stars,Trevor Wilson......the problem is there's no turning back once you've looked the devil in the eye.

Alive and Kicking: 80s Sunset Curve AU- Ever since they were young,Sunset Curve had dreamed of being a famous rock bands alongside the likes of Iron Maiden,Whitesnake and Guns and Roses. Now as teenagers the band are battling between what their families want them to be and what they what to become,will they ever reach stardom as one of the most promising  rock bands of the 1980s while trying to fall for more than the music? find out in Alive and Kicking:An 80s Sunset Curve AU.

Willex

Our best days are yet Unknown - Willex Siren AU set the kingdom of Appolonia where sea creatures have been by the king banished after an accident involving Queen Molina and a sea monster. Alex is a siren who doesn’t quite fit in and Willie is a pirate on his first voyage searching for adventure,what mischief do they get into,and will the risk of all they hold dear be worth it?

Boggie

The Price of Persuasion-Socialites have their secrets,their sons shall pay the price for them. The wilsons and the Peters were once collaborators,now bitter rivals in power of the Loz Feliz district,Reggie and Bobby will soon learn that sometimes it’s better to work together than against one another in the hopes of saving the city from total collapse.

Take a star from my sky- BOGGIE BRAINROT! i mean Reggie is mathematically smart but doesn't quite have the same way with words as his classmate Robert Wilson,the round glasses wearing,satchel carrying,nose in a book boy who Reggie has been gushing over for the past two years.What happens when the smarts are doubled and the boys are thrown together by English teacher Mr Jones.Swift words to one another or to the principal? or true love?

An offer you can’t Refuse- Sunset curve were always close,like they would cuddle on the couch on stormy nights and make pancakes together on the regular but none of them expected the offer the record label had in mind for two of the bands members:fake dating for sales. this could go very wrong or very right.

Reggie and Bobby loved each other platonically.....or did they? find out in An offer you can't refuse.

Broke Boys Babysitting-Reggie had planned to spend his summer rocking out with his band at all the venues they could sneak into on the LA strip,baby sitting his brothers children was never part of that plan,neither was finding out his band had a new member through it.Bobby wasn't the biggest fan of it however baby sitting was pretty good money considering how broken his guitar was after trying to copy the bands on MTV rock out the day after he joined Whispercats. Reggie is good with kids,Bobby has no clue,what chaos could they cause together? and who will come out of it not covered in crayons and paint?

Bobby angst

After the light is Snuffed out (Oneshot) - Bobby didn't expect that he would never see his three best friends again,see their names on the board of a crowded church,see their families crushed in together in benches whispering when they saw him take a seat.This wasn't how it was meant to go,he hoped they were somewhere up in the sky,watching on him kindly.

Confessions of the dead- Bobby had to find some way to get rid of the nightmares,even if it wasn’t by his own request,sometimes it takes a certain person with a certain set of skills to solve such sorrows.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

After Sunset- Bobby Wilson loses his 3 best friends after a deal gone wrong with the famous caleb covington,with the help of his new friends Ray and Rose,Bobby navigates the life of a new rockstar from dodgy managers (TONY DESERVES NO RIGHTS) and invasive interviews to facing the reality that maybe the dream isn’t worth all the hassle and sometimes you have to make your own way to the stars. This is one you’ll need tissues for.

I’m always taking requests for oneshots so feel free to drop me a prompt and a ship in my ask box! especially if it’s boggie.

SMAU:

New york state of mind-Julie and the phantoms move to new york to record their newest album,a city that never sleeps with inspiration at every corner from the grubby subway system to the enticing times square lights where they hoped to one day see their faces,it was the perfect scenario.Musically,they are a dream but personally can they survive the madness of each other?Will they reach for the stars or come crashing like a comet into the earth’s atmosphere?

911:

The love and losses of los angeles (mixed oneshots)- a collection of oneshots about the 118 and related characters,of both an angsty and fluffy nature.

[nanasarea]

🇨‌🇦‌🇧‌🇮‌🇳

❆Prompt: your friends asked you to stay with them in a cabin for a bit of a vacation and you obviously cant say no to them

❆Genre: fluff

❆Pairing: reader x best friend!nct (dream focus)

❆Word count: 2.6k (ok longest fic I see you)

❆a/n: this was so fun to write and now I'm crying I want this also I might make a summer edition once it gets hotter bc I have IDEAS now

ALSO NOT PROOFREAD

❆Tag list: @bumblebeenct​ @socketpunch​

❆TW: toy gun (?), German, swearing (?) idk not much haha

“Get in, loser, we’re going out of our minds!” Donghyuck yelled from the bus. 

You had agreed to spend the weekend with your friends at a cabin in the woods. 

They all got some time off and wanted to spend some time throwing snow balls at each other and building snowmen, but they couldn't do that without you. 

It was Friday, the day of departure. You had just gotten a text to come outside from Jeno a few minutes ago and there you were, staring at the big bus with 23 grown men, which would otherwise be terrifying, but since it was them, it seemed fun, and only a tiny bit terrifying. 

“Haven't you already?” You yelled back as you walked towards the bus and saw Johnny step out of the bus to help you with your bags and before you could say that you got it, they were already put away on the bus. 

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, your neck slightly hurting from the angle you had to put it in, in order to look at him.

“Don't mention it. Or do, if you must.” He said dramatically and gestured for you to get on the bus before him. You stepped into the bus and Johnny soon followed. 

Immediately, you were greeted by Doyoung, who was sitting at the front with Taeyong, who asked you about how you were and if you slept well.

You quickly greeted back and told them you were great and that you couldn't sleep that well, because you were excited. Before you could ask them the same, YangYang yelled for you to come over to the back as Hyuck pulled you after him. 

You tried to greet as many people as you could before getting to the back, where Yangyang sat with Renjun, Haechan and Hendery. Hyuck quickly sat down on the far left, right next to Renjun. 

Next to Renjun was a free seat, and next to that one Yangyang, with Hendery at the far right. Renjun and Yangyang both patted at the seat and smiled at you, waiting for you to sit between them.

“I’m guessing my plan of a quiet ride was doomed from the start.” You dramatically sighed as you sat down between the two. 

“That was never an option and you know it.” Hyuck laughed, causing all 5 of you to chuckle.

You spent a good 40 minutes talking to Yangyang and Hendery as Renjun and Hyuck debated about something next to you, before you made the first stop. 

“About 10 minutes and then if you're not back on the bus, we shall leave without you, except for you, Jisung, we love you and would never leave you.” Johnny said before the group chuckled as Jisung got embarrassed.

You swear you could hear Chenle’s “of course we would, we have terrible memory.” and Jisung sighing before Renjun dragged you off the bus. 

You got off the bus and were met with Jaemin, who looked like he was about to kill someone, and Jeno, who looked he was trying his best for Jaemin not to give in. 

“Good morning.” You said “Whats so good about it?” Jaemin sighed, leaning against the bus and throwing his head back. 

You looked over at Jeno and tried to contain your laugh, to which he only mouthed “No coffee yet”. You nodded, chuckling a bit before following Shotaro, Hendery and Kun, who went to go get coffee for everyone. 

You barely got your own cup into your hands before you were pulled away from the three and into the store.

“Yn, come with me, I need it.” Hyuck said. “Need what?” You asked, following close behind. 

He didn't comment, he just dragged you to the toy section and showed you the toy gun. 

“You need a toy gun?” You asked “Yes.” He sassed “Its so pretty.” He explained “And it has fake bullets!” He added, excitedly. 

“Very nice, Hyuck. Here’s a deal, I’ll buy you the extra bullets if you promise not to use the gun on me.” You said, knowing very well that you need to make a deal beforehand.

“Deal.” He smiled, shaking your hand. 

Once you finished at the check out, you saw Jaemin pinching Jisung’s cheeks while Chenle and Jeno had their heads in their hands, they weren't surprised, but still a tad disappointed. 

“How many coffees did I miss?” You asked, causing Jeno to chuckle before returning to his disappointment. 

You stood outside of the bus for a while, talking to Chenle about his dog, well, him talking and showing you photos of Daegal while you listened and admired.

“Can I be her godparent?” You asked, placing a hand on his shoulder as Xiaojun’s head turned to you. “Godly parent?” He asked.

“God parent, but while we’re on the topic-” “DONT GET HIM STARTED, IM SITTING NEXT TO HIM AND I WANT TO SLEEP.” Kun cut you off.

“Haha, old man.” Lucas laughed before Kun looked at him and sighed. “I didn't sign up for this, I just wanted to sing.” He sighed. “You love us and you know it!” Yangyang teased. 

After a minute, you returned back to your seat and watched as Hyuck put the bullets into the gun already. 

You pulled out your phone and put in your headphones, before Renjun came up to you and took them away from you and put them in his pocket. 

“Hey!” you protested. “Wait a bit.” He said, laughing and sitting next to you.

“Now, is everyone awake?” Johnny asked, standing up once again. “Yes!” The whole bus yelled.

“What?” he asked, placing his hand behind his ear. “Ay, Ay, captain!” 

“I can't hear you!” 

“Ay, ay, captain!”

“Ohhhh, who wants the aux first?” 

A couple hands got raised, but Johnny sighed and said “If no one wants it, I guess ill be first.” and put on the first song, which was SHINee’s Lucifer, which made the whole bus jam out.

The songs kept going and your ears were in heaven, there were 23 professional singers singing some of your favourite songs, of course they were, but after a while, the atmosphere calmed down and you continued talking to Renjun.

You remember seeing most of WayV, Shotaro and Jungwoo playing a game, Taeyong play on his Nintendo while Doyoung watched and critiqued, Johnny and Taeil making Mark and Ten laugh every 3 seconds as Jaehyun and Yuta discussed something.

After some time, Jeno, Jaemin, Chenle and Jisung changed seats so they were right in front of you, which resulted in you playing some games.

An hour later, you got to your destination. You watched as Jaehyun, Jeno, Lucas, Jaemin and Johnny bring the bags and the suitcases from the bus as  Kun, Taeyong and Doyoung went to go get the keys while you and the others stood before your cabins. 

Once the suitcases were out and distributed, you waited for the keys. Most of Wayv and Shotaro was standing on the porch and discussing something, half of 127 was cuddled up while the other half took photos, alongside Sungchan.

You and the dreamies and Yangyang however, were playing with the snow. Hyuck pulled out his fake gun and jokingly started pointing it at the others. He jokingly shot us, one by one and we all played along, expect for Chenle, because he couldn't bother to move.

First, it was Jaemin, then Yangyang, Jeno, you, Jisung and at the end, Renjun, who just so happen to be near a hill so you all watched in shock as he rolled down it, getting covered in snow as Jeno and Jaemin went to go get him. 

Taeyong walked over to you guys to give you the keys before he saw Renjun, who resembled a snowman and Jeno and Jaemin helping said snowman. 

“Renjun, you okay?” He asked as Chenle, Hyuck and Yangyang laughed their asses off. Renjun just showed a thumbs up as they made their way up the hill again.

You thanked Taeyong for the keys as he and Hyuck made their way to the 127′s cabin and Yangyang to WayV’s. 

You walked to the cabin and went in, leaving your bags at the door. Jeno started the fire in the fireplace as Jisung and Chenle browsed the cabin while you and Jaemin asked Renjun if he wants cuddles to warm him up.

“Normally, I would say no, but I'm really cold, so I shall allow it.” he said before you and Jaemin looked at each other and cuddled the melted snowman. 

After cuddling for a bit, Jeno suggested deciding roommates, so once Chenle and Jisung got back, they reported on the rooms and you used a random pair up generator, since none of you had any preference.

Jeno and Chenle got the ground floor room, which was closest to the kitchen. Jaemin and Jisung got the room one level up, which had the best bathroom and you and Renjun got the top floor room, which had the best view. 

“You guys hungry?” Chenle asked, to which everyone nodded. “I’ll call Doyoung and ask if they know what they're going to eat.” Jeno said, picking up his phone. 

“I’ll take the bags to our room.” Jaemin said, taking his and Jisung’s stuff and walking up the stairs. 

“I’ll do the same.” Renjun said as Chenle and Jeno looked at each other before Chenle sighed. “I guess I shall too.”

Now, you and Jisung were watching Jeno as he called Doyoung. Apparently, there was a take out place not so far away, which did deliveries so they decided on that. 

Once the others got back, you told them and you made your way to the biggest cabin, which was 127′s. The others also came to the cabin and half an hour of everyone on their phone, the food had arrived. 

Taeyong suggested they used his new projector to watch something, so you did. You all gathered on the big couch and floor as the movie started playing on the wall while you ate.

Two movies later, Kun suggested going outside to make snowmen, while Yangyang suggested a snow ball fight, so you did both.

You started building the snowmen with Taeil and Winwin, but once you felt a snow ball hit your back, you said fuck it and joined the fight. 

You got a few throws in before you all got really cold and went back inside for some hot chocolate. 

Xiaojun, Kun, Taeyong, Doyoung, Jaemin and Jeno went to the nearby store to buy what you needed for breakfast while the others stayed in the big cabin and played a few games before Renjun got mad at Jisung’s team beating him.

“Jisung, meet me on the rooftop.” Renjun commented, making everyone laugh. 

You ended up talking to Chenle about something, but you forgot the Korean word for it, and the English word for it, you could only remember the word in German, only because you remember Yangyang teaching it to you a while back.

“Yangyang!” You yelled, grabbing Chenle’s hand and walked over to Yangyang. “Yes?” He asked.

“How do you say schwert in Korean?” You asked. “You mean sword?” Yangyang asked, which made you mentally slap yourself for not remembering. 

“What about in Korean?” Chenle asked, causing silence from the both of you until you both yelled “Mark!” and so, you, Chenle and Yangyang walked over to him.

“Yes?” He asked. “How do you say sword in Korean?” Yangyang asked, to which Mark just stared at all of you.

“Johnny!” Mark yelled as so, you, Chenle, Yangyang and Mark now walked towards Johnny asked him the same question.

“Yeah?” He asked, turning around to face you all. “How do you say sword in Korean?” Mark asked.

Johnny just looked at you all before pulling out his phone and googling google translate. “검 (Geom).” he said, showing you the translation. 

“We’re idiots, aren't we?” You asked. “Yup.” “Totally.” “The dumbest.”

“Wait, how do you say it in Chinese...” Chenle wondered before yelling “Renjun!”

It was getting late, so you said your goodbyes to the others and went back to your cabins, where Jaemin insisted on making you all dinner, so while he made dinner, you sat down on the couch and turned the tv on and searched fort the new buzzed unsolved episode on the YouTube section. 

“You started it without me?” Renjun asked, sitting right next to you. “I was searching.” You defended as Chenle sat down on the floor and waited for you to hit play.

As Jeno helped Jaemin, the rest of you watched the episode, you and Renjun on the couch, his legs lightly tossed over your lap as he leaned against the arm of the couch while Chenle sat right below you on the floor and Jisung next to him. 

“Dumbass.” Renjun commented. “You would do the same.” You said, laughing. “I would not!” he yelled. “You would.” Chenle and Jisung said in unison, making Renjun huff and continue watching in silence as you pet his head, jokingly. 

By the end of the episode, Renjun had turned so that his head was in your lap and his legs were on the arm of the chair as you played his hair and Chenle and Jisung were lazily spread out on the floor.

“Kids, dinner’s ready!” Jeno yelled, causing the two on the floor to groan and slowly get up. “You heard your dad, go.” you teased the two as Renjun got up and held his hand up to help you up.

You got to the kitchen and sat down, eating the food that Jaemin and Jeno prepared in silence.

On the ground floor, Jeno and Chenle tossed and turned, not being able to find a good position until Jeno said fuck it and got up. 

“Jaemin is probably cuddling with Jisung so they have a spare bed, so....se ya!” he said, holding up a peace sign before walking out the door. 

Once he got there, he opened the door to see Jaemin with all of his limbs wrapped around Jisung and thanked god before walking to the other bed and fell asleep.

Back on the ground floor, Chenle tried to sleep again but couldn't, so he said to himself “If Yn and Renjun are sleeping right now, I swear to god.” before getting up and walking to your room. 

He opened the door, and there you were, lying on the floor as a Taylor Swift song played. “What ya doing?” he asked.

“We’re talking about alien li-” “Nerds.” Chenle cut Renjun off before entering the room and lying next to you. 

“So, what exactly were you saying?” Chenle asked, turning his head to face you.

“How aliens could be monitoring us right now.” You said, turning your head to face him.

“But why? You two are so boring, what's there to see?” He said, making Renjun get up and tell you to hold him back, which you did. 

“You're just mad at the truth!” Chenle yelled, propping himself up as he laughed. 

Renjun started laughing too, and so did you, which ended up with all of you back on the floor, laughing, before one of you changed the subject back onto alien life and next thing you know, Jeno was at your door to tell you that its time for breakfast.

Once you finished breakfast, you ended up taking your sketchbook out, and so did Renjun. You spent the whole morning and a bit of the afternoon drawing and doodling with Renjun as Chenle and Jeno played games while Jaemin and Jisung were on their phones.

You looked up from your paper and saw them all having fun and relaxed in your chair.

“There truly is no place like home.” 

[maluminspace]

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Michael Clifford/Female Reader 

Prompt: Person A goes to in costume to a Halloween party, to find no one else is really dressed up except Person B

Word Count: 3k

Content: mostly just cute Halloween fluff, Michael in drag, there’s also a bit of side lashton, 

Trigger warnings: Alcohol, strong language, references to sexual activity including public sex (nothing too explicit)

A/N: Okay, so this is my second attempt at writing something for this collab. My first one turned out huge and not really very halloween-y so I re-assessed and this is what I came up with! I hope you guys like it <3

Please check out the masterlist and support/show some love to all these amazing writers.

*** 

When your best friend in the entire world, Luke, had first invited you to his new boyfriend’s Halloween party, you’d taken it as the perfect opportunity to blow off a little steam. Work had been busy lately and you hadn’t had much chance to relax. Furthermore, Luke had told you that Ashton (the new love of his life) had a couple of hot single friends, so you’d figured your costume should be on the sexy side.

You’d spent weeks deciding on the perfect outfit before finally settling on a black cat outfit that was just the right side of tasteful. The bodysuit was figure-hugging, showing off your curves perfectly. The elegant velvet ears and tail matched it well and you finished off the look with some cute whiskers painted on your cheeks and a red choker with a little gold bell on it.

Luke let out a low whistle when he met you outside the house he’d given you directions for. “I wish I could say the same for you!” You huffed, surveying your friend’s very lackluster costume, if you could even call it that. “Where’s the pirate costume I helped you pick out?”

A slightly guilty expression coloured Luke’s pretty face as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, I mentioned it to Ashton and he kinda hinted that he didn’t like tacky costumes so I went for this instead.” He shrugged awkwardly.

“And what exactly is this supposed to be?” You asked, gesturing to the plain white shirt and black jacket. “You just look like you’re about to go to work at the office, what the fuck, Luke?”

“Wait…” He said, his face brightening a bit as he pulled on a wig that you hadn’t even noticed he was holding. “I’m Vincent Vega!” He announced.

You rolled your eyes, fully disappointed in your best friend’s decision to side with his new squeeze over you. “I preferred the pirate costume, you’d have looked super hot.”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, buddy…” Luke giggled, “but you’re not the one I want to impress tonight.”

You clutched your chest in fake pain and shock. “And here I thought it was me that you wanted to fuck you senseless whilst a huge queue forms outside for the bathroom we claimed.”

An embarrassed blush rose in Luke’s cheeks as the memory of the specific situation you had described filled his tiny, horny brain. “We were drunk, and if he’d whispered in your ear with that sexy, gravelly voice to tell you how beautiful you looked in the new shirt he’d bought for you, you’d have begged him to drag you to the nearest bathroom, too.” He huffed as he started off up the driveway, his ridiculous wig almost falling off with the force of his dramatic head toss.

Suppressing a giggle, you followed your friend to the front door. “You’re forgetting one important detail there, Lukey.” You reminded him with a smirk. “I’m not as big of a slut as you.”

“That costume begs to differ.” Luke replied, raising an eyebrow proudly. “Calum is probably gonna pop a boner after just a glimpse of your ass in that tight suit.”

“And Calum is one of the hot ones?” You asked, remembering Luke’s declaration of Ashton’s stupidly handsome best friends. 

“Yeah, he’s the one with the cute dog and swanky apartment near the beach.” Luke explained as he opened the front door. “Michael’s probably a bit more your type, through. You have about the same mental capacity as each other.” He snorted.

Choosing to ignore the weak jibe at your own intelligence and that of the as yet unknown Michael, you focused on Luke’s lack of manners instead. “Shouldn’t we knock?” You asked. “It’s rude to just walk in to someone’s house, even if they do ‘rearrange your insides like no one has ever previously managed’.” You added, taking a great deal of joy in quoting Luke back to himself.

“Keep your fucking voice down!” Luke hissed. “I told you that in confidence!” He shook his head as though to clear it (probably from another X-rated memory) before he answered your question.

“Ashton told me we could come right in. So stop worrying about stupid stuff and get in here!” He laughed.

For the second time in the few moments since you’d met him outside, you rolled your eyes at your best friend, but this time the exasperated gesture was accompanied by a small laugh.

Your merriment soon died away when Luke led you into the main sitting room, which was already packed with people…people who were not in Halloween costumes. People who were very much giving off a sophisticated air as they sipped their wine and stood around talking to each other comfortably over the music that was playing at a much too sensible volume for a party.

In your peripheral vision you noticed Luke tear off his wig and hide in the oversized vase he was standing next to before any of the other guests saw him wearing it. Without that ridiculous little prop, Luke would probably blend right in. You, on the other hand, were going to stick out like a (very scantily clad) sore thumb.

“I thought this was meant to be a Halloween party, Luke.” You hissed, offering awkward smiles to the few people nearest to you, who were regarding you with ill-concealed smirks.

Your best friend gave an awkward laugh before ushering you towards the kitchen.

A few spiteful glances and giggles followed you as Luke pulled you through the crowd of people. 

Luckily the kitchen was pretty much deserted, with just three people huddled over by the microwave. You only recognised one of them. Having met Ashton a couple of times previous to this evening, you had no problem identifying his muscular form and the sweater/jeans combo outfit he favoured at the moment, even though you could only see the back of him. 

The second man had a very handsome profile. He was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a white shirt, with very few of the buttons done up as far as you could tell from this angle. He looked kind of athletic, with strong, muscular arms and thighs. His curly black hair was styled neatly to perfectly frame his face.

Ashton and Muscles were mostly obscuring the third person from your view. But you could tell by the tone of their voice that they were not at all happy about something. “- cannot expect me to stay here like this!” 

Unsurprisingly, Luke gravitated to the little knot of people, dragging you along with him until you finally got a glimpse of the irritated man leaning against the counter. 

Suddenly, your own embarrassment at your chosen costume vanished. In comparison to this guy, you definitely weren’t going to be the center of attention.

The third man was dressed in a long blonde wig, albeit a very cheap-looking one, styled into high pigtails. His cute, unshaven face was painted in badly-applied makeup. The tight white dress that he’d squeezed into left you with no doubt of who he was meant to be dressed as, and the realisation pulled a snort of laughter from you.

Luke failed also to suppress a giggle as he let go of your hand and instinctively curled into Ashton’s side, as though the slightly older man was some sort of magnet. “Wow, you sure as hell didn’t get the memo about the ‘adults drinking wine’ vibe either, huh?” 

The angry ‘Baby Spice’ glared at Luke with what you just knew were usually very pretty green eyes. “Don’t you start, lanky!” He huffed. “I’m already this close to ending your boyfriend.”

“Hey!” Ashton interjected, his voice calm and smooth in comparison to his friends’. “First of all, don’t talk to Luke that way or I’ll be the one ending you. Secondly, it wasn’t me that tricked you into dressing as a Spice Girl.” His last two words were accompanied with a snigger and it only made his angry friend’s face get redder.

“I swear I’ll rip your-” Baby Spice began before Muscles cut him off.

“Now, now, Michael.” Muscles smirked, “don’t you think that’s a bit too much.”

You were apparently the only one to pick up on the reference as your burst of laughter sounded much too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

For the first time Muscles’ and Baby Spices’ eyes snapped up to meet yours. Their reactions upon noticing you properly for the first time were at opposite ends of the scale. 

Muscles became instantly flirtatious, his brown eyes lighting up with a charming smile as he greeted you with a smooth. “Oh! Hi there, beautiful…”

Baby Spice on the other hand, looked as though all of his nightmares had come true. The fear and embarrassment on his face were unmistakable as you focused on him over his friend. “It looks like you’re in the market for a new best friend too, Baby Spice.” You smiled gently, hoping to ease his discomfort a little. “I’m looking for a replacement, too.”

There was something about the genuine look of surprise in his green eyes that really endeared this stranger to you. Now that you were standing closer to him, it was easier to see the handsome features that the untidy lipstick and foundation were covering. 

“Yeah…” Baby Spice laughed awkwardly, all of his anger vanishing as he tried to adopt a more casual stance. “My ex-best friend thought this would be funny.” He said, gesturing to his outfit, that up-close was much worse than you’d originally thought. His hairy chest, arms and legs protruding from the cheap costume dress made for a comical sight, but you fought back your amusement, intent on befriending this man so that both your night and his might take a turn for the better. “I’m guessing Luke pulled a similar prank on you, too?”

“Actually, he didn’t.” You explained, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, this is what passes for a Halloween costume in Luke’s tiny, dumb brain.”

Luke’s offended noise was lost beneath his replacement’s beautiful laugh as you stepped forward and offered Baby Spice your hand to shake as you told him your name.

He took it, still smiling bright enough to make his emerald eyes sparkle. “I’m Michael.” He confirmed. “And I’d be more than happy to be your new best friend.”

***

In the following couple of hours you made two amazing discoveries;

Alcohol consumption was the best cure for embarrassment.

Michael was fairly close to being your actual ideal man.

Despite the fact that he was obviously gullible, most of Michael’s other qualities were very much to your liking. In the short time that you’d known him, Michael had proven himself to be kind, funny and incredibly easy to talk to. What’s more, as the night went on and more and more of his makeup wore off, you’d found out he was even more handsome than you’d originally thought he was.

“So did you mean what you said to Calum just now?” Michael asked, suddenly looking a little nervous as he dropped his gaze to the bottle of beer in his hand. “About not being interested in him, I mean.”

A couple of times, Calum had wandered over to the corner of the kitchen that you and Michael had claimed as your own, trying to flirt with you. On each occasion, you’d made it perfectly clear that you’d formed an alliance with Michael and that sneaky ex-best friends were not permitted to flirt with you under any circumstances.

If you were reading the signals right, Michael was a little jealous of his friend. That was understandable; Calum was conventionally good looking and was as charming as they come. On a normal night, you’d have been more than a little tempted to see if his smooth moves translated into decent bedroom skills, but tonight your attention was completely focused on Michael.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “He seems nice and all, besides screwing you over on the costume thing.” You giggled. “But he’s not really my type.”

Michael looked mildly confused. “I’ve never heard a girl say that before.” He admitted. “I thought he was just everyone’s type.”

“I can recognise that he’s hot, but I like my men a little softer and my number one turn on is someone who can make me laugh.” You replied honestly. 

A light blush rose in Michael’s cheeks as he apparently realised you’d been describing him. Judging by the shyness emanating from him, people admitting they were attracted to him didn’t happen all that often. You couldn’t understand why; he was absolutely beautiful.

“C’mon, Baby Spice.” You smirked, “Lets get another drink and then you can show me some of your best dance moves.” 

“Oh, I can’t really dance?” Michael confessed, his blush deepening a bit as he headed over to the counter where numerous bottles of alcohol were laid out.

“I find that very hard to believe!” You gasped in fake shock. “I mean it’s easy, isn’t it? You just slam it to the left, shake it to the right.... Y’know, go round…” You smirked.

Michael rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna have to stop right now with those Spice Girls lyrics, kitten.” 

The pet name made your insides dance excitedly. It could have easily sounded like a cheap, tacky term of endearment from anyone else but Michael’s cute mannerisms just made it sound adorable. “Yeah, okay.” You teased, nudging his arm playfully. “I don’t want you to have to say goodbye, my friend.” 

Michael let out a reluctant laugh as he surveyed the drink options. “I can tell you were a huge fan, I’m flattered.” He said, playing along easily.

“What’s with the past tense, Bunton?” You continued. “The Spice Girls are timeless.”

Michael nodded as he continued to stare at the bottles of alcohol as though he couldn’t decide which to go for.. “I agree, I always had a bit of crush on Posh…”

“That’s basic!” You reprimanded him. 

“Rude!”  Michael scoffed. “Who’s your favourite?” He asked, raising a hopeful eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you if you hurry up and decide what you want; I’ll be sober by the time you pour a drink at this rate!” You laughed.

Michael shook his head, smirking a little. “Don’t rush me kitten, I need to weigh up all of my options.”

“Oh, come on Michael!” You scolded when he still hadn’t made a decision a moment later. “Just tell me what you want, what you really, really want so we can continue getting trashed.”

“That was your worst one yet.” Michael sighed dramatically. “I may have to disown you after that one, kitten.”

Excitement bubbled in your chest at the use of the pet name again, knowing it wasn’t just a one time slip of the tongue meant that it might stick and you couldn't put into words how much you’d like that. “Fine, just pour us both a vodka and lemonade so that you can show me those spicy dance moves.”

Michael couldn’t hold in the fond chuckle that rippled out of him as he obeyed your request. “So are you gonna answer my question about who your favourite Spice Girl is? Or do I have to guess?”

“Baby’s always been the one I crushed on the hardest.” You replied easily, deciding to forgo the guessing game.

“Yeah?” He prompted. “What attracted you to me?” He asked before panic flooded his features. “I mean her! Sorry...I wasn’t being-”

You cut Michael off with a giggle as you allowed your already tipsy brain to capitalize on the alcohol-fueled confidence you always seemed to develop after a few drinks. “I think it’s your terrible makeup skills, quick wit and those pretty green eyes that attracted me to you the most, baby.” 

You never really noticed how close you’d gotten to him until you felt the little puff of breath from his quiet “Oh…” ghosting over your own lips.

If there was ever an opportune moment to kiss him, that was it. Without any good reason to stop yourself, you tentatively wrapped your arms around his neck. “I can’t believe I’m about to kiss a Spice Girl.” You chuckled, loving the way his hands felt as they rested on your waist. 

“I hope I don’t disappoint you, kitten.” He replied, tilting his head to one side slightly so that you wouldn’t bump noses when the gap between your lips was finally closed.

It was you that took the final step, pressing a soft kiss to Michael’s lips. They felt every bit as soft as they looked and used them perfectly, kissing you back with just the right amount of enthusiasm. 

Usually, it’d take a lot more than a shy first kiss for a guy to fully win you over, but somehow you found yourself melting into Michael’s hold, prolonging the simple kiss for as long as possible. Michael didn’t seem to mind that at all, holding you closely as he parted his lips allowing you to deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue teasingly against his.

When the two of you naturally drew apart a few moments later, your head was spinning from more than just the alcohol. Michael was well and truly intoxicating in a very different way. “I’m gonna need a lot more of that to keep you on the top spot of my favourite list, Baby.” You said, trying not to let your voice sound too breathy.

“That’s definitely a promise I can keep, kitten.” Michael smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Glad to hear it!” You proclaimed. “Now, let’s drink up so that we can move on to somewhere that our awesome costumes will be more appreciated!”

Michael raised a questioning eyebrow. “Leave Ashton’s party?” he asked. “Do you have somewhere in mind?”

Nodding, you picked up your drink and took a long swig, “My favourite bar always has an awesome Halloween event.” You confirmed. “I was gonna go there but Luke wanted me to meet his boyfriend’s friends so I came here instead.” 

“Well, I’m kinda glad you did, to be honest.” Michael said, his cheeks reddening slightly. 

You pecked another kiss to his lips before taking another drink. “I am too, but it’s time for us to be the life of a new party.” 

Michael nodded in agreement as he finished his drink in one go. That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was to you, yet there you were practically drooling over a man in the worst drag outfit and makeup you’d ever seen, wiping vodka and lipstick off his incredibly plump lips with the back of his hand. He reached out with the hand that didn’t have bubblegum pink smeared across the back of it and took hold of your hand with the full confidence of the drink he’d just downed.

 “So where are we going?” He asked. “I trust you, so don’t let me down and take me somewhere lame, kitten.” 

“Oh, don’t worry. This place is amazing.” You promised, smirking as your final Spice Girls joke of the night slipped past your lips. “It’ll really spice up your life, baby.”

***

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[fleckcmscott]

Another Year

Summary: Arthur’s birthday is coming up. Y/N wants nothing more than to make it great.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 3,892

A/N: This request came from the one-of-a-kind, fabulous @sweet-nothings04​! Thank you for asking for this. I enjoyed writing it a lot! 

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! Keep them coming!

Y/N hadn't realized how much she'd missed putting together birthday celebrations. Not until the unexpected serendipity of falling in love again. Her ex-husband had preferred not to make a big deal of them, had stated he hated getting older. (Considering he'd been in his twenties, she'd found that assertion silly.) As her father had slipped away, special events and gifts had gone by the wayside to focus on routines that wouldn't throw him off kilter. She'd been invited to her sister's and brother-in-law's parties but had only stayed for the hour or two she'd hired a sitter. And while she wasn't the most attentive aunt, she always ensured her nephews and nieces at least got a card and money for a treat.

From what she'd gathered, birthdays had never been an important facet of Arthur's life. That had become obvious upon learning his was 11/21/1946 by reading documents instead of from him. When she'd discovered he'd turned thirty-five and hadn't even told her. But unlike her ex, it wasn't because he didn't want them to be. It was due to neglect, isolation, and the inability to connect. As much sympathy as she had for Penny, for her own illnesses and suffering, for what had been done to her, the wounds she'd inflicted on her son hurt Y/N’s heart. There were so many lost years. She was determined to make-up for them by spoiling him.

The diner where Patricia and she often met for lunch was halfway between their two offices. A five- or six-minute walk for them both. Y/N arrived first. She sat at the white and gold Formica counter and perused the menu. (Though she'd already decided to get her usual pastrami on wheat, garlic pickle, and coleslaw.) Patricia strolled in as the waitress jotted down Y/N's order, and told the young lady she'd have whatever Y/N was having.

They caught up quickly. The Wayne Foundation case was going to have a preliminary hearing in three weeks. Y/N couldn't have rolled her eyes harder. ("Thank god I won't be there. They'd have to drag me off the stand.") Patricia listened with interest while Y/N went on about a dispute involving break violations at Ace Chemicals. And Patricia invited her to stop by the office soon, claiming Matt had realized he'd been stupid to let her quit. ("I'm sure he misses me being a pain in his ass.")

Y/N was picking at the crust of her sandwich when she changed the subject. “I need a favor.”

Patricia arched a brow at her. “Is this going to involve me lugging boxes of files to your apartment?”

“Only if you want the workout.” Chuckling, Y/N shook her head. “Arthur’s birthday is next Saturday. You bake the best cakes. If I’m left to my own devices, he’s going to get something out of a Universal Foods’ box.”

“Mine are out of a box. I just modify the directions and make my own frosting.” Patricia used the rest of her bread to sop up her coleslaw’s dressing. “How old did you say he’s going to be? Thirty-five?”

“Thirty-six.”

Swallowing her last bite, Patricia quirked up the corner of her lips. “I still owe you for running those supplies to the office when my foot was broken. What kind does he like?”

Y/N hugged her tight across the shoulders. After a short discussion, they decided on chocolate with vanilla cream frosting - a safe choice. It would be small, since it was only for the two of them. Arthur had a job the day before. That would allow her to take it home without him seeing. She’d just have to keep him away from the fridge the rest of the evening.

They talked about the other things Y/N had in-store for him, the reservation, the gifts. She giggled, pleased at having successfully hidden it all from him so far. “You’re putting a lot of work into this,” Patricia said. “What did you do last year?”

“I didn’t know about it last year. He didn’t mention it.” Though Patricia was already aware of some of Arthur’s past, Y/N had kept the details to a minimum. She tried to think of an elaboration, one that respected his privacy but was honest. She started in on her pickle. “With Penny being sick - with everything he was going through...”

Sipping her coffee, Patricia spun her stool to face Y/N fully. “You don’t need to say anymore. I remember. It was hard for you both.”

The empathy in Patricia’s gaze prompted a smile. And reminded Y/N how grateful she was for a friend who was frank but unjudgmental. “Back then, he thought needing or wanting anything from me was a bother. But he’s getting better at letting me love him.” Y/N put a hand on her chest. “And now he’ll never need to mention it. It’s locked in here for good.”

~~~~~

Yesterday had left Arthur in a funk. One that showed signs of adhering to his brain the way flies had stuck to the tape he’d had to hang from the ceiling of his old apartment every spring. He’d spent close to twelve hours dancing and waving a “Store Closing! Everything 50-70% off!” placard in front of Dave’s Pleasure Emporium in Gotham Square. (The city must really be fucked if its denizens’ finances were shitty enough that adult shops were shutting down.) It had been his least favorite gig in months. But the slow season was coming on, and the pay had been decent.

The dull ache in his lower spine, radiating to his hip, had made it harder than usual to sleep. And soreness was seeping from familiar spots to sinews he’d forgotten were there. Even the tips of his toes hurt. Two more ibuprofen tablets and acetaminophen went down easily. Carefully, not wanting to rouse her, he removed Y/N’s hand from his stomach, wincing as he shifted onto his left side to alleviate the pressure on his right.

Thirty-five was too old for this. While he loved performing for children, he should have made it as a comic by now. And he should have finished school. He’d be able to do more than be on his feet all day, then. Have more options. Opportunities...

Or maybe he simply shouldn’t have taken that particular job.

The ability to stop catastrophizing, adjust his way of thinking, was new. And rare. He made a mental note to write today’s accomplishment in his journal and share it at his next appointment. The therapist would be impressed with him. Dozing, he thought his funk might abate after all.

It could have been five or fifty minutes later when he felt the comforter being dragged down. Heard the zip of the shades being rolled up. But he was in that snug state between wakefulness and slumber and refused to react. Then there was a pinch on his chin, a light weight on his scalp. “What are you doing?” he mumbled gravelly.

“It’s someone’s special day today,” Y/N said.

Oh. That’s right. He was thirty-six now.

Squinting in the bright sunlight filtering through their sheer curtains, he propped himself on his forearm. She was half-reclined next to him, draped in a short, black nightdress. The one she found a tad tawdry but he liked. He rubbed his eyes, his forehead. Thin cardboard stopped him when he reached his hair. His fingers followed it, found it tapered into a point.

A party hat. She’d gotten him a party hat. He couldn’t hold back his snort.

In his line of work, birthdays were for kids. He’d stopped caring about his own as a teenager. Penny had seemingly been glad he was around. But she never remembered. Hell, he’d had to remind her of her own. But the last acknowledgment of it, the last one before meeting Y/N, had been by a teacher. He’d gotten an extra five minutes of recess and escaped punishment for inappropriate laughter for the day.

This was his first birthday with a person who saw and loved him. Understood who he was. Knew he was more than some image projected onto him. A person who appeared thrilled he existed and to be in his life. As a husband. Every sit-com and film he’d watched had clued him in: wives deemed them important. They hid gifts, cooked special meals, sneaked around arranging parties. There hadn’t been any sneaking on Y/N’s part, none that he could detect. He wondered what she could have planned.

The kneading of her thumb in the hollow of his hip, briefs slung too low as usual, gave him a good idea of her plan for this morning. The entangling of their legs confirmed it. “I got donuts. Coffee’s ready.”

“You, um-“ He cleared his throat, closed his eyes at the brush of her thigh against his length. Which was getting harder with each touch of her lips to the crook of his neck. “You didn’t make breakfast?”

“No.” Her chuckle was throaty, full of desire. “I wasn’t going to torture you with burnt eggs.” She was pulling at his biceps, trying to get him to settle over her. “Let’s work up your appetite, Mr. Fleck.”

But he flinched and halted her movements. The painkillers hadn't kicked in yet. His muscles burned. "We'll get to it later," he promised between languid, lingering kisses. The kind that made him feel safe. Loved. Famished for her. She guided him onto his stomach, stroked him affectionately. Breaths mingling, they chatted lazily until they both cooled off.

Once his stomach started rumbling, Y/N insisted they get up, despite his protestations that he wasn't hungry. That staying under the covers with her for hours would be fun. That they could eat in bed, crumbs be damned. His back would get worse if he continued laying like that, she told him. He needed to stretch and move. Although he grumbled, his experiences with injuries, whether from overwork, assholes, or sleeping on a couch most of his life, had taught him she was right.

Following a cigarette on the fire escape, he went to the kitchen, grabbed a mug, and did a double-take at the round table in the dining nook. He approached it in disbelief. He tensed as he ran his hand along the rectangular gifts and their shiny red paper. Squeezed the puffy, tan winter coat. Fingered the silver ribbon tied to the chair, dangling from an aluminum helium balloon. The lump in his throat forced a short laugh. But he didn't cover his mouth, not having to hide from her. He shook his head, wiping at the sudden wetness in his eyes. "All this is for me?" He did his best to sound normal.

"No. They're for my other husband, Carnival." She came behind him, hugged him around his torso and splayed her fingers on his chest. "You may have met him. Has a penchant for making balloon animals? Wears pants with the cutest patch on his bottom?" He grasped her forearm, held her tight to him as his shoulders shook with mirth.

It wasn't yet eight o'clock. And the day was already shaping up to be one of his favorites.

~~~~~

At the vanity on Arthur's side of the bed, Y/N was attempting to create the perfect oval eye with brown liner. The wide smile creeping onto her face wasn't making it easy. But it couldn't be helped. Everything had gone wonderfully so far. Had more than met her expectations. She hoped his had been met, too.

She'd been badgering him to get a winter coat since last Christmas. (His teeth had chattered almost the entire time they'd stood outside to watch Gotham's Christmas parade. The hot chocolate from a vendor hadn't done much good. A long bath had been necessary to finally warm him up.) The one she'd picked out fit him well, and he'd seemed to like it, hanging it by the door next to his tan jacket. And she'd known he was attached to his trusty, foil razor. But it was over fifteen years old, taped together, and on its way out. The new one had a rechargeable battery. He wouldn't be tethered to the outlet over the sink if he wanted to move around a bit.

The twitch of his nostrils, his hitched breath as he'd whispered, "Thank you," had compelled her to kneel next to his chair. The poignancy of his reaction had affected her keenly. Hollowed out her core and filled it with compassion and love. He'd frowned and wiped his nose with the back of his knuckles. "Sorry," he'd scoffed, glistening eyes darting to hers. "I don't mean to be weird."

"You're not, Arthur." She'd gently removed his black and red polka-dotted party hat, set it on the table. "You're being you."

After a quick lunch, they'd leisurely strolled arm-in-arm through the neighborhood, including a visit to the nearby park. Arthur had wanted to stop into the used record shop three or four blocks away. She'd caressed up and down his back, observing his content visage as he flipped through the LPs. It was lovely to see him treat himself to a couple without hesitating to worry about the cost for too long. At home, he'd settled on the floor by the record player and put them on. He must have been feeling better, because he'd kept his earlier promise: they'd made love on the carpet. Unhurried, sweet, and giggling like idiots.

The opening of the bathroom door broke her out of her reverie. She started blotting her darker-than-usual red lipstick with a tissue. "It was nice of Patricia to get me aftershave," he said.

She smoothed the lines of her champagne color, mid-length dress, adjusted its petal sleeves, then twisted around just as he entered the bedroom. Her movements halted. Would his handsomeness, his beauty, ever fail to stun her? Gaze roaming his slender form, she stared at him. He'd only worn his black and brown oxfords seldomly, saving them for special occasions. The wrinkled white socks didn't match his black pants, but they paired well with him.

It was the teal button-up, patterned with white circles of various opacities and sizes, that caused her to need a few seconds to process his remark. It'd hung in the corner of his old living room; she'd eyed it in their closet since he'd moved in. It was such a contrast to his usual conservative clothing. Quite unlike him, she'd assumed. But seeing him standing there in it, the way it complimented his lithe figure and brought out the light green of his irises, made him look a little less withdrawn, she realized she'd been mistaken.

"She thought it'd suit your new shaver." He gave a gentle hum in response, bashful smile appearing. Such gestures were unfamiliar to him. Eventually, they'd become such an integral part of his life he'd grow tired of them. Y/N would make sure of that. The idea prompted a grin and she stepped around the bed to approach him. "You look great. Are you ready?"

“Yeah.” The crook of his mouth, the furrow of his forehead alerted her to his nervousness. He rubbed the back of his neck, flitted his look to hers. “It sounds fancy.”

She kissed him soundly and he eased into her embrace. “You don’t have to impress me,” she said. “You already did that. Use whichever fork you want.”

The restaurant was in Gotham’s Little Italy district, only a block or two from Chinatown. Y/N had never been to Bamonte’s but her colleagues had given it good reviews. (One had said he and his wife went there every anniversary.) Arthur gaped when they went inside. She watched him survey the lavish, red curtains decorating the walls; the dim lanterns suspended from the ceiling; the faux-marble floor. Huffing, he turned to her, concern clear on his face. She grasped his elbow. “It’s all right. You belong here as much as anyone else.”

The maitre’d led them to a secluded table, behind its own drawn back drapes in the rear corner of the smoking section. Arthur traced the edges of the three lit, tulip-shaped votive holders. Caressed the cream color tablecloth as he sat in the fabric covered chair. An anxious chuckle left him and he smoothed his palm over his thigh. “I hope I don’t spill anything.”

Y/N assisted Arthur with the menu, explaining some of the more exotic-to-him dishes. He was interested in the antipasto, which wasn’t unexpected, since he always kept a jar of olives in the fridge. The gnocchi with tomatoes, spinach, fresh basil, and mozzarella was what he thought sounded best. She chose an old favorite, chicken in a mushroom and white wine sauce and a Caesar salad on the side. Arthur picked the least expensive Moscato on the wine list. When the bottle was opened and left on the table, he blinked at it, then shrugged and filled their glasses.

After a couple of sips, he crossed his legs and puffed on his cigarette. “I wrote a new joke. Well, I really just changed an old one.” He reached across the table to graze across the back of her hand. “Why didn’t the old man like having insomnia?”

Her eyelids fluttered, his gossamer touch setting her aflame. She ran her toes along his calf, his resulting twitch causing her to giggle in delight. “He wanted to sleep with his wife?”

Dark brows shot up in surprise, his eyes lighting up. Their fingers laced together. “How did you know?”

Leaning forward, she traced his crow's feet, prominent due to his beaming smile. Then her touch drifted to his jawline. “It was the first joke you ever told me," she murmured. "How could I forget?” Clutching her hand, he pressed a kiss to her wrist. He held her to his lips, hard enough to feel his teeth. And he grew quiet. “What is it?” she asked after a minute.

His eyelids shut. She could feel his pulse quicken together with hers. “I- I wanna sleep with you forever,” he breathed.

Out of anyone else’s mouth, she would have taken that to mean sex. From him, however, she knew it meant mountains more. Adoration welling in her chest, her fingertips weaved into his loose, chestnut curls. “You will.”

~~~~~

Once, in high school, Arthur had gotten a hold of some grass. It was supposed to induce giddiness and euphoria, make a person relax. God knows he could have used it back then; Penny had started declining and he’d had to learn to run a household. Plus, he’d thought at the time, it’d make him one of the guys. All the cool kids were doing it. Maybe he’d be able to connect with one and learn how to be popular. But all it had done was make him nauseous and paranoid. There hadn’t been one iota of the “high” he’d imagined. He’d thrown it out and never tried it again.

Now he wondered: was it possible to be high on a person? To be drunk on their presence? To feel their essence down to the cell? Necking on the sofa with Y/N, their coffee forgotten on the coffee table, he figured it must be. Enraptured, he wanted to capture her ragged breaths, take her into his lungs, make her a perpetual part of his being. Perhaps he’d stay happy naturally, then, like everyone else. Even if that didn’t work, she’d always be close.

Giggling, she pushed him off her and headed towards the kitchen. “Wait here. No peeking.”

Laughing softly, Arthur pushed his hair out of his face. She’d already gotten him gifts. Let him make love to her. Taken him to an eatery where he was totally out of place and managed to make it comfortable. What else could she possibly do? Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. He eagerly followed at the call of his name.

The loveliest cake he’d ever seen was on the counter. Dark chocolate shavings embellished its round border. And it was the perfect size for the two of them. Y/N was rushing to light a mass of candles on it. “Quick, make a wish before wax drips onto the frosting.”

He mused for a moment. He no longer needed to pine for daydreams and delusions of companionship - he had Y/N. In spite of the icons his mother had had in every room of their apartment, he’d long ago stopped praying to what he suspected was nothing for his conditions and illnesses to go away. Then it occurred to him. Bending to blow out the candles, he wished for his innate comedic gifts to be recognized. To be validated as the stand-up he knew he was. And to provide for Y/N. To be what she needed. To make her happy.

Although he was grateful for Patricia’s thoughtfulness, and he knew Y/N’s baking wasn’t better than his own, part of him had wanted her to be the one who made the cake. But he tried to push that aside and appreciate it regardless. The slice she gave him was far too generous. He ate it all, anyway, because it was delicious. The sponge was fluffy. And the chocolate could actually be detected, instead of a vague, sugary flavor. The frosting tasted finer than that on the grocery store bakery cupcakes he’d sampled in the past.

As he was rinsing off the cutlery, Y/N saddled up beside him and held out a bright purple envelope, inscribed with “Happy Birthday!” in her pretty longhand. He leaned his hip against the counter as he grasped it, intentionally brushing his hand against hers. Gingerly, he lifted the flap and pulled out the card.

The cardstock was a vibrant gold and white. Two mugs, one green and labeled, “Yours,” one pink and labeled, “Mine” sat on sketched coasters. The shiny purple letters underneath proclaimed, “You get me. I get you.” Pressing his thin lips together, he opened it. And sighed when he read the rest: “Hope you know how happy that makes me.”

One of his wishes had already come true.

The elation coursing through his veins made him shudder. He nearly missed the stiff papers that fell from the envelope. Y/N retrieved them and gently placed them in his palm. A wide smile spread across his cheeks as he read aloud. “‘Gotham Pops presents A Night with Gershwin?’” He double-checked the date. “These are for New Year’s Eve.”

She nodded. “I snagged them as soon as they went on sale. They’re orchestra seats.” Then she squeezed him flush to her side, bumped her nose to his. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you sing to yourself in the tub.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, eyes tracing the diamond pattern of the grey, linoleum floor. “I thought I was quieter.”

“I’m glad you weren’t.” Enthusiastically, her lips pulled at his before she grinned up at him. “Did you have a happy birthday? Was it worth getting older?”

Arthur’s answer came without delay. “Yes.” There wasn’t a way to explain what it meant to him, to explain that she helped him feel good to be alive. How full his heart was. That she patched cracks in his soul he hadn’t known existed. He longed to do the same for her. He cupped her jaw on either side, guiding her to his mouth and rasping, “I don’t mind getting older with you.”

~~~~~

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Hi I absolutely adore your writing, please never stop!! Also for prompts if you ever need some ideas; - Katsune Jaskier that follows Geralt like a shadow, which he's aware of but doesn't know who/what it is and it drives him mad until he finally sets a trap to catch him and lo and behold, it's a cute famous bard - THE HANAHAKI DISEASE AU BUT NOT FATAL - just Geralt secretly loving Jaskier's voice and pining for his singing - Feral Antisocial Geralt who's only Soft with Jaskier is my shitok

 AN: I'm so sorry this took so long! The world went to shit and my brain went along with it, but I loved your prompt so much I needed to write it, even so late >.

   It starts small. Geralt thinks it starts with the djinn but it really began much earlier, years earlier when Jaskier burrows past his defenses in a way that he barely even realizes and plants the seed that will turn Geralt’s life upside down. But it does start with the djinn, in a way. 

    The tickle in his throat had been growing for months, in hindsight its progress was likely inhibited by the twisted physiology of witchers, and Geralt ignores it in favor of working towards the next job, the next town, the next good night’s sleep. Until it turns to an itch that he can feel with every breath, keeping him tossing and turning on the spring earth like a dying beetle. He doesn’t sleep easy in the first place, even with swords in reach and Roach nearby, but the faint pressure in the back of his throat leaves him grasping for even the thinnest veil of peace every night. 

    Naturally, his only solution to this dilemma is to find a djinn. The net’s wet cords are unwieldy until he’s thrown it over three dozen times, more beyond that when he loses count until Jaskier’s voice cuts into his frustrated groans. He’d never admit that it might have been the bard’s lucky presence that wins him the amphora after so many hours of fruitless searching but even that thought is quickly tossed away when he sees what the djinn has wrought on Jaskier. 

    The long rides on his search for help are time enough for him to listen to the ragged breaths Jaskier fights to take and Geralt swears under his own at the foolishness his sleep-deprived brain had concocted as a solution. He’d bear the itch in his throat for the rest of his life if it meant Jaskier’s voice wasn’t torn to shreds between wheezes like this. His traitorous mind wonders if the solution to his problem of sleeplessness might have even happened if he’d had Jaskier’s strumming in the evenings to drift off to, that he’d gotten used to and only found he missed when the bard had left for the Countess de Stael. But it doesn’t matter, the hands weakly gripping his waist are what he should be focusing on. 

    He keeps a hand on Jaskier every second until he stands before the mage, the back of his throat scratched with how many times he’s cleared it in the past few hours and the exhaustion bleeds into his voice just slightly as he hears that haunting wheeze whistle from Jaskier’s lips again. 

    “Just a… friend?” Yennefer arches a brow with enough refined subtlety that he barely understands. 

    “Companion.” 

    “Ah.” The unimpressed look on her face doesn’t stand in the way of her offering help however, for a price Geralt would gladly pay many times over. The guilt that gnaws at him seems to crawl up out of his stomach and nestle in his lungs, his usually slow exhalations paced fast enough to almost be a normal human’s. The change would be disquieting if he wasn’t more worried about someone else’s chest rising and falling faster, and easier. 

    He’s standing over Jaskier, watching his eyelids flicker and trying to explain away why he’d rushed through a bath with a mage like Yennefer when she broaches the subject again. 

    “You care so much about what he’d die thinking, what did you say?” 

    Geralt considers not telling her but he could imagine what Jaskier would say. Brave enough to fight monsters as your day job but not enough to admit you cut me with a sharp quip? It would sound far better in Jaskier’s voice; Geralt’s mind had never been good at filling in Jaskier’s side of conversations unlike Jaskier himself was for Geralt’s. And maybe it was the sleepless nights that had brought back his habit of substitution, of trying to fill the hole in the everyday that had once been bursting at the seams. 

    “I insulted his singing.” 

    “He must be the bard then. The ‘humble bard’, no less. Well, I’m sure he’s heard worse.” Yennefer leaned against the post at the corner of the bed, arms wrapped around the wood as she pressed her face to the whorls carved into it. 

    “He shouldn’t—” He can’t finish the words, a cough disrupts his thoughts and forces him to focus on what had grown in the back of his throat. Swallowing hard, he feels something slip down from the force of it, a tightness as that of food eaten too fast. 

    “I’ve healed his ills, do I have to add yours to the bill?” 

    “No. This is nothing.” He braces himself on the post she’d abandoned, seeing the marking drawn on the floor and his mind scrabbles for something other than Jaskier to revolve around. “You’re planning to use him as bait.”

    “He’ll get his last wish, fully healed. What happens after is a matter of circumstance,” Yennefer says, shrugging. 

    “It’ll make everything worse, trying to cage…” Geralt stops, this time from the cloying scent that’s flooded his nose. 

    “That was faster than I’d have thought. You, witcher, are distracted.” She sways towards him as his senses begin to cloud and her glance towards the bed has him jerking to intercept. “Hush. He’s got all of your attention already, I’m just borrowing you for a bit.” 

    The world goes dark and Jaskier returns. But it doesn’t stop Geralt from marching back into the building to save her in the end. She had saved Jaskier, and as much as he’ll deny any conclusions one could jump to about how much he cares, or as Jaskier creatively put “give a monkey’s about”, him, that act deserves some kind of repayment. 

    ———

    Once it starts, it takes far longer for it to end, however. His and Jaskier’s path weave together in the years after that and he sees the bard’s fame continue to grow and his ballads about him growing wilder, if still mostly true, while for him the only change is the tickle that grows into a cough with every sunny step Jaskier’s takes away from him when he leaves even as he tries to hide it. 

    By the time he meets Triss, he’s found out what he swallowed that night. He leaves them strewn around his campsites, when he can afford to simply hack them up and discard them, and keeps his mouth shut otherwise, breathing only thinly until he can weed out the fresh patch that grows over the course of the day. The only reprieve he ever found was in the slip of meditation when his senses dull just slightly and Jaskier’s wandering fingers pluck out tremulous notes of his latest creation. But that only lasts so long. 

    Triss frowns as soon as she sees what Geralt holds in his palm.

    “If you weren’t a witcher, you might have died from this already,” she mutters, spinning the stem between her fingers. 

    “It won’t be what kills me directly. One good slash from a bruxa while I’m coughing these up and I’ll be the next piece of roadkill in the night.” 

    “I was talking about the poisoning. Buttercups are toxic, but at the rate your—You say you’re coughing them up so much that you swallow them instead, that might just be making it worse.” 

    “What am I supposed to do about it? What cursed me? Who? If I could solve this, I would have done it already. That’s why I’m asking for your help.”

    “This isn’t something I can heal.” 

    “Then who?”

    “You. Just like how symptoms of a sickness get worse the more you ignore them, so too with this. Except this time, your body isn’t what’s being repressed but rather your emotions.” 

    “That’s what the mutations did. Too late to undo that,” he growled, the soreness in his throat mounting in the now-familiar foretelling of a fit. He doubled over, coughing a shower of drifting yellow petals onto the frosted earth. Buttercups in the dead of winter, like a trail of breadcrumbs leading back to him, giving him away even more thoroughly than Jaskier’s singing usually did. 

    Triss continued once she saw he’d stopped. “This is something you’re deciding to do. Or more likely, something you’re deciding not to do.” 

    “There’s plenty I don’t do. Fight every human who sneers my way or cavort in the streets, for a start.” 

    “But something you want to, but decide not to. That’s your mystery to solve. Not mine.” She smiled. “Unless you really do have a fancy for dancing a jig in the main square, I’d surely watch that.”

    He leaves her disgruntled but with an answer to his problem, even one he doesn’t like. While he racks his mind for what the solution is, the days start to blend together until he finds himself growing used to his condition. The flowers grow rampantly, but clearing his throat helps to at least keep the stems from clogging his breath for the hour it takes for them to grow back. It serves the same purpose as his usual monosyllabic sides in conversations about jobs, with the side effect of earning more than a fair share of stupefied, and disturbed, looks as the petals slip from his lips whenever he does open his mouth. 

    The only one who seems to ask him about it however, is Jaskier. He stumbles into Geralt’s campsite one dusk with a few of the flowers tucked behind his ear. 

    “I hear you’ve been spreading rumors without me! What’s this about the ‘Spring Witcher’? It’s like something from a fairytale, except instead of diamonds you get the burden of flowers dropping from your mouth. Shame it’s only the one kind. Pretty color though!”

    Geralt doesn’t say what he can feel lying on his tongue, that with Jaskier’s sky-blue doublet, the same one from when he’d wished the bard silent and come closer to killing him than anything else, goes so well with the yellow in his hair. Instead, he coughs, leaving a dusting of buttercups on Roach’s back just as he’d finished brushing her down. 

    “The tales don’t tell of that. Is it a curse? Can you still talk? Is it painful?” 

    By the time Geralt clears his tongue of any more bitter stems, Jaskier’s stroking Roach’s nose and looking at him with concern. It takes a second for him to speak, caught in the relief of the weight of those eyes on him, something he hadn’t realized he’d missed. 

    “What are you doing here?” 

    “That answers one of my questions at least,” Jaskier sighs, but acquiesces, “I’m… wandering, for now. I don’t know, I happened to find you. Maybe it was destiny, although I know you don’t like that word. Maybe I can stick around for a bit before I go, help you get rid of those weeds.”

    “You a healer now?” 

    “No, but I’ve taken care of plenty of other things for you.” Jaskier takes hold of Geralt’s wrist, raising it until the scar running to his elbow is shining white in the firelight. “Wouldn’t look as nice if I hadn’t taken that embroidery class all those years ago, you know. And the rash from the—”

    “Yes, I remember the rash, Jaskier,” Geralt cuts in before he can continue down that vein any further. The tightness in his lungs eases just slightly in the moment, and he finds he doesn’t want it to be temporary. “Stay.”

    “Where? Here? I mean I don’t mind holding your hand, Geralt, but I’m also not a dog.” 

    “Just… It helps.” It feels like he’s pulling the words out, slowly and methodically uprooting them from inside and shaking the dirt from them before offering them up. 

    “Does it really?” Jaskier’s eyes widen, his hand tightening slightly on Geralt’s skin and he relishes the warmth of those nimble fingers, but it feels like he still hasn’t finished clearing out the field. 

    “And it’s been too quiet. Roach is good company but…” 

    “She’s not the best conversationist? I’ve noticed that too. She’s all eye-rolls and huffing, with good reason but there’s only so much of that deadpan you can take.” Jaskier smiles, still holding onto his wrist as he talks, stopping only to pat Roach’s flank between sentences. “I’ve missed you too, Geralt. I’ve never met anyone who can brood so expressively. And insult me so bad I almost die.” 

    “Jaskier, I’m—”

    “I kid. I can respect a good repartee as well as any jester. Besides, I flatter myself to think you may have learned such sharp wit from me.” 

    “I somehow doubt it.”

    “See? That was good, but I bet if you spend another decade or so with me, you’ll be killing monsters with just your words.” Focusing back down on the scar that had been the first point to his argument, Jaskier runs the pad of his thumb over the beginning of the raised skin, turning thoughtful. The expression scares Geralt, his mind always returning to the conversation before the djinn, to all the points where he could have stopped what he was doing and spared Jaskier the ensuing pain. To all the hurts that Jaskier bared to him, without him even realizing it. 

    “By then, will you still be using ‘old friend’?” he asks, realizing his words are coming easier, as is his breathing. The dull ache that had sat inside his chest for almost a year had eased, the taste of pollen against his teeth waning with every clear breath. 

    “Maybe something different. I have a few ideas, but I’ll run them by you. See how you react.” He almost doesn’t see Jaskier’s wink, with the darkening sky and the thumb that has traveled from his wrist to his palm, but he catches it. By then, the only buttercups left are those in Jaskier’s hair and even those are knocked loose by his next gesture. 

I’m open for prompts

[dreamcatcherfication]

Welcome to the Murder House - Amateur Detectives

Bet you guys weren’t expecting this, huh? Well I still wanted to get a daily fic out and this is the only thing I have written that’s good enough to go out right now. I’m really trying to get back on schedule, and I don’t want to rapid fire these parts out, so hopefully I’ll be getting back to requests soon. But for now, please enjoy part two of Murder House! It’s a relatively short chapter, but things kick off real quickly.  I’m getting you guys hooked on the plot before I start implementing a posting schedule. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, it’s 2 AM and my brain is the equivalent of a potato.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

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Trigger Warnings: Talk of death, typical high school swearing/insults, dead bodies

Part 1

“Holy shit, Christina Denmark?” Anne gasped.

Frantically nodding Cathy tried to regain her breath. “The freshmen were having an assembly and one of the cops was there. She left her radio, so Mr. Wolsey asked me to take it back to the station. I was tuning in to some of the police chatter, and they started talking about Christina and -” her voice cut off. Cathy’s hands were shaking as her breathing fluctuated.

All four of the girls knew Christina Denmark, whether it was personally or socially. She had almost dated Henry after he and Jane had broken up, but she managed to escape that terrifying reality. She and Anna had been friends at one point, but that was only through the strands of popularity. “Christina,” Anna started, but she couldn’t get the words out.

“Is this for real?” Kit asked, her previous anger at Anne forgotten.

Nodding, Cathy pulled out the police radio from her bag. “I have the radio right here.”

“Well you know what we have to do,” Anne said seriously. Her gaze was set directly on the radio.

“We investigate,” Cathy finished for her.

Neither Kit nor Anna seemed on board with the idea. “Investigate a possible murder? Guys, we aren’t Scooby Doo characters,” Anna chuckled nervously. She didn’t like how serious Anne and Cathy seemed. With Anne’s thirst for adventure mixed with Cathy’s need for answers, things could only end badly. 

“Yes, but we know Christina. The police aren’t going to tell anyone about this until things get serious,” Cathy explained. “This is our only chance to help find her.”

Shuffling her feet, Kit was unconvinced. “But we’re high school kids. If she’s missing, it could be kidnappers, murderers, any kind of criminal. Do we really want to get involved in that?”

“But we can help! We know Christina better than those cops. Besides, we are high school kids,” Anne spoke with wonder dripping from her voice. “That means we know how Christina acts. If she ran away, we’ll be able to trace her better than anyone else.”

Anna and Kit were still hesitant to agree. It was Cathy who won Anna over. “If there’s anything we can do to figure this out, it’s the right thing to do. We can take action that the police won’t. Shouldn’t we be obligated to do what we can?”

Something inside of Anna switched, and suddenly she was agreeing with Cathy and Anne. “Alright, let’s do it.”

Kit looked at her in surprise. “Anna! You’re agreeing to help them meddle in a missing persons case, possibly a murder investigation? You realize how illegal that is.”

“Kit,” Anne put her hand on her cousin’s shoulder, all ill will forgotten. “Do you want to see Christina dead?”

“No…”

“We can help find her! You won’t get hurt, and you’ll be helping someone. Isn’t that the right thing to do?” Anne was firm on her decision to help find Christina, and she would do anything to convince Kit to come with them.

Biting her lip, Kit relented. “Okay. But if things get bad…”

“We’ll back out,” Anna promised. “All of us.” She glanced at Cathy and Anne who reluctantly agreed to Anna’s terms. “Well then. Cathy? Where do we start?”

Kit did not like this one bit. She expected to be going to Christina’s house and interviewing her family, not trekking through the middle of the woods. But of course Cathy’s police scanner told them that the police suspected her body to be hidden in the woods, so that’s where they went. Anne seemed far too excited for someone searching for a body, but none of the girls tried to damper her mood. “This is like a real life episode of Luther, isn’t it,” Anne commented, hopping over a fallen tree.

“I guess. If you ignore the fact that he’s a detective and we’re a bunch of high schoolers,” Anna cheekily replied. 

Rolling her eyes, Anne stuck out her tongue at Anna. “Okay, I get it, we aren’t qualified to be searching for Christina. But guess what?”

“What?” Cathy murmured, unaware that Anne was being rhetorical.

“We’re doing it anyway,” Anne replied, snapping her fingers. “So let’s get a move on.” The four of them continued their walk, silence settling around them.

“Everyone quiet,” Cathy whispered, freezing in place. The others followed suit, their anxiety levels spiking at Cathy’s sudden apprehensiveness. “Do you hear that?” she whispered again.

Attentively, the four girls tuned into the sounds of the woods around them. Cathy was right, there was a strange sound. It sounded almost like… footsteps. Immediately crouching down, the girls shared terrified looks. Whoever they were listening to could very well be Christina’s kidnappers/killers. As the noise got louder, Anne picked up a large branch and held it like a bat. The footsteps got closer and closer until the girls were holding their breaths in anticipation.

“Ah!” Anne screamed, jumping out and holding her branch at the ready.

“AH!” Came the terrified voices of Catherine de Aragon and Jane Seymour as they jumped back in fear. The six girls were all at varying levels of stress as they recovered from the scare. “What the hell was that Boleyn?” Catherine demanded angrily.

“So you’re Christina’s killers!” Anne accused.

The girls in question stared at her in confusion. “What?” Jane asked incredulously. “Christina’s killers - why would we kill Christina? Why would you think Christina’s dead?”

Cathy held up her radio. “Police scanner,” she answered.

“Why are you out in the woods?” Anne stepped closer, her eyes narrowed. “Come to dispose of the body?”

“What are you even talking about?” Catherine threw her arms up in exasperation. 

Anna stepped forward, less suspicious than Anne but still confused. “The police are saying that Christina Denmark is missing, and they think she’s dead.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, that’s terrible.”

“We know,” Cathy agreed. “They suspect that the killer would’ve dropped her body in these woods. If she’s dead.”

“And you think we’re the killers?” Catherine put a hand on her hip.

“No!” Kit jumped in. “We were just scared, that’s all.”

Still wary, Anne lowered her branch. “You haven’t told us why you’re out here yet.”

“We volunteer at a local science research facility,” Jane started.

Kit’s eyes widened. “That’s so cool.”

“It really is Kat,” Catherine smiled at her. Anne shot a scathing glare at Catherine and moved subtly in between the two seniors and her cousin.

“The scientists asked us to get samples from the river further back that way,” Jane pointed behind them. “That’s why we’re here.” Curious, Kit started to make her way around the others and move towards where Jane had pointed.

While most of the girls seemed satisfied with the answer, Anne refused to let it go. “I don’t trust you two.”

“Then don’t trust us Anne,” Catherine sighed.

Cathy and Anna moved next to each other and watched the standoff. “Do you think Anne’s going to rage at them?” Cathy glanced at Anna before turning her attention back to the three girls.

Anna shook her head. “No, Anne’s more controlled than we give her credit for.”

“You say that after she blew up twice in two days.”

“True,” Anna shrugged. “But she’s far more interested in finding Christina than starting an argument with these two.”

A scream broke them away from their conversation. All five girls whipped their heads around, searching for Kit, the one who screamed. Rushing through the trees, they came upon Kit’s frozen form. Anna was the first one at her side. “Kit what’s -” she didn’t get to finish her sentence.

Because there at Kit’s feet was the dead body of Christina Denmark.

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

Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thenicestnonbinary @its-totes-gods-will @thatbolxyngirl @thenameisnoone @sixqueendom @frogs-in-clogs @timetoriseabove @obliviousasheck

[ragewerthers]

Just Resting My Eyes

Summary:  When Ignis starts to run himself a little ragged, his friends decide to step in and make sure he looks after himself. And they will turn King and Country against him if they have to!

A/n: Hello there! This is another wonderful F3S prompto from my friend @bgn846​ that she gave me all the way back in April!!! I can't believe how long it's taken me to write it, but I have been wanting to get this all polished up and ready for MONTHS!

The prompt was: "Stolen naps and getting discovered. Falling asleep in places like the office, the backseat of the car, the tub, the kitchen table. Etc. Who finds who and what do they do? Tease, kiss, hug, carry to someplace comfier?"

I hope that you enjoy it, my friend!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24599638

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: 2164

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

“Do you think he’s been tranquilized?!”

“There’s no way someone could tranquilize Iggy, Prom.  Er… right, Gladio?”

“No.  Though he is lookin’ a little pale.”

The soft touch of someone’s warm hand against his brow mixed with the voices slowly started to bring Ignis out of his stupor.

Where was he?

Why was it so dark?

Why did his cheek and back ache like they were?

Slowly, rational thought began to come back to the forefront of the Adviser’s mind.

The last thing he remembered doing was coming back from a four hour meeting with some of the Council.  It was a meeting in preparation of another meeting and if that wasn’t the most tedious thing, he had to write up the minutes of the meeting about a meeting.

Apparently, while in the process of doing so he had managed to nod off at his desk, his cheek firmly pressed into the keys of his laptop and his back hunched over rather uncomfortable.

“M’fine…,” he grumbled, voice hoarse as he tiredly tried to swat at the hand on his forehead, regardless of how nice it felt.

“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of Niflheim,” Gladio countered, though Ignis could hear the smirk in his voice.

Blinking one tired eye open he was proven right about that smirk, though perhaps it was a trick of the light that made him see a bit of worry in those amber eyes as well.

Closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, Ignis sat up from his ill timed nap place, his back crackling in ways that no 19 year olds back should.

“Oh my god, grandpa, what is happening to you?” he heard Noct ask as he finally got himself situated, only to hear a small ‘oof’ follow shortly after.  Looking up he saw Gladio’s hand hovering over the young Prince’s head from a well placed smack and Prompto’s elbow digging into his side.  Both had disapproving looks on their faces and honestly, Ignis did appreciate the gesture on his part.

“I think what his majesty is trying to say is… are you alright, Iggy?” Gladio asked, turning to look back at his friend.  This time there was no mistaking the worry etched over his features and Ignis offered up a tired smile.

“I’m fine, Gladio.  Truly.  A busy week has merely caught up with me.  I was just… resting my eyes,” he said, though his statement lost its effect as he had to cover his mouth to smother a jaw cracking yawn.

“Dude, you were snoring so loud we could hear you from the hall.  We thought a garula had gotten into your office!” Prompto offered up and this time Ignis felt his cheeks flush up.

“And that is the most color I’ve seen  on your face in awhile,” Gladio pointed out as well, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Listen.  I know we pester you about this about once a week, but you need to take some time for yourself.  What would you do if you walked in on Noct sleeping in the middle of… the… ya know what, bad example.”

“Hey!”

Ignis bit his lower lip to stifle a chuckle, causing the other three to turn and look at him.

“I appreciate your concern, but I promise I’m doing just fine.  I can look after myself,” he offered, standing up from his desk and closing his laptop.  “But… judging by you three being here, I assume you needed me for something?”

“Tweedle dee and Tweedle Prom here wanted to head over to the arcade and I was going to escort them.  But… I wanted to check in with you first and make sure his Majesty wasn’t trying to skive off of anything first.”

Ignis smiled at that and shook his head.  “No.  If memory serves Noct finished up his English essay last night and I was going to revise it this evening.  I see no harm in them going out for a few hours.”

“Oh my god, I’m not seven!  It literally sounds like parents setting up a playdate for me!” Noct grumbled, causing Prompto to giggle beside him despite his best efforts.

“Well if you behaved like a good child your mother and I wouldn’t have to do this,” Gladio teased causing Prompto to laugh harder as Ignis rolled his eyes fondly.

“You all are ridiculous.  But you better get going.  I do hope you’ll be back at a reasonable time, however.  I’m making anak steak kebabs this evening,” Ignis said as he began pulling together his notes into a folder to take with him.

“There is absolutely no way I’m missing out on that.  You can bet I’ll have the kids back in time,” Gladio said lightly before turning to Noct and Prompto.  “Gods help you if we miss dinner,” he warned, already starting to herd them out the door.

Ignis chuckled as he watched the trio leaving.  If setting a time rarely kept them on track, then using Gladio’s appetite as an alarm usually worked.  Before long he had all of his papers and his laptop squared away in his carry case and was heading to the Prince’s apartment to start on his evening tasks.

He’d gotten in a nice little cat nap so hopefully he’d be able to have a productive rest of the evening.

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

“I’m such an idiot!”

“Dude, no you’re not!  Noct tell him!”

“No because we were both idiots!”

What was going on?

Where… OH NO!

Ignis sat up so fast he almost sent himself flying backwards in the kitchen chair he’d been seated in.  The only thing saving him from a freefall backwards being Gladio’s quick reflexes and impressive strength.

The Shield in training and reached out in time to brace the back of the chair, causing Ignis to remain half tipped back and looking up at the upside down face of his friend.

“... uh… hello…,” Ignis said sheepishly, his head feeling slightly dizzy from the sudden shift in perspective.  “If you would be so kind as to set me down I think I may have to go check on our dinner.”

“What dinner?  There’s a package of thawed anak steaks on the counter and a couple peppers on the cutting board.  Dinner never happened, Specs,” Noct tried to explain carefully, watching his friend with far more concern than Ignis wanted to see on his face.  Though honestly, hearing that he hadn’t even started on their meal made guilt start bubbling up in his chest.

“I… I’m sorry.  I was just resting my eyes for a mo-...,”  The sudden jolt of being tipped back farther had Ignis flailing slightly as a rather unbecoming yelp escaped him.  Soon he was refocused on Gladio and the look the man was giving him was thunderous.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Ignis.  Not for being exhausted.  And that’s what this is.  Exhaustion.  It’s not just resting your eyes,” Gladio stated, slowly lowering Ignis back to the floor before stepping to the side.  He kept his eyes leveled with the Adviser who, for once, didn’t have a rebuttal ready on the tip of his tongue.  Without anything forthcoming, Gladio took it as a sign to continue.  “We’re worried about you, Ignis.  I knew I shouldn’t have just let this go back at your office.  You need to take a break and get some rest.”

“But…,”

“No.  No buts, Specs,” Noct spoke up, looking just as angry as Gladio and doing a fine job of looking the part of a future monarch.  “I’m ordering you to take time off.  I swear I’ll get my Dad involved if I have to.”

“And I’ll get my Dad to step in as well,” Gladio said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest and standing up taller.

“Yeah!  And… um…,” Prompto paused a moment, trying to figure out his own master stroke before a smug smile finally appeared.  “Sure would be a shame if Cor found out that you were overworking yourself like this.  Remember how he almost had that Councilman’s head when the dick made those comments about you?  How do you think he’ll react knowing that you’re the one running yourself ragged?”

Ignis paused as he heard that, looking between the three of them.  Each one with an absolute look of determination in their eyes.

“So… you three are willing to bother the three most important figureheads of Insomnia against me to make sure I get some rest?” Ignis asked quietly, watching as they all nodded in unison.

“Think about that, Ignis.  We are literally planning on turning a King, a Shield and a Marshal on you to make sure you sleep.  And what’s more… is that you know they’ll make sure you do,” Gladio said simply, this time allowing a small smile to appear.  “And I mean… you’re due for a vacation, right?  We could all go camping for the weekend.  Get you out of the Citadel just to do nothing.  You deserve it.”

There really did seem to be no way of getting out of this and honestly, the last thing he wanted to do was to pull King Regis, Clarus and Cor into this so with a little shake of his head he finally relented.

“Alright.  You three win,” he offered, giving them a tired smile and watching as the trio relaxed in front of him.  “But I swear if this really is an easy going camping trip then that means I don’t have to gut the fish or do the dishes, correct?  I’ll happily cook, but I’m not doing the manual labor.”

“Nah.  That’s what we’ve got Dad for,” Prompto teased, giving Gladio a nudge before finding himself in a headlock, letting out a surprised squeak and flailing against the man's side.

“That’s it… you’re on fish cleaning duty,” Gladio growled playfully, ruffling Prompto’s hair and making him sputter.

Ignis had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing at the ridiculous sight.

Perhaps he really could do with a nice little vacation.  A chance to catch up on some nothingness and just… take a break?

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

“I mean… we did say that he should use the time to catch up on rest.  Right, guys?”

“Well.. yeah, but I was betting it would be reading in the shade or… I don’t know… reading not in the shade.”

“Shh… if you two don’t keep it down you’ll wake him up,” Gladio whispered as they all took in the sight before them.

After their mini intervention at Noct’s apartment it had been agreed that they would all go on a small camping trip to get out of the Citadel.  Get Ignis away from the hustle and bustle and let him get a chance to relax.

And to be fair everything had been going as planned.  They’d made it to the haven in good time and Gladio had already set up the tent while Noct and Prompto scouted out the best places to go fishing and to get firewood.

Ignis had mentioned leaving his new book in the backseat of the car and they hadn’t thought anything of it.  

Until fifteen minutes had passed and no Adviser had returned.

Fearing foul play they had all taken off in a mad dash back to the car only to come across something they had all become far too accustomed to as of late.

Sprawled out in the backseat of the car, hand loosely holding onto the missing book, mouth slightly agape and glasses askew, Ignis was out like a light.  The soft snoring coming from the young Adviser was a testament that he was definitely not disturbed by their arrival and that spoke volumes of just how tired he had been.

Click.

“You know that when he finds out you took a picture of him like that you’re a dead man, right?” Noct asked Prompto, the blond only chuckling and looking at the picture on his camera.

“What?  He looks so peaceful right now!  I couldn’t help myself.  When do we get to see a peaceful, Iggy?  Never!”

“If you two are done maybe you could help me?” Gladio said, arms already full of the sleeping Adviser who, even after being shifted around, still slept on completely oblivious to the world around him.  Though Gladio did have to fight a blush when the man nuzzled against his chest slightly.

“Oh my gods, please let me take another picture?  Please!  He’s literally being adorable right now and that’s even more rare than a peaceful Iggy!” Prompto asked even as they all began to make their way back to the tent.

“Heck, it’s even more rare then a sleeping Ignis,” Noct teased, making Gladio chuckle.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Gladio said lightly, looking down at Ignis as the poor guy slept on, completely unawares of their conversation.  Gods he needed this and Gladio was more than ready to make sure that he got to enjoy as much rest as he needed.   

“He’s just... resting his eyes.”

[galactic-academia]

Prompt 46 for Sherlock please! 💕

I could hide in a hole for being this late… Or I could swear I’ll answer all the requests I got. I chose option two. I hope you will enjoy it

Rating: G

Category: F/M

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/Female Reader

Tags: Fluff & Angst, Young Sherlock, Sherlock Needs A Hug, Declaration Of Love, First Kiss, Happy Ending.

Words: 1200

Notes: I’m not a native, please, forgive my mistakes. Gif is not mine. I hope you will enjoy it

Masterpost | Ask | Guidelines | Sherlock (BBC) Masterlist

It’s not that Sherlock is unable to have feelings, he does. It’s not that Sherlock is insensitive, he just hides his feelings. It’s not that Sherlock didn’t fall for Irene Adler because he’s unable to love. Quite the contrary. He’s already in love, and he’s faithful. “To whom?” Will ask the curious ones while the tattletales will call bullshit and still call him “The Virgin” (thanks to Irene; jealousy doesn’t fit her as you can see). Well, that’s a strange story, also a little sad one, I’m afraid, the kind of even Mycroft doesn’t speak about. It’s not that sad, no, just… See by yourself.

Talking about Mycroft, he may have mess around with his brother’s memories, but he would never be able to tamper theses ones, he wouldn’t have dare to. At secondary school, Sherlock didn’t have any friend. He was too special, too clever, too cold, too scary for it. But not scary enough to hold off the bullies. You know what they say, violence is moron’s language. So, Sherlock learned boxing, if his icy glares weren’t enough, his fist would finish the job. And it’s always interesting to know multiples languages. He was safe, plus or mine. There were always one or the other fools to try and prank him, but they always regretted their foolishness soon. He was lonely, though. And even if he acted like it was exactly what he wanted, he couldn’t lie to himself. Alone wasn’t protecting him, Alone was eating him alive.

If Sherlock had been the kind of person to read romantic novels or to watch silly series on TV, he would have been disgusted to see how much what had happened to him looked like one of their scripts. He was 15 when a new student joined his grade; a girl who looked so clumsy and shy that she was almost painful to look at. She was going to be a prey of choice for all the jerks, that was for sure. Even more since she had openly decided to sit next to Sherlock, while smiling to him, in addition. The inevitable happened, the second the teacher left the classroom, the biggest, the stupidest guy in their grade got up and went straight for the newest student.

If you asked to Sherlock why he became a detective (while he has a chemistry degree), several answers could be offered to you: he may say this was all about his addiction to the mystery if he was half honest, or because of his inability to not find the right answer if he felt smug, maybe because he had to do something with his life if he felt depressed, or you wouldn’t have any answer at all, it would be most likely. Sherlock would never answer it was because defending the weaker ones than himself had changed his life when he was 15.

The moment the bully stretched his hand out to grope at the new student’s hair, Sherlock sent him flying trough the classroom. He didn’t know, at this very moment, why he had felt the urge to protect the girl, but it was too late. It was done. And he was also done, since the bully’s friends were ready to beat him. What a surprise it had been when the young girl – Y/N he would learn soon – caught the nearest moron to, first, return his wrist and, then, send her knee right in his sensitive areas.

“I’ll also break the nose of the next who moves.”

This had had Sherlock agape; even more when Y/N had returned to her seat, blushing madly under his gaze. The shy girl had been back as suddenly as the tigress had been out. And he had known. As stupid as it can seem, he had known she would be the one. Sure, he had done his best to not acknowledge these frightening feelings, to not think about her, dream about her, to not write ballad for her – erk! How disgusting! – to not let his hand crept closer to hers while they were having lunch together, to not shift awkwardly when she had her head on his lap, helping him rehearsing for a test, to not just kiss her whenever she was close enough, all the time…

By the time he was 17, he had stopped to resist. He was ready. He had learnt how to dance, he was going to ask her to be his partner to the night prom and, by the end of the night, he was going to ask her out. He was ready. What he hadn’t be ready for was her telling him light-heartedly that she was going to be the partner of the very idiot who tried to ill-treat her three years ago. He even hadn’t had the chance to try. And he wasn’t ready to see her dancing in his arm, he wasn’t ready to have his heart broken. Maybe loneliness wasn’t this bad, after all.

See, that’s such a stupid story. Just a disappointing young love. But it had been so, so painful… it couldn’t happen again. Never. So, Sherlock built thick walls around him and armed himself with sarcasm and coldness. His heart became unreachable, Alone was protecting him, again. Eating him up alive. Again.

But Sherlock never stops thinking, especially about her. She still plagues his thoughts, his dreams. His regrets. If he only had been braver, if he hadn’t given up this easily, maybe… Maybe… Maybe he wouldn’t be alone on John and Mary’s wedding, maybe he wouldn’t fell this awkward about love and feelings, maybe he wouldn’t be so sad to see what he has missed. Oh, no, he isn’t jealous, quite the opposite, despite everything he shows, he’s always happy to see the people who counts for him being full of joy.

People may think he’s leaving the wedding early because he’s jealous or sad or whatever they want, Sherlock doesn’t care. He’s just ready again, ready to be brave, ready to be honest. Did he ever pronounce Y/N’s name after the prom night? No, never. Did he act like he forgot her, like he didn’t give a shit anymore? Yes, he does. Was it total bullshit? Absolutely. Sherlock had always kept an eye on her from afar, he knew where she went at University, what was her job, her address. The cab driver too, now.

He’s cold and afraid, but there’s light inside, both Y/N’s house and Sherlock’s heart. And there’s a cheer “Coming!” when he rings the bell. And disbelief on Y/N’s face when she opens the door.

“Sherlock?”

“Hum… What if I tell you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids?”

The first answer he gets is an angry and hungry kiss. Y/N is holding him by his collar as to prevent him to fly away. This is probably exactly why she’s holding him this way. Sherlock’s almost sure. When they finally break the kiss, Y/N is smiling at him, both shyly and daringly, as she was challenging him to complain.

“I’ve been waiting for 15 years to hear that, sorry to not want to wait one more minute.”

***

Thanks for reading

[morganaspendragonss]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a TK sick or injured fic with the focus on Owen doing the comfort?? I’m loving your writing.

Hope you’re okay with sick and injured, anon, because that’s what I've written! (ao3)

This pairs as my submission for @911lonestarweek‘s day two prompt - I’ll be by your side. 

tw - implied/referenced homophobia, implied/referenced drug abuse and overdose, general injuries

The second Owen lays eyes on his son, he immediately knows he’d do anything to protect him from harm. He doesn’t know yet just how difficult that will be, but he suspects - although even his wildest suspicions don’t even begin to cover it. He still swears it, though, right there in the hospital, while Gwyneth is resting and Tyler is asleep in his arms.

“I promise, Tyler Kennedy Strand,” he whispers, almost so quiet he can’t hear himself, desperate as he is not to wake his son. “I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always protect you.”

i.

When Tyler is four - though they’ve switched to calling him T.K. now, his full name becoming too much of a mouthful, and just generally too much - he falls while playing with some friends in the park. 

At first, Owen expects him to get up and walk it off; T.K.’s tough like that. And, at first, it seems like he will. He pushes himself until he’s sitting rather than lying on the ground, but instead of getting to his feet, he just stares at his hands.

Owen’s up and moving before the first tear even begins to fall, kneeling next to his son and putting an arm around him protectively. T.K.’s not too injured, fortunately - he’s skinned both of his knees and there’s a tiny cut on his right palm - but Owen knows that the shock of the fall would have been worse than the actual pain itself.

T.K. sniffles and turns his face into Owen’s shoulder, his head tucked under Owen’s chin. 

“You’re okay,” Owen murmurs. He pulls away and tilts T.K.’s face up to look at him. “C’mon, bud. How about we get you cleaned up, then we can get some ice cream?”

T.K.’s face lights up and he bounds to his feet, injury forgotten. Owen is slower to get up, his knees cracking, but he smiles as he watches T.K. race around, grinning at the prospect of ice cream despite his bloody knees. 

Owen wishes all of a sudden that skinned knees and playground falls would be the only pain his son would ever have to worry about. 

ii. 

By the time T.K. is fourteen, it’s abundantly clear to Owen why his friends warned him about the teenage years. He’s angry what seems like all the time, pulling away from Owen and shutting himself in his room, snapping over dinner, and his grades are dropping.

Part of Owen knows this is normal - or, at the very least, something all parents have to go through. The other part of him knows it’s far from normal, even for a teenager; T.K. has had, after all, a far from normal upbringing. 

And, yeah, Owen knows pretty much every kid over the age of ten in New York has felt the impact of 9/11. Christ, the entire country - the entire world - felt it, maybe even still feels.

But not every kid’s dad was there. Not every kid had to deal with the fact that their parent might not come back - though their family was one of the luckier ones in that regard. Not every kid went through a divorce on top of everything else.

Point is, T.K.’s always had it harder than most, but Owen knows that still doesn’t fully explain this new behaviour. Particularly not when he gets a call one morning, telling him that T.K.’s been in a fight and could he please come in to collect him?

Except Owen can’t go, the alarm going off in the middle of the call, so the school just sends him home, though the woman on the phone clearly disapproves. Gwyneth normally deals with this kind of thing, but she’s away at a conference out of state, so Owen’s left to pick up the slack.

Fortunately, the shift’s only 12 hours, so he’s back home by seven; still not ideal, but it’s the better circumstance. T.K.’s sat on the couch when he gets in, a bag of frozen peas defrosting on the table next to him.

Owen clears his throat and T.K. whips around, exposing a split lip and a developing black eye. 

“You should see the other guy,” he says, but the joke falls flat, and he sighs, turning back around and hanging his head. Owen walks over and sits next to him, wincing at the way T.K. shifts away.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asks, as gently as he can. Anger, he’s decided, will not help here.

T.K. shrugs. “I got in a fight. It’s no big deal.”

“No big -” Owen stops and lets out a breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “Alright, let’s try this again. Why were you fighting?”

“It was nothing.”

“T.K.”

“Nothing, I swear!”

“So you just hit him?” Owen lets a little anger into his voice, and it’s enough to get T.K.’s attention, his gaze sliding over briefly before snapping back to the floor.

“No,” he admits. “It’s just. He said some stuff. Called me a -” He stops abruptly, then shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Owen raises his eyebrows. “So some kid called you a name, does that mean you should hit him?” he asks. “Come on, T.K., you’re fourteen, not four.”

It was the wrong thing to say, and Owen knows it as soon as the words leave his mouth. T.K. rounds on him, fury in his eyes, but it’s the tears that accompany it that surprise Owen. 

“You really want to know?” T.K. demands, though he doesn’t give Owen a chance to answer. “He told me it was my fault you and Mom split up. Said that it’s no wonder neither of you are around considering I’m a -” He stops, stricken. “A f - The f-word,” he finishes quietly.

Owen frowns. “Fuck?” he says, though he doesn’t mean to. He winces, but it’s enough to get T.K. to crack a small smile, brief as it is. 

“No, Dad,” he says, strangely gentle. “The other one.”

“The other… Oh.” 

“Yeah.” T.K. chews on his lip, then turns to Owen, apparently making his mind up about something. “It’s true, Dad. I’m a - I’m gay.”

“Oh.” And Owen knows that’s not the right thing to say, but he can’t find the right words just now. He watches his son, sorrow filling him at the tears in T.K.’s eyes, at the apprehension on his face, the doubt. Owen hates himself for it.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Owen says eventually. “I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

“Really?” 

Owen smiles. “Yeah, really.”

And before he can get another word out, T.K.’s hugging him, so tight that Owen can’t breathe for a second. Once he’s got his breath back, he laughs, and brings his arms around T.K., only just then realising how much he had been missing this.

iii. 

The call comes in the middle of the night, just as Owen is finally dozing off after a 24-hour shift. He’s awake and pulling on clothes before he’s even aware he’s moving, calling a cab as soon as the woman puts the phone down. All his instincts are screaming at him to get in the car and drive, but common sense tells him that he’d probably crash it, tired and anxious as he is, and that’s the last thing everyone needs.

The cab doesn’t pick him up for another fifteen minutes, New York traffic playing havoc even at this late hour, and Owen gets more jittery by the second. By the time he’s en route, his mind has gone through every potential scenario, each one worse than the last.

Fuck, how could he have missed this? Sure, he’d noticed that T.K. had become more withdrawn from him recently, and he’s aware that his son likes going out and partying more than is advisable, but he’d just chalked it up to being young.

And yet… The more Owen thinks about it, the more he realises the signs were all there, and he’d missed every single one of them. T.K. had almost died tonight, and it’s all Owen’s fault.

He’s never going to forgive himself for this.

The receptionist at the front desk points him to T.K.’s room, her kind smile doing nothing to calm Owen’s nerves. He races there, earning himself several reproachful looks from staff, but he can’t bring himself to care. He needs to see his son.

T.K.’s room is dark, but through the windows, Owen can make out his prone form in the bed. His heart leaps in fear, but then he sees the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm. 

Owen breathes out shakily, taking a moment to compose himself before heading inside. 

T.K.’s awake, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He doesn’t acknowledge Owen’s presence in the room, and Owen feels his heart break a little, noting how thin, how small his son looks in the hospital bed. 

God, he’s really failed this time, hasn’t he?

But he drags his thoughts away from his own failures; T.K. is all that matters now. Owen eases himself into the chair next to the bed, debating whether or not to speak.

He decides against it eventually, instead just laying a hand on T.K.’s shoulder. T.K. looks over then, briefly, before returning his gaze to the ceiling. But he doesn’t brush Owen off, which he takes as his first victory.

Small steps, he tells himself. Small steps.

iv. 

T.K. rarely gets sick; even as a kid, he’d tended to avoid all the coughs and colds that plagued his school friends. His system had taken a hit after the overdose, but recently he’s seemed to have regained most of his old immunity.

Which is why it’s even more concerning when he calls in sick one morning, sounding even over the phone like death warmed up. Owen has to just take it at the time, no time to check on him before his shift, but he’s over to T.K.’s apartment like a shot as soon as he’s done, the fact that it’s the early hours be damned.

T.K. takes a while to answer his knocks, and Owen’s considering breaking in when the door swings open. 

“What the hell, Dad?” T.K. croaks, shuffling to the side to let Owen in. Owen doesn’t bother answering, instead surveying the mess strewn all around the place. T.K. doesn’t obsess over cleaning, but he’s generally fairly tidy, and never this messy; the table is buried in tissues, unwashed plates are stacked in the sink, and the laundry basket is overflowing. It makes Owen wonder how long T.K.’s been ill for without saying anything, but he chooses not to think about that too much.

But one look at his son confirms that he’s been feeling under the weather for a while - a few days, at the very least. He’s got tired bags under his eyes, and his face is pale and drawn. He’s hunched over, blankets wrapped around his thin shoulders, and he looks like he’s about to fall over any second.

It reminds Owen violently of the hell withdrawal had wreaked on T.K., on his body, though he’d been mercifully spared most of the fallout from that. T.K. had lasted it out in rehab and, whilst Owen had visited as much as he’d been able, he’d still had a job to hold down. 

He wonders if he should feel guilty about being grateful for that.

He shakes the thought from his head and steers T.K. over to the couch, easing him down into it even as T.K. weakly swats at him. Owen glances around the room again and sighs.

“Okay,” he says, then sets to work, starting off with the rubbish on the coffee table.

“Dad, don’t -” T.K. starts, but Owen sends him a look.

“Shut up, T.K.,” he says, and T.K. does. 

Owen cleans the entire apartment, guiding T.K. to bed as soon as he starts dropping off because falling asleep on the sofa is the last thing he needs. It’s late when he’s done; too late, he reasons, to go home now. His uniform’s with him in his bag and, besides, he knows he’ll sleep better here with T.K. in the next room. 

Sure, T.K. will probably be pissed when he wakes up and finds him still here, but Owen thinks that that’s a price he’s willing to pay.

v. 

T.K.’s silent the entire way back from the hospital. So is Owen. There’s no point trying to force a conversation now; T.K. will talk when he’s ready. 

They go back to Owen’s apartment, and T.K. heads straight to the roof. Owen is scared for a brief second, but then T.K. turns to look back at him, letting him know that he wanted Owen to follow.

T.K. barely looks at him as they talk, but it’s impossible to miss the shame and guilt in his expression. Owen tries to comfort his son as best he can, wishes he could tell him that everything’s okay, but he can’t. Nothing about this is okay.

He doesn’t know what to do. It’s all too much - Alex, the fact that Owen’s not sure it was as accidental as T.K. claim, his own cancer diagnosis. Even the New York air is stifling to him now.

Owen has lived in this city for pretty much his entire life. He loves it here. Everything he cares about is here. And yet.

Owen makes a split second decision.

“Pack your stuff,” he says. “We’re getting out of town.”

+1 

It’s the sort of thing Owen’s been dreading, ever since T.K. decided to follow him into firefighting. He’s always tried to shove the fear to the back of his mind, because their job is dangerous; getting hurt is an inevitability.

The job has put T.K. in the hospital before, but usually it’s just smoke inhalation, or some other simple, non-threatening injury. Nothing like this.

Owen’s trying to be optimistic; the doctors have told him there’s no reason not to be. T.K.’s young, healthy, and the surgery went as well as it could have done. But he also knows that T.K. almost died in that house, and there’s still a chance that Michelle just delayed it by a day or so. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to clear his mind. He succeeds, for a moment, but all the thoughts are back as soon as he opens them again, the sight of T.K. in that bed bringing too many memories back.

It’s the third time he’s almost lost his son, and the second in six months. He wonders morbidly if they’ve finally run out of chances, but he knows he shouldn’t think like that either.

This is different, though. Before, Owen was able to comfort T.K., to talk to him and hold him through the worst of it. He can’t do anything now except sit, and wait, and pray that T.K. will wake up. 

Helpless is not something Owen Strand is accustomed to feeling. And yet, as it settles deep inside his bones, he wonders if it will ever go away again.

[chezforshire]

for the fictional kisses prompt, could you do number 12 with bubbline? sorry if this is not the right place too submit, i am new too tumblr and english is not my first language. either way have a lovely day! :)

You're doing good! And have a lovely day too!

(working under the arrangement marriage au cause im an idiot that wanted to do that instead of the easy way which was a kiss durin the war but whatever ig)

Her throat was in so much pain. Trying to speak felt like dragging her skin through concrete. Whatever noise that escaped her lips sounded like nails on chalkboard. This was a very miserable experience but she was determined to get through it.

She picked up a notebook that didn't have anything important and a farely new pen. She wrote down several phrases and words then ventured outside. She runs into Jake, one half of her personal knights, and when he greets her she's prepared by showing him the page she wrote "Good morning" down on.

Jake raised an eyebrow at her. She flipped to a different page that said "Sore throat." He made a small noise of understanding and nods at her with a smile. He offers to tell the kitchen staff to make something to sooth her throat and ask the clinic for some medicine. She nods and smiles in thanks.

"Oh and by the way, Mar-" he cuts himself off, seeing a maid wander in the hallway they were in to clean. "Her highness is in the study, having finished her workshop with the younger Banana Guards."

She raised an eyebrow at that. She doesnt remember asking her lover to conduct an audience with her guards. Jake merely shrugs at her with a sly smile. He bows to her slightly and takes his leave. She scrunches up her face in confusion and decides to merely ask her.

She finds Lady tending to some flowers by the stairs, and asks her to bring breakfast for herself and Marceline to the study and, after a moment's thought, asks her to procure some medicine as well. She was eternally glad that her friend could understand the indecipherable scratches that is her handwriting. She wasn't sure how long she would last if she had to slow her hand for others to understand he scrawl.

She slips into the study quietly and finds her lover lounging by an armchair. A soft smile comes onto her face as she makes her way to her.

Marceline cracks an eye open and returns her smile. She reached for her hand which she gladly held onto. The vampire pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles and tugged her to sit on her lap.

"Good morning, my sweet." She murmurs, nuzzling into her neck. She pulls the right page out and presents it to Marceline, tapping the woman for her to take notice of it.

She blinks and looks up at her. She pulls one of her hands in front of her and started making gestures. She tilted her head in question. "Ah, I shall teach it to you at a later date." She returns her hand around the candy golem and presses a soft kiss to her neck. "I assume you are ill. That is an unfortunate thing to wake up to."

She bobs her head in assent. She shrugs her shoulders a little, hoping to convey that she didn't see it as too much of a problem. She could communicate in other ways. Her day will not be deterred.

Their food arrived soon along with the medicine she asked for. They were placed on the low table in front of them, the servant bowing deeply to both of them before leaving. She picks up the cup of tea first and gladly takes several sips. It irritated her throat slightly, but she knew it would soothe whatever was ailling her.

She sees the apple float in from the corner of her eye. It floats towards them and lands in Marceline's palm. "If you don't mind," she murmured, "I shall accompany you throughout the day."

She absently nods. The company would be more than appreciated, it would be nice to complain to someone without having to write paragraphs to be understood.

They finished their breakfast in relative silence and spent some minutes relaxing in the room.

The day passed by and she realized why Marceline had decided to stay by her side. The vampire, swearing by her name to not have telepathy, knew precisely what she wanted to say to dignitaries and staff alike.

When she would accompany her on other days, she would stand several steps behind and interject only to make quips. But today, she stood by her side and spoke for her. She seemed to only need to glance at her then suddenly she would say the words Bonnibel was forming behind her lips.

She would rarely ask her to write dowm her words, usually only to ask for her permission for something or if she had said the right thing.

She was impressed by her and felt more than a little warm over it. Marceline showed little desire to meddle in official affairs, and yet she knew her wife so well that she could express almost exactly what she was thinking. It was such a nice feeling seeing well she knew her and how willing she was to help her in something she cared little for.

Halfway through the afternoon she had to pull her wife to a secluded room and wrap her arms tightly around her. Voice hoarse, she whispered "I love you so much, little bat." She tilts her head up and rasped "Kiss me?"

Marceline chuckles at her and kisses her cheek. She scrunches up her face, knowing full well Marceline knew what she meant. "Forgive me, love, but I have no desire to catch whatever it is you have. I quite like my voice and I know you feel the same." Marceline gives her a sly smile and she lightly flicks her pointed ear in retaliation.

Marceline smiles widely at her, all fangs and happiness. "Should this pass by tomorrow, I assure you of affection to the point you will push me away." She scoffs at her, knowing very well she was serious. Her smile softens and she nuzzles her cheek. "As it is, you are ill and hardly in any shape to speak. So allow me to be your voice, assuming I have been doing well in that task."

That last part was whispered, the vampire genuinely worried over not doing well enough. She shakes her head and pulls her closer. "Doing good," she forced out. "Thank you, love."

She feels Marceline release a tension she didn't realize she was carrying. She felt her lips curl into a smile against her cheek. "Fantastic. This is no problem, dear." She pulls away and gently taps the candy golem's nose. "I love you too, now please no more speaking."

She grabs her hand and guides her out of the room. She was very glad her wife knew her so well. She hoped this would pass soon, she wanted to sing her praises. If it doesnt, well she knows other ways to thank her that would have the added bonus of hearing her wife's beautiful voice.

[fandom-necromancer]

1081+1088. Highly Professional

This story was prompted by an awesome anon! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Allen60

Sixty shifted through the multiple sensors his body had been equipped with. Zooming in he could see Captain Allen’s back of the head partly peeking through the blinds of his office. His infrared vision detected he hadn’t moved in a while and if he listened closely, he could hear tapping on the keyboard. From that sound alone he knew the man was using the backspace more intently than any other key. Allen was writing something. And he was growing increasingly frustrated. Before he could hack his way into the system to find out what exactly he was working on, he was interrupted in the most annoying way:

‘Hey, Sixty, how are you?’ ‘Fuck off, Connor.’ If he zoomed in enough, maybe he could get a glimpse on his screen from the reflection in the window… ‘So, good as always, huh? What are you staring at?’ The other RK800 bend forwards to try and get the same perspective as the younger android. ‘Oh, so we are spying on our superior? Do I sense something there?’ ‘I don’t know Connor, you tell me’, Sixty grumbled, interfacing with his terminal. That hack was too tempting to care for protocol. ‘Hmm, I would say you have a crush on him.’ The terminal produced an error sound as Sixty flinched at the words and turned towards the other android. ‘Excuse me? I’m not the one who allows his feelings to overcome him. It would be highly unprofessional and against protocol. And even if, the Captain surely has other things to worry about at the moment. His reports are sloppy, and his research is not as thoroughly as it used to be. He clearly has something else occupying his mind and knowing his professionalism, it has to be something serious.’ But Connor only grinned at him knowingly. ‘Oh, so you are worried about him? How cute!’ ‘No, I am not worried’, Sixty near exploded. ‘I simply try to keep an eye on the team to ensure the best results on future missions.’ ‘Sure, sure. That’s why you keep staring at Allen’s office only. Come on, you can tell me! It’s nothing to be ashamed about.’ ‘I don’t have to tell you anything, Connor’, he hissed. If there was one thing, he could bond with the RK900 over it was that Connor was annoying as hell. But, well, so was Nines in the end. Sixty was very content to stay at maximum distance from their desks, sitting in a completely different building across the parking lot. But of course, the other RK800 wouldn’t agree and stubbornly insist to come visit him.

‘Hmm, well then for the sake of ensuring everyone is at their best in future missions, why don’t you visit your Captain after work, hmm?’ ‘And just why would I do that? That is a violation of privacy and would be highly unprofessional as we are co-workers.’ But Connor didn’t falter: ‘But you could find out why Allen’s work is so sloppy. And helping him getting better would be beneficial to your work, wouldn’t it?’ ‘There is some… logic in your words’, Sixty pressed out between gritted teeth. He knew the android’s main goal was for him to find friends. Little did Connor know he didn’t need any. ‘Hey, we got the same brain, haven’t we?’ Sixty looked over to the office again and grumbled under his breath: ‘Yeah, only that some people know how to use it and not play pretend with a human.’ Connor ignored his words. ‘I would say pizza and beer would be a good way to infiltrate his house and start the investigation.’ He winked at him and pushed himself off the table. ‘Hey, not everyone is a fast-food-loving alcoholic!’, Sixty complained, trying to ignore whatever implications that wink suggested. ‘His favourite kind is Fungi!’, the RK800 called back to him, already on his way back, Sixties offense not even wavering his joyous tone the slightest.

-

The whole day had been overcast and by the time Sixty walked up to the small house pressed into the space between two others, it had started to pour. The small little droplets that had occasionally hit against him now was more of a constant stream that had him soaked through in minutes. Not that it mattered: his hull was completely waterproof, and he couldn’t get ill, but it let his hair stick to his head and his clothes to his frame. It destroyed all the effort he put into his perfect outer appearance and although Sixty had always hated admitting to having strong emotions, he hated it.

And not just the rain. He was about to invade a co-worker’s privacy with this, worse even, his superior’s privacy. It didn’t matter how well they got along and how much every friendly interaction made his pump whirr faster and his processor heat up a few degrees. If Allen had wanted this, he would have invited him already. This “worry”, as Connor had put it, was something extremely out of place. This was only him satisfying his curiosity, nosing into something that wasn’t meant for him, and still he rung the bell. ‘No, sorry, I don’t have-’, Captain Allen said, exhaustion tiring his voice as he opened the door. But he stopped as he saw the familiar face of his colleague. ‘Sixty?’ ‘I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza’, Sixty deadpanned, overlaying that awkward feeling with pure confidence. ‘I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.’ ‘Err… what?’ ‘Your performance at work has been sloppy at best and you are constantly absent-minded. Because I… care for you – you and the team of course – I wanted to make sure I did my part trying to help you. I brought food and socially accepted drugs to apologise for my breach in protocol and unprofessional behaviour.’ They stared at each other, Sixty forcing his face to stay neutral and Allen looking at him trying to decipher the androids unique way of saying one thing and meaning the other. Then he smiled and laughed. ‘Get over here, you doof. Did you decide to take a swim or did your overly advanced processor forgot to bring an umbrella? Come in, I’ll get you a towel.’ ‘I don’t nee-‘ ‘You will if you want to join me at the table’, the Captain interrupted him while closing the door behind the dripping android. ‘Just put this in the kitchen for now, okay?’

Sixty nodded and located the room to put down the pizza and beer on the counter. From behind him he could hear Allen talk to someone. ‘Look Newton! Look who came to visit!’ Sixty risked a look around the corner to see the man kneel in front of a Great Dane. As soon as the dog spotted him, there was a low woof and he ran for him. Unsure about what to do but fascinated nonetheless, he watched the dog stand in front of him looking up and wagging his tail. ‘For God’s sake, pet him already, I can’t look at this’, Allen chuckled as he walked past him to inspect the pizza-box. ‘Okay, how the hell do you all know what my favourite type of pizza is? I swear I never told anyone.’ ‘Connor’, Sixty was ready to tell on his fellow RK800 unit. ‘He told me at least.’ ‘How does- ah forget it. Thank you, Sixty. Should we go to the living room? I… I guess I don’t have anything for you though…’ ‘I don’t eat’, the android said, standing up from where he had been slobbered by the dog. ‘… Right.’

They sat down on a table for four and Newton retreated to his own bed near it. ‘So, you are worried for me?’ ‘I wouldn’t call it worry. And it’s for the whole team.’ Allen smirked. ‘I never heard you making house calls with the others.’ ‘What does it matter?’ ‘Oh, nothing. Just an interesting point I think.’ ‘If I am giving you a special treatment, then that’s because you are the most capable human I know. That’s all.’ ‘Hmm-hmm’, Allen hummed knowingly and Sixty cursed inwardly. It had technically been the truth. But not the full truth. ‘Well, then, what are you all not-worried about?’ Sixty swallowed. ‘Your reports are missing important details. All your work e-mails have more typos than usually in them. During training you aren’t as attentive. There is something on your mind and… I thought I could help.’

‘Did you… Did you hack into my computer?’ ‘Not yet’, Sixty admitted. ‘But I can see every data-transfer in our precinct as most is transmitted through the android network automatically.’ ‘That’s… a bit creepy.’ ‘Don’t worry, I corrected all your documents. No one knows.’ ‘You… Wow. Okay, I am mad at you, but I guess I also have to thank you? Why are you doing this?’ Sixty took to watching the dog finding a better position. He didn’t want to admit it himself, but maybe he had to. ‘I respect you. And I heard friends care for each other. I thought keeping you from other’s gossip and your own embarrassment would be what you wanted.’ ‘Well, yeah, I guess so…’ ‘Can I ask what has you so distracted, Captain?’

The man rubbed at his temple. ‘Oh it’s- It’s probably nothing, but my sister is at the hospital at the moment. I didn’t have the time to see her yet and I tell myself it’s not that bad because she is doing well, and we talked on the telephone already. But I still don’t feel too good about leaving her alone there.’ ‘Is it something serious?’, Sixty asked. ‘Oh, no, not really. She broke her arm in a stupid accident’, Allen explained. ‘But we are siblings and we had always been very close. I should have been there from day one or at least freed some time somewhere to go visit her. But I had always been that busy and forgot and-‘ ‘Then go visit her tomorrow’, Sixty suggested. ‘I can’t, there is a lot of work and the dead-lines are close. I wanted to finish that.’ ‘I could do that for you. Then you could go visit her.’ ‘You would do that?’, Allen asked surprised. ‘Why have an advanced android in your team and never make use of his abilities?’, Sixty followed up with another question. ‘Heh. Always thought you were the cold type, Sixty, not gonna lie.’ ‘I am what people expect. I won’t be as quirky as Connor, because I don’t want to, I have a thing for rules, and I am ambitious. Doesn’t mean I’m not looking after the people around me.’ ‘The people?’ ‘You.’ Sixty was now very focussed on the dog. He had already said too much.

‘Thank you, Sixty’, the Captain said and meant it. ‘I may have had the wrong picture of you, but if you could do that for me, I would be immensely grateful.’ Idiot, I would do anything for you, Sixty thought, but looked back up and nodded. ‘It’s no big deal, really.’ ‘Still, I have to thank you’, Allen insisted and leaned back. ‘Hey, now that you are here already… Would it be highly unprofessional if you stayed a while longer?’ The android thought about it and shrugged. ‘I think we passed professional as I walked in here.’ ‘Oh good, because there is this movie on later tonight and I thought maybe we could-’ Sixty remained a neutral face as the man rambled about the plot and thought back to Connor’s words.

Yeah, okay, maybe he was right. Maybe he had a bit of a crush on this man.