#its been almost two months of non stop worrying about this shit

[tryin]

local girl cries about not having job again

[maxislvt]

thank u for the most recent wanda x spider reader i love it so much thank u😭😭😭more please its so good

warnings: very brief mentions of arguing, brief injury

I'm considering making it a full fic but some headcanons for now!!!

When you guys first start dating, she catches you at really bad times. your identity is a secret so you have to keep explaining to her how you somehow escaped the bank that almost got robbed safely via an alleyway that doesn't connect to the other side of the street

Wanda can tell you're lying but can't really figure out why for a while. It makes her a little nervous so maybe she peaks into your mind and that's how she finds out you're Spider-Punk. For a long while she doesn't say anything. One, because she feels bad for not trusting you. Two, because now that she knows it's really obvious and she's embarrassed that she didn't catch on sooner

It's not that you don't do a good job of hiding your identity from the public, you're just really bad at lying to Wanda. Even small things like if you had breakfast or not make you crack under pressure

After a few months of dating, you do come clean and tell Wanda. She tries to act shocked but she's really bad at it, so Wanda just tells you she already knew but didn't want to tell

Despite the awkwardness of the confession, it makes things a lot easier but can be the cause of some arguments.

Sometimes you come home and look like shit cause some guy with super strength slammed a car into your body or you somehow a building collapsed on you and Wanda can't stand seeing you like that. Of course you understand but it's upsetting because she's always trying to convince you to take a break or even step down after rough fights but you never stop her from being an avenger. Even when she's gone for weeks at a time. Even on the worst days you two still love each other and sleep in the same bed. Maybe it takes a while, but you two will be fine again

Despite her concerns, or maybe because she'll never stop being concerned, she takes pride in being the one to patch you up. Wanda would never really do anything to stop you from being Spider-Punk, but she can at least stop you from getting some nasty infection. There's an odd calmness in it. It's late, you're both tired, and want nothing more to snuggle into each other and not worry

As you two get older and enter more committed stages of your relationship, I do see Wanda trying to convince you to become an Avenger. You're apprehensive at first. Your priority has always been the city. It wasn't that you didn't care about other worldly threats, but you're not willing to abandon the place you grew up in. Eventually you settle on being a part time avenger. Not having to build your stuff in the garage certainly aided that choice

Wanda hoards all your little sketchbooks. She doesn't understand most of the math or chemistry scribbled into but they have so much of your personality in them she can't help but love them. Everything from the coffee stains to the doodles of what you wanted for lunch that day.

Oh and she definitely cashes in on all the official merch you get once you become an avenger. All the little plushies, bandaids, and posters??? Oh she's buying all of it. There's something so ironic about you having to prompt a non-stick skillet despite being an absolute menace in the kitchen .

[the-archangel]

Are Friends Electric?

Kerry and V have had a row, don't blame me it wasn't my fault :D

Misty is worried, it’s almost three hours ago now that V had taken the elevator to the roof. This wasn’t unusual in itself as he often went up there to spend time with his thoughts, but this time he’d bypassed the store, presumably to avoid a conversation, Misty only knew he was up there because she’d seen the flash of his currently blue hair on the way past and then heard the hum soon after as the elevator made its way to the top of the building.

He’d seemed better, more stable lately. The operation had affected him mentally more than anything else, months of physical therapy had helped him walk again and build up enough stamina to start to go back to training, but his absolute refusal to talk about what happened to anyone but Kerry had been a worry, even to the Rockerboy himself.

She respected that he didn’t want to talk, he had a lot going on and found it hard to articulate, sometimes making him embarrassed and angry, but he’d gone up a long time now and Misty knew that it wasn’t long ago he’d been up there with a pill and a gun weighing up his options. Locking the door, she makes her way up to the roof.

-

Slouched on the grubby white garden chair V cuts a pathetic figure, a bottle in one hand and a cigarette almost burnt down to his fingers in the other. Misty sighs with relief, she’d expected worse although she’s only now realising it. Kneeling quietly in front of him she flicks the cig from his fingers and places the three-quarters empty bottle onto the floor gently shaking his knee to bring his attention around.

Now he lifts his head the tear tracks are evident, the redness of his eyes would have given him away regardless, the smudges on his cheeks seem to have come from wiping his eyes with bloodied knuckles.

“Who came off worse, you or the wall?” she asks him with a half-smile.

V sniffs loudly and just manages to look her in the eye, “Wall’s fucked, serves it right.”

Although now smiling, V is clearly very troubled, the smile only serving to make him look somewhat unhinged.

“Wanna talk about it?”

A non-committal shrug seems to be the best she’s going to get for now.

-

V had been is a stormy mood for the best part of a week, at first Kerry had tried to talk him around and get to the bottom of it, but he was being met with a brick wall every time and if he’s honest he has other shit going on that demands his attention so he’d reluctantly backed off and waited for whatever this was to burn itself out.

Louise is after more cash, holding the kids to ransom once again. Even though they’re grown she still has complete control, how had he not noticed what a controlling bitch she was until it was too late? Kerry is hunched over the laptop in V’s office trying to compose an email with the right balance of ‘Stop being a cunt’ and ‘Get fucked’ when the ex-merc storms in and swings Kerry’s chair around to face him, only just stopping short of giving the other man whiplash.

“Where the fuck are you going?” he spits indicating the overnight bag which Kerry has placed on the floor next to the elevator.

Kerry is taken aback but tries to keep his tone light, “I’ve got a two-day promo thing in Texas, I reminded you yesterday and it’s been on the calendar for weeks.”

“You’re leaving? Now? You can’t be fucking serious.” V has now taken to wildly gesticulating and pacing the room. “You can’t leave now.”

It was pleading more than threatening, but Kerry is still concerned. “I’ve got to babe, but I’ll be back Friday. We’ll go somewhere fancy for dinner when I get back, how ‘bout that?”

“You think throwing your cash around in an over-priced shithole is going to make this better? Fuck you Kerry, you have no idea what I’m going through, you’ve hardly even spoken to me in days.”

“I’ve tried talking to you and it’s hardly my fault that you never check the fucking calendar. Maybe a couple of days apart will do us good.”

Kerry is as stunned as V is when the words spill out of his mouth. The anger and hurt in V’s simmering gaze is more than Kerry can bear, but before he can try to explain or apologise the other man has stormed back through the door and Kerry winces on behalf of the lounge wall that has just been tastefully redesigned by V’s formidable fists. He sits with his fingers woven together and his head bowed for several minutes until the soft hiss of the elevator doors opening indicates that he is alone in the apartment and he goes to survey the damage.

-

That was yesterday morning, since then V has been going from bar to bar, getting into trouble and fitfully sleeping in a doorway, he can’t remember a lot of it, but as the anger receded and a deep sadness began to set in, he knew he needed to be here on the rooftop, alone with his thoughts. He finds some comfort in this place, feels close to Jackie and to Johnny, he talks out loud to them sometimes even though they’re gone, but he’s pleased that Misty is here now, his thoughts were getting darker and he was struggling to work up the enthusiasm to leave at all.

Misty moves to the other chair and hooks V’s pinky finger with her own sitting quietly looking out over the City and letting him get it all out in his own time. He tells her about the argument, about being hurt by what Kerry said, about being in a dark place right now and not feeling supported and she listens, nods and tightens the grip on his finger.

“Why do you think Kerry said what he said V?” Misty asks.

V bites back his first reaction and thinks for a moment before answering, “I’ve been a bit of a dick I guess, kicking off at the smallest things, chewing his ear off while he’s trying to work. No one else understands though, what it’s like to…” V stops and sighs.

“…be without Johnny?”

“Yeah, I guess. But he’s given up on me, just left me to work through it by myself, thing is I’m not sure I can.” V gazes sadly out over Night City, neon blurred by the tears returning to his eyes.

Misty puts her hand on his arm and turns to look him in the eye. “It’s a lot, what you went through, you’re struggling and that’s fine, but Kerry’s struggling too. He’s got his own demons, now he’s got yours as well, he’s doing his best but he’s out of his depth. There’s no shame in talking to a professional, someone who can unpick what you went through and set you back on a more positive path.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, but he was going to leave, today of all days he was going to leave me by myself and fuck off to Texas.”

“Does he know why today is important to you?” Misty has half guessed why, but needs V to confirm her suspicions.

“He should!”

“Now V that’s not what I asked…”

“OK, maybe not, but he should.”

-

Last year around this time V’s mood swings had been put down to the medication he was on, they were still changing it up every week trying to offset the side effects which seemed to manifest daily. He and Kerry hadn’t spent a more than a few moments apart since he came back, as soon as the shuttle landed, he’d been whisked to a room in a private facility with twin beds – which were quickly pushed together – and all the comforts of home.

A few weeks later they were back at the condo, Kerry still catering to V’s every whim, so grateful to have him back, but also feeling stretched beyond what he could easily cope with. Things began to slowly improve, Kerry could work while V was at physio or training, but he’d promised the universe that he’d always be here for V if it brought him back to him, and he was keeping that promise.

V said little about his time on the space-station, had all but blocked it out as far as Kerry could tell, but he would talk for hours about Johnny, the stuff he used to say about people, the memories he shared, how much he missed having him around. Kerry would listen attentively, much of what V told him was exactly how he remembered his old friend to be, irreverent, charming and a pain in the ass, the difference was, Kerry didn’t miss him, not anymore. Years of therapy had started the process, but meeting him again confirmed it, Johnny was his past and that’s where he could stay, V was his future.

This time two years ago, V had just sold his soul and was in an Arasaka funded facility orbiting the globe about to be ‘cured’ of his brain-parasite. He’d disappeared from the condo days before making up some excuse about a job, which Kerry had not believed as V has been too sick to work for weeks, and wasn’t heard of again until months later when he could finally get a call through and Kerry had saved him. What happened in those intervening weeks was a mystery to Kerry, some of it was a mystery to V.

Misty had correctly guessed that two years ago today Johnny had effectively died, and with him a piece of V was gone too. He would never be the same, but there was nothing stopping him being proud of the new, successful, generally happy and loved person he had become, and Misty told him so.

“I bet Johnny would be proud of how you’ve done, I am for sure.”

“Thanks Misty, Johnny would prolly call me a pussy and cuss me out for shouting at Kerry, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You know you need to find someone to talk to V, a professional, someone who can help.”

“Uh-huh, Kerry knows someone, keeps trying to palm me off onto him, maybe I’ll let him.”

“Good idea, and Vik and me are always here for you, you know that.”

V had been eternally grateful when Misty had finally forgiven him for helping Haniko, once she understood he didn’t feel like he had a choice she eventually came around.

“I know Misty, thanks.”

“And I think you’ve got some apologising to do.”

V nodded slowly, “Yeah, I need to explain everything to Kerry, he’s the best thing that ever happened to me but he’s not a fucking mind-reader. As soon as he gets back from Texas tomorrow, we’ll sit and talk – if he’s even still talking to me.”

“I am, just,” a honey-soaked gravel voice declares from the direction of the elevator, “though I’d be happier if you answered your fucking phone and didn’t make holes in our walls.”

V’s head whips around rendering him momentarily nauseous, Misty heads towards the open doors clutching at Kerry’s hand as she passes, he takes up her vacated spot and puts a hand on his input’s knee, searching his eyes.

“I…I thought you were in Texas.” V stammers covering Kerry’s hand with his own.

“And leave you like this? Texas will still be there next month, fuck em!”

They both chuckle and move to rest their foreheads together, “How’d you find me?”

“Gave you a couple of hours yesterday before calling, you didn’t fucking answer, called again, no fucking answer, called Vik, hadn’t seen you, called Mama Welles, hadn’t seen you, called Misty, she called you, you didn’t fucking answer…”

“OK I get it, I’m a dick. I put my calls on mute, couldn’t deal with it all. So, Misty called you today then?”

“Actually no, Vik did. Saw Misty pass as he was locking up and guessed where she was going.”

“Oh, right, listen Ker I need to explain…”

“All you need right now is a rest and a very long shower, anything else can wait til after. Did it help coming up here?”

“Yeah, yeah it did.”

“Good, that’s all that matters for now, let’s go home.”

[mysynthfetish]

Rumble of Ancient Times 18650 Mod

So first this happened...

Feckin went and caught covid again, this time I guess it was the latest strain. Walk in the park compared to when I caught the Omicron variant, that sucked balls. But I had a high fever that lasted for four and a half freakin days, peaking at 39.9ºC, that would go down to 38ºC when I took the fever reducer meds, then shoot right back up to over 39º once the meds stopped working. It's already almost two weeks later and I'm still wrecked, feel like I've been steamrollered. Oof. But before that was going on I obtained this:

The Rumble of Ancient Times. But hold on a sec, something looks different, and not just the groovy colored knob caps from Thonk (those are the shit by the way, they work on the Aira compact and Korg Volca series too). What's that peeking out at the lower left? A USB-C PORT? What mischief is this?! Mwuhahahaha. Yeah so originally it's powered by four triple-A batteries in a holder that has no lid, just exposed to the elements on the bottom side, and I dunno, something about that didn't sit well with me. I was thinking I could power it off a small USB-C smartphone battery brick, but no matter what I did I couldn't get it to power on, then I remembered that those only put out +5V, d'oh! So I had a peep around Jamazon, and found this:

SUPER feckin small thing, that. Like the size of my thumbnail plus a few mm. So what the thing is, is a Li-ion Li-po charger PLUS a step-up transformer in a wee package there. I think it will actually go all the way up to +24V. As it was, I soldered it up according to the diagram there on Jamazon, and after charging an 18650 successfully, feckin A right skippy this shit just might work man! I wired it up to a multimeter to test output voltage, then tweaked the wee trimmer to get +6V output. Then I jimmied the power leads onto the RoAT and crossed my fingers and said three Hail Satans and threw the switch and presto! it feckin worked! SO stoked. 18650s are cheap as balls, and this whole setup is taller but not so much larger than the original configuration, have a look:

I used rather thick 3M VHB super super extra strong double-sided tape to hold the two down, then obtained 25mm hexagonal brass M3 standoff leggiwegs and put it all together, as you can see in the photo second from top. Jamazon again. Well it's either them or order from Kyohritsu and pay almost the same amount but with Jamazon the stuff arrives the next day (or same day depending on the time I place the order). Anyway...

This is what it originally looked like. The battery holder is pretty sturdy and has a goddam good grip on the batteries but still... Hmmmm.

This is the schleprock special in place. I coulda trimmed the wiring a bit but at this point I was like let's just be done with this already. And the awesomesauceiest thing about it is NO NOISE from the battery. This is something that I was super worried about, given that I was going to power the thing with a non-standard power source, but in the end it all worked out fine and YAY ME! Oh I suppose I should mention cost. The batteries were the most expensive part at about ¥2000 for two, because I chose the made in Japan option. For five of the wee USB-C charging slash step up boards plus battery socket/holders it was ¥1399. So to me it felt like $34 even though the exchange rate is ridiculous and the yen is getting its arse beaten senseless right now. Feck. Yeah so if there's anyone out there with one of these thinking ya know I dunno about those batteries... this is an easy to do mod. I don't know how long the battery will hold out for between charges, but seeing as the circuit on the RoAT probably doesn't eat current, I imagine I could go a month or so between charges. This will also work with the flat 3.7V Li-Po batteries by the way. That would yield a lower profile and give a smaller overall device to mess with. Just have to watch out for the mAh value and make sure it's above 3000. Might mess with that in the future. Hmmmm. Something else I did...

Barely visible.. The LED frequency and the shutter speed were not playing nicely with each other. I changed out the Solo and Mute LEDs on a Korg Nanokontrol, to white and yellow respectively, just because. I got a 1010music blue box digital mixer and found out you can use class compliant USB control surfaces and was like well shit. So there you go. The LEDs were SMD but since getting that SMD desolderer thingy off AliExpress, doing work like this has become quite easy. It's still a pain to solder LEDs the size of dust motes though. Jeeezus those things are feckin small.

Hope all is well with you and yours.

[suna-reversed]

Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader 

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie,  or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness] 

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same. 

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin. 

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher, 

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself, 

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him” 

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about. 

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out. 

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string. 

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes. 

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’ 

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened. 

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse 

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face. 

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something, 

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt. 

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance. 

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing? 

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis. 

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting. 

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was  a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?” 

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

 - “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”- 

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far. 

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 01  —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Word Count : 4.3k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

The winter’s coldness is hardly enough for you to bear. Even though it’s just the beginning, Seoul is known to just go from season to season without a fucking warning. Not only that, but the first snowfall is going to come soon. The weatherman has been talking about it non-stop for the past few days. It’s going to be a brutal one he says but he says that every year so why believe?

Turning off your alarm, you take a few minutes to collect yourself and stretch. Barely any sleep once again but that’s an everyday thing now.. without Jimin. It’s been some rough months not having his body wrapped snugly onto yours. These days you long for his touch, but completely dread at the same time for very good reasons.

Your kitten greets you with small licks on your thigh in which in return you pet her head softly with a smile.

‘‘ At least I still have you babygirl. You keep me company. “ You coo softly while grabbing your phone off the charger. Texts from your best-friend just spamming you with love and apparently she’s coming over. Great. That’s normal.  But one text catches your eye. Jeon Jungkook.

You furrow your eyebrows as your finger slides to open it after typing in your password. In relief, he’s just checking up on you as always. Rolling your eyes, you muster enough strength to actually pull yourself out of bed. The cold tiles hit your feet like icicles. You jump from from foot to foot cursing yourself for not turning on the floor heaters as you walk out the room. Clara, your kitten, follows you out purring nonchalantly with a few meows here and there.

‘’ Alright Clara I hear you. Im getting your food now.’’ You chuckle, grabbing her food from the bottom kitchen cabinet right under the sink and pour her half a cup of cat food and a whole bowl of water.

After snacking on your morning granola bar you prepare yourself for your morning routine. Shower, brush teeth, skin care, get dressed, clean. Your phone dings once more just before stripping yourself of your clothes. You don’t bother to look it’s probably just a social media notification.

Drying your hair with a towel as you get out the steaming hot shower, you head straight for the mirror. Dark circles remain under your eyes from months of barely any sleep. You sigh, and gently rub under them. Jimin is the cause of this. Why would he do this to you. Surely enough he would not like to see you like this at all. The worriedness he would have over you is huge. But he has moved on and you just have to accept it no matter how in-love you still are with him.

As you clean up around the living room, another ding from your phone occurs. A groan escapes your lips as you place the pillows back as they should be. In hopes of it just being your manager giving you some good news, you let out a sigh and plop yourself down on the grey suede couch. Three new messages. Jeon Jungkook, who has text you twice, and Ryan your bestfriend. 

‘‘ Damn it Ryan why must you consistently text me twenty four sev- “

“ Beause I need to know if you’re okay.”

You jump and drop your phone onto the hardwood floor from the voice that comes from around you.

“ Holy fucking shit you scared me! “  You whine, turning around to face your best-friend. She smiles and holds out her arms for a hug. You roll your eyes and open yours waiting for her embrace.

“ Oh i’ve missed you so so so so so so so-”

“ You just seen me yesterday..” Your voice sarcastic and bland as you let go of her. You sit on the couch first followed by Ryan sitting right next to you.

She looks good today, the navy blue coat she has on suits her very well. Although, you cannot figure out why she decided to wear leggings today. It’s going to rain a bit later but you disregard that seeing as though she’s the fashion deisgner and not you.

You. The model and seemingly ex girlfriend of one of the biggest solo idol in the world right now. Thats what they call you in the news, headlines in magazines, and real life as if you don’t have a real name and just was his acessory. Your modeling career had taken off way before dating him. The world, or Seoul to say the most, didn’t acklowledge you to that point yet. 

“ Okay but still. You know we should be roomates. It’ll be easier for me to watch over you. “

Your head turns towards her quickly shaking no, “ I don’t need to be looked over im 20 years old.”

Silence takes place for the next few seconds. You know what she’s going to say next but pray she doesn’t. Those words will just make you even more upset. It’s already enough you have that constant reminder in your head. 

You watch her fiddle with the rings on her index and pinky fingers. “ But you know… you haven’t been the same since you and Jimi-”

“ Don’t fucking say it. I don’t want to hear it.”

She sighs harshly and stands up, “ Im just worried about you Yn”

“ Don’t be. Im fine. “ That lie escaped your tongue way too easily. 

Truthfully you haven’t and won’t be fine. Everyday there is something new about that girl and Jimin on twitter. Gossip pages, twitter fanpages, and online entertainment pages just always talking about them. They did this, they did that today. Oh we caught them going to this and that restaurant. That used to be you and him.. but now everyone has forgotten about you and focused on them.

Ever since you’ve told reporters and paparazzi repeatedly that you will not be holding or going to any interview they just stopped. A few calls here and there to your manager about scheduling one but she knew you didn’t want to do them so every request is denied. Although its been a year and some change, they still seem to want your side and your opinion to weigh in on. I guess that’s what happens when you date an Idol.

“ The door.. Y/N the door somebody is at the door.” Ryan says, tapping you over and over. You shake your head interrupting your thoughts for the time being. A few more knocks come through.

Finally up onto your feet you harshly walk to the door with each step making noise. It’s to early in the morning for someone to actually be knocking at the door right now. Whoever it is better be dropping off some sort of package, or they’ll surely get a piece of your mind.

Your frail hands grab onto the doorknob and swing it open. Your eyes almost pop through your sockets. How? How did he know you were here? You certainly did not tell him your knew address.

There he stands, his tall frame looking down on you. Lips formed into a tiny pout along with his eyebrows scrunched slightly. His brown eyes forming an ungodly stare into yours with his specs on.

“ Yn! Do you know how worried I was about you? Why did you not answer my messa-”

“Jungkook how do you know where I live?” You pace your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow at him. To your knowledge, you never gave Jungkook your new apartment address.

Jungkook swallows slowly and puts on his best innocent face on. Oh please like that would work in this moment right now. The only person who has this address is Ryan because she’s the one who helped you move. Even if you had the choice of not giving it out to Ryan you would of but you couldn’t do that to her. She would of been so upset.

Ryan’s voice blares in the background full of excitement. Here we fucking go. “Jungkook! Come in Come in.”

“ Ryan says I could come in.” He says quickly, brushing past you and removing his shoes.

You heavily sigh and slam the door shut. What is this a family reunion? On your way back to the couch you notice them laughing and giggling like two five year old children. They don’t even notice you when you sit right across from them.

You study their expressions. Their chemistry is something so strong. The way their eyes light up when they meet, the way that Jungkook smiles and scrunches his nose more often when she’s around. You miss that. You miss doing that.

“ So are you both coming along this afternoon?”

Your attention focuses back on them. Of course you weren’t paying attention once again.

Your eyes slowly meet with theirs, “ Huh? Where are we going?”

“ Kookie finally bought a house! He wants us to come tonight for chicken and beer. You’re coming right?”

A sharp pain goes through your heart. If the both you you guys go then theirs a possibility that Jimin was invited too. After all, that is his brother. If Jimin comes then he’s most likely going to bring Isabel. A recipe for disaster. Your poor heart, that most likely could not bare the sight of them infront of you, would shatter into a million pieces.

Jungkook’s expression is ready to burst into happiness or to turn into a pout awaiting for your answer. If you let him down he’ll surely be mad at you. But putting yourself before him this time would be the right thing to do right?

“ Listen Jungkook I.. don’t think I can go.” You start off, playing with your hair with your head down.

“ I’ll space you two apart.”

Your face automatically lifts itself up in shock. Somehow, that little confirmation of Jimin being there, gave you some hope. Hope for what though?

 “ Wha-what do you mean?”

Jungkook sighs heavily with his hand going up to his brown hair running it through lightly. “ I’ll make sure you two are distanced apart. You don’t want to come because of Jimin but I’ll make sure I’ll invite more people to keep you company and away from him. Okay?”

“ Please Yn. I’ll be there too.” Ryan begs, laying her head on Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook smiles a little, caressing her cheek with his other hand upon waiting your response.

Weird. When did they get so close?

The first thing you want to say is that you really could not go. But they already know the excuse now. You might as well just give in.

‘‘ Fine. What time tonight? “

Skincare and makeup products are scattered everywhere on your vanity. You needed the perfect look for tonight that says ‘Yes im doing fine without you’, but in reality you’re doing worse. This is the night where you’ll actually see him. Damn it’s been a while.

After you apply your highlight you step back and take a look at yourself. Not bad at all. You smile to yourself and start cleaning up the mess of products you had  distributed across the vanity. A new text appears on you phone as soon as you gather everything up and put it back in it’s place. Grabbing your phone, it’s Ryan giving you the address to Jungkook’s new house.

You sigh and mentally prepare yourself, ‘‘ Okay Yn. You can do this. It’s just one night of conversing among people. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone new.”

Before heading out you grab your coat and scarf. Clara follows you all the way to the door letting out her little meows once again. You bend down to pet her head lightly with a smile. “ Clara im coming back. I’ve put food in your bowl babygirl.”

She purrs under your touch then walks away to settle herself in her bed. You take one last final look at your decent sized apartment before heading out.

The subway ride was agonizing pain for you due to it being 30 minutes long. Well, at-least you can ride the subway now. Your mind wouldn’t even of thought of that when you were with him. Everybody would have noticed you and bombard you with questions.

The outskirts of Seoul is peaceful and quite. Not many people live over here. Mostly famous actors and idols. The taxi takes a few minutes to get to the fairly clean subway station. Once you’re inside you take a good look at the driver who seems to be eyeing you in suspicion. You pull out your phone and read the words to the address exactly to him. The taxi man pulls of into the empty streets of god knows where.

All it took was a ten minute ride and then you’re there. The taxi man pulls up to a security guard booth. Just beyond the gates is more street but  by squinting your eyes you can make out just a few newly built houses.

‘‘ Who are you here to see?” The taxi driver says.

“ Jeon Jungkook.?

The driver talks to the man for a few seconds before you see the security guard pick up a phone and start dialing. The security is extremely uptight, thats good. After a few moments of speaking the security guard finally opens the gates to be let through.

As you pull up to the house you’re automatically mesmerized on how big and beautiful it is. There’s fresh bushes and some white roses growing in the front of it complementing the white modern style home. The roundabout is full of luxurious cars, in which might be all the other guests.

‘‘ 10 dollars’‘ He says. You give him the ten, thank him, and grab your purse, closing the door behind you.

Your eyes meet face to face with the expensive house. Behind you is the tire wheels backing up and running off back down the roundabout. The time on your watch reads 8:15. Only fifteen minutes late, not bad right?

With each step you take fear quivers inside of you. What if he opens the door? What if that girl opens it instead? The wind blows harsh-fully hitting your cheeks making them turn slightly colored. You raise a small, shaky fist to knock on the door. Your blood turning cold, and face turning pale already. Your anxiety already taking its place inside of your body.

The door swings open revealing Ryan smiling from ear to ear. She pulls you inside without even a greeting. You kick your shoes off in a hurry as she pulls you more and more inside. Scanning the area around you, its a nice huge place. First the both of you pass the entrance, then the chef sized kitchen, which then leads you to the spacious living room where everybody seems to be sitting.

All eyes are on you now with some familiar faces and some not. They smile and greet you one by one and you slightly bow your head with a fake smile.

‘‘ Ah Yn, nice to see you again huh.’‘ Hoseok, the smiley one says, getting up from his seat to greet you once more.

‘‘ Nice to see you to Hoseok. Is Chae-Yeon here? I’ve baked the cookies she likes.’’  You say, holding up the big tuba-wear of freshly baked cookies. Nobody can resist those.

‘‘ No she had to work sadly, but I will enjoy them for her.’‘ He chuckles, bringing the tuba-wear out of your dainty, cold hands.

A very familiar voice booms from behind you causing you to turn around. “ Yn! You actually did come!’’ Jungkook, the owner of the voice exclaims. He wipes his hands with a napkin just before pulling you into a hug.You pat his back just before letting go.

Ryan smiles and shakes her head, “ I told you she would come.’’

Only one hour and 30 minutes into the festivities and half of the people here are drunk or nearly there. You on the other hand do not drink at all. Staying sober throughout this whole party is a must. Who knows what would happen if you start drinking and saying things.Ryan seems to be doing good with Jungkook who’s laying on the floor laughing and cracking jokes with her head laying on his stomach giggling along with him. The others have casually invited themselves into the guest game-room to play some pool.

You just sit there on the couch, munching on a cookie and smiling and laughing here and there at one of Seokjin and Jungkook’s back-to-back jokes that seem to never leave the air.

Only for a knock on the door to interrupt  their flow of jokes.

‘‘ I got it I got it.” Seokjin stammers, placing a beer bottle down and stumbling towards the door. You freeze, face turning pale once more. It’s them. It could be them. Your teeth find their way to your lips and you begin to chew on it excessively.

Ryan notices it and automatically gets up from Jungkook, ‘‘ Come Yn, lets go see if the game of pool is interesting.’‘

You nod your head slightly as you get up from the couch. What are you worrying for? You look extravagant tonight. No need to worry yourself.

Just before taking your first few steps you stop, that voice. That oh so familiar voice begins to inch closer and closer. The famous laugh that he always tries to stifle by putting his hand over his mouth, that you’ve always thought was so fucking cute, fills the air.

You don’t know what got over you, but you sit back down dragging Ryan down with you. “ Yn? What are you doing I thought you wanted to avoid him.’’

‘’ No it’s okay. Im going to be fine.’‘ You say, awaiting upon his arrival into the room.

The footsteps are haunting you with each step they take.

one..two..three..four..five..si-

‘‘ Everyone, Isabel and Jimin are here.’‘ Seokjin stammers, smiling wide clearly drunk from all the beer consumed.

Your eyes go directly towards his. The pit of your stomach flutters with nervousness as you hold the long stare with him. His facial expression shocked but not showing it at all. His partner, who’s arm is linked with his, smiles brightly at everyone bowing her head slightly to them including you.

‘‘ Sorry we are late. Jimin didn’t want to come out of his home studio but I’ve made him come along with me.’‘ Her voice gentle and soft.

‘‘ Yn I forgot let me show you my new painting i have received.” Jungkook says quickly, trying to escape you from the awkwardness.You can bare it though its not as bad as you thought.

‘‘ Maybe later Kookie. I’m going to grab some juice.”  You say, getting up from your spot. You brush past Jimin lightly with Ryan tailing along with you.

The spacious kitchen was perfect for you to escape for just a moment. Silence is golden. Ryan sighs, pouring you and her a glass of juice. Nothing is to be said yet. But you know she really wants to have her input.

Raising the glass to your lips, you take a sip letting the tanginess run across your tongue and down your throat. ‘’ Say it Ryan.’’

She puts her cup down and looks at you with your eyebrows furrowed, ‘’ You aren’t fine. Please just avoid them for the night.’’

You knew it was coming but you have to face the fact that they area couple anyways so why avoid it? Maybe your mind will finally accept it to see it in person.

‘‘ I have to face it one way or another so why not now?’‘

She shakes her head in disapproval, finishing the rest of her juice. “ No you don’t. You’re making yourself suffer and I don’t like it.’’

‘‘ Yn.. did you make these cookies?’‘ A voice says behind you. Ryan’s eyes go wide and then looks at you signaling for you to not turn around. But you do it anyways.

Isabel. How dare she call you by a pet name? You don’t even know her like that and she’s doing this. Anger wants to get the best of you but you remain humble and calm.

‘‘ Yes. Is there a problem though? Are they not good?’‘ You say, putting on your best innocent act.

She smiles as she moves a piece of hair of her perfectly framed face, ‘’ No they are great! I was wondering if i can have the recipe.. for Jimin’s purpose of course.’’

You breathe through your nostrils with your eyes closed. She knows what she’s doing. She likes seeing you suffer huh? ‘’ You can follow any recipe online. I just add almond extract and substitute white sugar for brown.’’

Ryan shakes her head slightly while sticking her cup into the sink. ‘’ I’m going to be back I have to use the restroom.’’

Once she leaves Isabel’s smile drops.’’ Almond? Im- Im allergic!” She says, semi yelling at you. You’re shocked more or so at the sudden outburst that you can’t speak. You had zero knowledge of her being allergic, it’s an accident for sure.

 “You did this on purpose!’’ She says, tears filling her eyes as she goes into a coughing fit.

Shit. You didn’t know if anyone was allergic to nuts here but you had put it in anyways because that was the secret ingredient

‘’ I- I didn’t know im sorry is there anything I can do?’’ You say, guilt taking over you while you rush to her side patting her back. 

‘‘ Get off of me! You did this on purpose! You never liked me anyways. Jimin! Jimin!‘ She scream’s, coughing and wheezing making her face red.

Multiple footsteps rush into the kitchen. You don’t know what to do at this point so you just back away and let whoever take over. All the commotion going on and yelling is starting to give you a slight headache. All of the boys surround her, bombarding with questions and asking each other what to do. 

‘‘ What’s all the yelling about? What happened! “ Jungkook exclaims rushing towards her hunched over body.

‘‘ What’s going on? “ That voice that haunts you everynight finally comes inside the kitchen. When he see’s Isabel he automatically rushes towards her side. It pains you to see him rush to another woman’s body. But that figure is no longer yours so he has every right to do that.

‘‘ She-She put almond in the cookies on purpose! She’s trying to–to-’‘ She manages to wheeze out before another coughing fit.

Jimin’s eyes meet yours full of rage but then taken over by concern. He knows your hurt. Still hurt from the past and from this very situation now. You don’t manage to keep eye contact, so the floor is your eyes’ bestfriend right now.

‘‘ Yn. is this true? Why would you do that?”  He says, eyes never leaving yours and voice soft.

You shake your head quickly, “ I didn’t know she was allergic. I always put almond extract an-’’

“ You knew better than to put any type or form of nut in a dish when bringing it to ones house. You never know if someone has an allergy to it.’‘ Jungkook scolds you, eyes furrowed in shame.

‘‘ Don’t blame her. She didn’t fucking know.” Ryan’s voice enters the room in madness. She comes to your side with her arms crossed. Your own personal savior. Without her, you’d still be feeling guilty and taking the blame.

‘‘ Besides, you knew better than to invite him if you knew he was going to bring the girl he cheated on her with.. right?’‘ She says, cocking her head to the side as her attitude takes over.

The room is silent again. Good girl Ryan. 

Isabel lifts her head in disbelief along with Jimin. “ Listen that’s beside the point. Just don’t do it again.” Jimin says, focusing his attention back on Isabel. He reaches into her purse to grab her Epi-pen.

His scolding is enough to send your eyes into tears. You shouldn’t of agreed to come. This is a disaster. You take the tuba-wear of cookies from the counter on your way out of the kitchen and dispose of them. Your vision is blurry and you don’t know where your going but you just need some air. You make lefts and rights down long and short hallways till you reach a room that has a balcony.

You slip on who-ever’s house slippers and open the sliding door revealing the winter’s cold harsh air. You lean on the railing and close your eyes breathe in and out heavily.

Wiping the tears away, You open our eyes and look straight ahead. The whole city is lit up such a beautiful view for a sad moment. The sad moment is cut short by the sliding door opening and closing. You don’t bother to turn around it’s probably just Ryan checking on you again. When are people going to stop doing that?

“ Yn.”

Thats the last voice you wanted to hear.

‘‘ Are you happy? Happy for scolding me infront of everybody.”  You sniffle, wiping away your leaking nose.

You hear some rustling before something is placed on your shoulders. You look down at the material and shrug it off of you.

‘‘ Give it to your girlfriend.”

‘‘ I can’t let you be cold. Put it back on.’‘ He sighs, picking it back up and coming closer to you. You both stand side by side. Jimin puts his jacket around you once more and before you could re-do your action just before, he speaks.

‘‘ Shrug it off again and I’ll scold you. Do you understand?’‘ He says firmly.

You don’t bother to speak. Silence is golden.

‘‘ Listen.. i know you still aren’t over the fact that we are through but-”

‘‘ Shut up. I don’t want to hear it. Please go tend to your dying girlfriend.’‘ You say, sarcastically.

He huffs, “ She’s resting right now. She wouldn’t have to be if you wouldn’t of put-’’

You turn towards him slowly and meet his eyes daring for him to finish the rest of his sentence. ‘’ Don’t you fucking dare Park Jimin.’’

‘‘ Honorifics.’‘ He says, slightly looking down at you due to the height difference.

‘‘ You’re right Jimin-ssi.’‘

Jimin’s expression is taken a-back. You knew that one honorific word would hurt him.

‘‘ If we are done speaking I will take my leave now.” You say, eyes never leaving his as you take off his jacket and toss it to him, leaving him outside in the cold

This night was one of your worst mistakes. You thought you could handle it, but couldn’t. So maybe Ryan and Jungkook were right. Maybe you can’t handle it at all..

[mellowswriting]

I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466 

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable 

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

Main Masterlist  |   Join the taglist!

Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must’ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

“Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I’ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @i-ship-it-ironically @artsymaddie @mrsparknuts @wyn-dixie @notabotiswear @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @lemonlime09 @la-lunaluna @andruxx @greeneyedblondie44 @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @paintballkid711 @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @xgoldenjenny @mummifymecaptain @cjbtw @a-skov @himbotroy @xjsteph @marvelousmermaid @over300books @castleamc @darnitdraco @janebby @cannedsoupsucks @itssmashedavo @mtjoi @triggerhappyflygirl 

[bump1nthen1ght]

I’m Still Hurting (Orc x Reader) Part 2

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2107 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend establish a new normal

A/N: At long last, the highly requested part two! I had a bit of struggle coming up with a proper followup to the first part (which was part of why I left it with an open-ended ending in the first place lol). Little less angst this time, I felt these two deserved a little sweetness after the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

Part 1

The first thing that caught your eye when you walked by the music store was the Grand Piano. It was gorgeous: Polished mahogany, a nice velvet seat, and keys that looked like they had never seen the sticky fingers of a curious 8 year old.

“Wow, is that new?”

You nod, admiring the old-fashioned air of the instrument. You knew jack shit about music, but even you could tell that this piano was an antique, one probably worth a good chunk of change.

“Must be. I’ve never seen it before and this place is on my way to work.”

Waruck hmms, pressing his hands up against the glass. His eyes sparkle when he sees the “Free to Play” sign right next to the piano. It probably reminds him of his Grandpa’s, the one he played when you guys visited his family for Christmas.

That was a long time ago.

“Want to go in?”

Waruck pulls away from the glass, eyebrows raised. He rubs the back of his neck and steps a couple feet back, trying to curb his enthusiasm.

“Uh, we don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind. It's been a while-” You pause, the slight-anxiety in the air making every casual word difficult, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play.”

Waruck smiles, small and polite, and opens the door of the shop for you. Before, he might have done a little bow and said “Ladies First” in a British accent.

But that was before, and this is now. Now, every comment is walking on eggshells, whispered tentatively and under your breath. Testing the waters for how comfortable you two could get around each other.

Still, it was exponential growth from two months ago.

--------

After your meeting at the coffee shop, you had asked Waruck for a month; A month of privacy, for you to collect your thoughts and feelings, to be alone for a bit. He had agreed immediately, shuffling out of the cafe with a hunched back and a melancholy air, but he had kept his promise. You took the time to focus on other things, shifting your relationship to the back of your mind and enjoying the day-to-day.

But a part of you felt a little bad, like maybe you were stringing Waruck along for an inevitable breakup. Getting his hopes up for an extra tortuous punishment that left a sour taste in your mouth. So on one brave Saturday night, you sent him a meme you saw on Instagram, one that reminded you of him.

That second month saw the two of you texting more and more frequently, sending little jokes, asking how your day was, so and so. Each week rebuilt a little bit more of that familiarity, that comfortableness. It finally got to the point where Waruck asked if you were free one weekend. He just wanted to get some lunch and stroll around the neighborhood for a bit. For the first time in a while, that idea didn’t seem too bad.

--------

The air is considerably cooler inside the store, a tiny bell ringing as a rush of air-conditioned air hits both of you. Waruck makes a beeline for the piano, his footsteps short and quick. You feel a smile crawl on your face; He always acted like an excited kid when it came to music.

Waruck plops down in the center of the stool, fingers lightly brushing over the keys in awe. You walk up the piano’s side, laying your hand on the wood and admiring the lack of smudge marks on the polished wood. Waruck tests out a G note and although the sound is short, it’s extremely pleasant. Waruck’s smile grows even larger.

“When I was a young boy…”

You mutter under your breath. Waruck chuckles, quickly continuing onto a G flat.

“My father took me into the city,” Waruck hums

“To see a marching band.” The two of you sing together, laughing a little bit too loudly and gaining a sharp look from the tired sales clerk. Waruck waves a little apology, but that playful grin stays on his face.

“Wow, that brings back some repressed Hot Topic memories.”

“Seriously. I can almost feel the book my band teacher used to thwack me with. Me and my buddies would sneak into the choir room and play that all the time.” Waruck’s fingers dance over a couple more notes, aimless.

You’ve always liked watching Waruck play. His fingers were so dextrous and controlled,  not to mention long and nicely articulated. He’d probably make good money from a hand-model side-gig.

“Want to take a seat?”

You shift your focus away from Waruck’s hands. He’s made space on the bench and pats the open space next to him.

“Yeah, sure.” You say, despite the fast pace your heart is now beating.

You keep a solid two inches of distance between your bodies, keeping your thighs together as to not brush your legs with his. It felt like a middle school dance, keeping a bible length away from your partner to avoid the disapproving stare of the chaperones.

Waruck nods, absentmindedly running his fingers up the scale. “Any requests?”

Immediately, all non-love songs depart from your brain. One of your favorite pieces sits on the tip of your tongue and your brain refuses to let it go. You shake your head.

“Nope. It’s all yours, music man.”

Waruck chuckles, a little louder and a lot more comfortable, as he sits deeper in his seat.

“Prepare,” Waruck cracks his knuckles, “to be amazed.”

You bite back a laugh. He’s still such a dork.

He starts to play, his hands easily finding the right keys, moving like a well-oiled machine. Your heart nearly skips a beat before it melts into a puddle of sentiment.

It’s your favorite.

The song brings back memories of your childhood, a rainy day in, and delicious food. It’s like chicken soup for the soul and you can feel any of the left over tension leave your body.

Waruck’s eyebrows furrow with concentration, but he has a large smile on his face, his large tusks peeking out from his lips. His arm stretches across the piano as the song hits its most fast-paced part. His biceps and shoulders lean more into your space, but the feeling isn’t unwelcome. It feels natural, as if his presence and yours is part of the piece itself.

Waruck’s thigh brushes against yours, but his pace doesn’t falter and neither does yours. You stay enraptured, watching how easily he slips into the music. You barely even notice how you have begun to lean closer to his side; Your mind says it’s to give his arms plenty of space to play, but it’s still far more comfortable than you are willing to admit.

How easy it feels, in the moment, to fall back into routine.

The song begins slowing to a stop, only a couple seconds left, when the sounds of the music shop return to you. A giggle from not too far rings discordant with Waruck’s piano.

Three girls stand not too far from you, watching with fascination as Waruck plays.

“Wow, he is so good!” One whispers to her friends.

There is nothing even remotely lascivious in their eyes or in their words, but a knife still twists in your gut. Your throat constricts as flashes of your bedroom, of unanswered texts, and a picture of a bar corner booth send needles down your spine and into your heart.

Is this wrong? Is this giddy feeling you have only distracting you from reality? Is it like this song, Waruck’s playing, beautiful but temporary?

“Ugh, I want what they have.”

“I know, right? How romantic.”

They’re wrong, you’re wrong, this is wrong; It’s fake, fake, fa-

Your eyes dart to and fro, trying to desperately avoid Waruck’s quickly overwhelming body heat and your audience, before it catches on the distorted shape of your reflection in the window.

The glass is old, slightly drooping, even the golden lettering of the music shop’s name looks dusty and sun-bleached.

But what is unmistakable is you and Waruck. Waruck, playing piano, and looking at you. Looking at you with the love in his eyes you thought had died, or had never been there at all. The group of girls stands in the background, small and out of focus.

And Waruck is staring at you.

“Are you okay?” Waruck asks, his warm hand on your shoulder.

You whip your neck around, almost getting whiplash.

You’re here, in the music store, with your boyfriend. He looks at you, brow slightly puzzled from your wild eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I,” You suck in a deep breath, “Sorry, I guess I got lost in my own head. That song gets me kind of nostalgic.”

Waruck pats your shoulder and you miss it’s heat when he pulls it back to his side. He smiles, but you can tell he is still slightly worried.

“No problem, I get it.”

You notice now how much closer Waruck is to you. His chest has shifted towards yours, the fabric of his shirt sleeve pressing against the skin of your bicep. Waruck’s knee absentmindedly knocks into yours, but the contact doesn’t sting or jolt you. Not even the continuing silence makes the situation awkward.

It’s nice.

“Do you want to check out the record aisle? They might actually have that piece on vinyl.”

Waruck gestures with his thumb to the piles of CD’s and records not too far from you two. You nod

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

--------

The two of you spend about an hour in the music store, pointing out hilarious cover art and admiring some vintage finds. Waruck even gets you to chuckle a couple of times, slowly bringing out his old cheesy puns.

Waruck’s missed this.

You two walk out of the music store at the tail end of one of Waruck’s jokes, you playfully punching his shoulder.

The two of you wander, in the opposite direction of your cars, for a little while. But Waruck hasn’t lost track of time; No, he’s soaking in every moment he can, every smile and lingering look you give him. Every reminder that this is real.

He spent a week agonizing over what he did. Stuck in silence as he gave you your space. His friends (His real friends, not those assholes from the bar) had offered to come by and keep him company, but he turned it down.

When Waruck got back into routine, it was slow-rolling. It was difficult to fight the instinct to check his phone for a good-morning text, or check your Instagram for any ‘post-breakup’ partying.

No, he had already broken your trust once. The least he could do was give you some time. Spend some hour not wallowing in self-pity, but actively make a change.

Waruck began to accept those invites to a chill hang out, playing some poker and sipping on beer with the gang. He played his keyboard when the thoughts got too loud and went jogging when the music wasn’t loud enough. He called his mom a couple of times, even sent his sister a  couple of texts to catch up. They hadn’t spoken outside of holidays for almost three years.

Maybe he was the one that needed time.

God, why did you have to be so smart?

“Oh shit, how long have we been walking?” You mutter, checking your watch for the time. Waruck turns around you, already knowing the answer was 27 minutes, exactly. The both of you were nearing the edge of the neighborhood, cafes and shops turning into residential suburbs. “Dang, time really flies, huh?”

Waruck smiles.

“With you? It always does.”

You give him a half smile, patting his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re such a cheeseball.”

Waruck winks and shoots you some finger guns.

“You know it babe.”

You giggle, checking your watch once more, face turning just a little bit.

“I should probably head back, I’m getting dinner with some friends tonight.”

A small part of Waruck yearns for more time, but he lets it go.

Space, this was about establishing space.

“I had a lot of fun today, Waruck.” You step a little closer, Waruck’s heart skips a beat.

“Me too.” He whispers, his breath catching as your fingers brush against his.

It’s a simple gesture, one you’ve down a million times. But when your palm slips into his, your finger’s interlocking, it’s like fireworks have gone off.

“Same time, next week?”

Waruck nods, not trusting himself to speak without a voice crack.

That’s all he needed, all you wanted; The promise of the future.

“Yes, I would love that.”

[quirklessidiot]

title : cigarettes and parfaits [3] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, slice of life, josei, angst, comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT) i keep forgeting to add that this isnt beta-rread..all of my stories arent so yeah shshs Notes: ah, i feel like this story will be lengthen more than 8-10 chapters shshshs i wanted to add a little spice anyways thanks for all the comments uwu ily all!

Masterlist || taglist || [prev ; next] [updates; every saturday!]

“Y/N-chan!!!”

You cringe in embarrassment as soon as you hear that awfully familiar and cheerful voice, you could barely remember this man and the events that transpired the night before but here he was, acting like your new best friend. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to go here but you needed clarity. Surely you didn’t just legally marry a man at an Izakaya out of all places last night?

“Oh, you actually did marry him.” Gojo Satoru proclaims as soon as you take a seat across him, he gestures around his face, “I could tell by your whole, ‘I hope this guy is messing with me’ face. You have it, signed and sealed. Even got the cute matchy rings that I had one of my assistants delivered.”

You pale at the thought of his assistant coming in with a silver ring. Wasn’t he sober? How could he not have stopped you two from doing something as reckless and stupid as this? Weren’t older men supposed to be more responsible than this?

“Why the hell didn’t you stop us?” You groaned, burying your face in your hands, embarrassment painted all over your features.

“I was just as drunk as you two.” He confessed, scratching his head, “probably even more drunk but anyways back to the topic in hand, I only remembered it when the same assistant came in and congratulated me about it. It’s good I had your number on my phone before you two bailed.”

“So you don’t really remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” Gojo grinned, this guy was a maniac, how did the serious man you met just this morning have friends like this? You probably wouldn’t even last long, “I did call Nanami-”

He’s cut off by the rough sound of someone pulling a chair out, you immediately jump on your seat when you realize it’s Nanami Kento, the guy from this morning. The man you had recklessly married!

“This better be some prank you’re pulling, Satoru.” His voice was anything but kind that you almost wanted to hide behind Gojo’s back.

“Hey, hey.” Gojo raises his hands, “Don’t look at me. I didn’t force you into anything and stop scaring your poor little partner.”

Nanami snaps his gaze towards you and you notice how his eyes soften just a bit when he sees your red ears and your eyes looking away from him, “You better call Geto and fucking fix this, I refuse to bother this young-”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, still shy and red, “It’s...fine...I just…Please don’t think I’m burdened by it. It was technically my fault for even agreeing immediately.”

Nanami clenches his jaw and turns away, “Nevertheless. L/N-san’s young. I hope to not be such an uncouth man like you.” he retorts, voice sharp as he eyes the white-haired businessman up and down. Gojo, seemingly used to it, rolls his eyes behind his dark shades.

“Maybe you guys should try it out.”

The blonde man looks like he’s about to smite the white-haired man out of existence yet Satoru remains oblivious to his friend’s gaze, “Don’t ya think so? It will take a while for those divorce papers to settle in so why don’t you two go out and get to know each other? Who knows…” he sing-songs the last part and Nanami is so close to chunking his briefcase towards the tall businessman, not even caring 

“Ah, he’s not exactly wrong, Nanami-san.” you try to calm him down, placing a small hand on his broad shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually listening to this idiot’s idea.” Nanami replied, gaze narrowing.

“Not really but you have some problems I can help you out on and I have problems that you can help me out on...Of course, the last say is on you...”

“Told you I actually had a brain.” Satoru piped in.

“Shut up, Satoru.” he quips, then turns to you, “I’m thirteen years older than you, L/N-san. I have two high school kids that could pass off as your siblings, and-”

“Well, I technically did marry you.”

“You were drunk.”

“Doesn’t exactly really excuse it.” You laugh nervously, “The whole divorce process usually lasts up to a few months, some even takes a whole year. I could help you out with the boys and I can use you to ward my family off from moving back home.”

Nanami is quiet for a moment, actually thinking about it. Weighing the pros and the cons, not only would you be able to help him out but you’d also be able to get Gojo and blind-dating out of his back.

There really wasn’t anything he could loose, really.

“Or you two might fall in love.” Satoru teases, making Nanami throw him another side-eye, as if saying ‘I dare you to say another word.’

It’s a Thursday today and Sukuna absolutely loathed Thursdays     apparently because it reminded him of Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. They all were far from the weekend     Everyone seems to be happier than usual though. Maybe it was because you were there teaching some basic shit at the board or something.

“...and if we transfer this here and change the positive to a negative, you’ll end up having five as your answer.” You smile, placing your chalk down, “Does anyone have any questions?”

Echoes of no’s resonated throughout the room.

“Alright then, let’s end the lesson here so you guys can have an early lunch. I don’t think an assignment is in order since many of you were able to get a perfect score in the activity awhile ago.” You winked. A couple of whoops resonated throughout the whole class right after. 

As the kids shuffle out of the room of the class, Sukuna remains behind. The ojisan had cooked them something delicious this morning and he wanted to eat it in peace without that pesky Nobara grabbing a share from his bento and Yuuji’s annoying babbles about horror movies with his best friend Junpei (the only one who was really bearable was Megumi, really)

“Sukuna-kun?” you called out, snapping him out of his small trance,  “Are you alright?”

He notices a glint of worry in your eyes, he had to admit since his transfer here last Monday, you were the least annoying teacher in the academy     the blue-haired professor in Japanese literature was absolute shit since he loved to tease him a lot and that bald-headed teacher in science who looked a lot like Mike Wazowski was an annoying twerp who loved dawdling in him and Yuuji’s business     and you were kind of good at your job. Not only did his idiot of a brother stop coming to him and their ojisan for help in math but he could actually do the worksheets right and get an actual decent grade at it.

“Yeah.” he roughly replies.

“That’s good.” You smiled, he watched as you bind their worksheets together and clip them in utmost delicacy, “You should head to the cafeteria now, I heard they’re serving milk bread today.”

Without saying anything more, you left the room, leaving him there in the silence.

Well, the Christmas tree idiot was right.

You kind of had a motherly aura on you and it didn’t even look forced.

No wonder, everyone in this room was whipped for you despite your subject being a pain in the ass.

“You look like an idiot.” You mumbled as you slapped Mahito’s hand away in annoyance, your workmate wiggling his eyebrows like the little shit he is.

You completely forgot you did have someone like Gojo Satoru in your life and it was one of your co-workers, Mahito, a Japanese literature teacher who was too nosy for his own good.

“You’ve got a ring on your ring finger and a mailman comes in and gives you an invite for Zen’in Toji’s fortieth birthday.” he whistles, “Even Jogo-sensei gossiped by the water cooler awhile ago, saying that you had eloped with the man. Not that I’m judging you or anything...”

You choke on your saliva, clearly thrown off by the backhanded comment. That darn bald-headed fool that looked like the green eyed monster from the DreamWorks cartoon, he sure needed to lay off the gossip and actually focus on his job as the head of the science department, “You’re not denying it.” Mahito stated, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, “Why aren’t you denying it?”

“I’m not dating Megumi-kun’s father.” You grumbled, finishing up your paperwork, “That man is off limits.”

“Right,” he drawls on sarcastically, “...because you have a strict rule against dating hot older men with money.”

“I also teach his kids and his cousin…” You deadpan.

“We don’t even have a rule against that.” He retorts, rolling his eyes, “If we did, Hanami-sensei would’ve been fired a long time ago.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re so secretive. If it isn’t Toji Zen’in, who’d ask you out?”

“Hey, I do have a man.” You huffed, “and he’s very kind and considerate...”

The image of the tall and lean man sleeping next to you slowly wormed its way back from your memory and you feel your cheeks start to flush. Good god, what were you? twelve? How embarrassing.

You needed to get that image off of your head, it wasn’t right.

It was all temporary, anyways and he doesn’t even see you in that sort of way-

“Yes, I’m Sukuna and Yuuji Itadori’s guardian…” a very familiar stoic voice could be heard from the nearby table, cutting your thoughts short. Wait, were you so head over heels for the man that you started imagining him here? Yuuji and Sukuna’s guardian? Wait a minute.

All color drained from your face as you snap your head behind you to find the same man you were imagining.

Oh no.

Oh no, indeed.

There stood Nanami Kento in all his glory;  crisp suit, stoic face, and eyes laced with mild worry.

“...L/N-sensei is Sukuna-kun’s adviser, by the way. It would be best to discuss this with them.” Akari somberly informed the man, turning to your direction. You don’t miss the shift of expressions when he sees you standing there.

Your mouth parts and you know you look like gawking fish trapped in a small aquarium.

“Akari-sensei’s looking at you with the new hot daddy.” Mahito mumbles next to you, eyeing him up and down, “Definitely wonder where all these old men come from these days.”

You were only half-listening to your co-worker because your head was all over the place, just what were the odds that he was the guardian of the new transferee’s? Just how awkward would everything be? Why did it even have to be at this school out of all places?

Never ending questions pop out of your head as you approached them, “Good afternoon, Nanami-san.” Your smile comes out very stiff and awkward while you hold your hand out for him to shake, clearly there was no memo on how you were suppose to act around your sort-of-fake-husband-whos-kids-you-actually-taught.

Nanami reverts back to his stoic expression as he clears his throat, “Yes, good afternoon to you too, L/N-sensei.” he greets, maintaining a straight-laced tone.

“Akari-sensei says that Sukuna has been quite...rude...in class…” you try to rack your brains up to describe his kid.

“Your son literally pointed out that the history lesson I was teaching was fake and that I should study again so he could get his tuition’s worth.” Akari looks clearly perplexed and ready to throttle the boy if it was legal. You had to admit, Sukuna went overboard with that insult.

You knew how passionate Nitta was about her job and what Sukuna just said to her was like a big ‘fuck you, you suck.’ to her.

“I’ll be sure to talk to him about this,” he sighs, bowing down, “I’d like to ask for forgiveness for that, the boy is a good and smart student-”

“Nanami-san, the school not only cares about grades but character as well.” Akari Nitta sighed, cutting him off, “I’ll let this slide once, if he does that again, it goes on the record.”

You internally bit your cheek, still trying to process everything that was going on.

“I understand. Thank you for that.”

“I’ll walk him out, sensei.” You immediately say soon after, wanting to have some alone time with him, “Let’s go, Nanami-san.”

You walk right next to him silently, some students peerlessly glancing at the tall blonde next to you but you were too immersed in thought to notice the stares, “Nanami-san?” you ask softly as soon as you reach the exit.

Nanami Kento looks at you, his eyes still laced with a bit of worry, “It’s okay.” you silently comforted him, “Just talk to him calmly.”

“That’s not the problem.” he sighed, “I just didn’t expect that the person I married would be the boy’s teacher.”

You sweat drop, “Aren’t you worried about talking to Sukuna? I mean, he literally just disrespected a teacher and you said that he and you weren’t in good-”

“It’s easier to talk to him about that rather than…” he paused, showing his ring, “this.”

You blinked.

Seemed like Nanami knew what to say about the little attitude problem his son had, “So you must be used to this?” you asked, “Him disrespecting the teacher?”

You notice the shift of expressions on his face, you had only known this man for a few days so far but he was starting to get easier to read. His eyes shed more emotion than his face, no wonder he likes wearing those funny sunglasses a lot.

“It’s something I’ve scolded him over a couple of times,” he gruffed, trying to dance around the subject, it seemed like he had such a soft spot to the point where he had a problem with disciplining them, “At times I believe it’s just because he’s way too smart for his age. The boy has read history books for fun when he was a kid and solved quadratic equations to prove that he’s better than me when he was ten.”

“It still doesn’t give him the free pass to say things like that to a teacher”

“I know,” he acknowledged, “I’ll be sure to give him a better scolding-”

“No, you see. This is why he thinks he can get away with it. He isn’t afraid of you. You’ll only probably tell him that you can’t do that.” you frown, crossing your arms, “You do know that not all sensei’s are as nice as Akari-sensei and he could get in trouble for that even more in the future, right?”

Silence lingered between you two for a moment and suddenly you realize that you must’ve said something way off the rails.

“I..” you turn red, embarrassed by the sudden outburst, “That was too much, wasn’t it?”

You look at him directly in the eye, the worry-filled ones are now replaced with a softer gaze. God, he really needed to stop looking at you like a kid. It would only make this set-up more awkward!

“No,” he mumbles, “It...It wasn't too much…”

“Oh.” you cleared your throat, flustered and looking away from his face, “Well, okay then goodbye then Nanami-sa-”

You needed to get out of this conversation quick.

“Kento.”

Your gaze snaps directly towards him, clearly taken aback by the correction.

“What?”

“We’re technically married now, right?” he softly corrected, “Call me Kento.”

“Oh,” You uttered again, this time softly. You looked down on your shoes, it seemed like the floor looked really interesting now, “Then bye-bye, Kento.”

“Bye Y/N.”

He leaves you standing there, cursing yourself because of your erratic heartbeat at the way he says your name in that voice. First name basis? okay, totally normal for sort-of lovers, right?

taglist [if crossed out, i can’t tag u ; - ;]

; @coldbookworm  ; @frankenstein852  ;  @neavil  ; @shephard17895  @kristineyoshaii ; @airybnb ; @okachansenpai ; @amortentiaxo ; @rinvtaro ; @franko-pop ; @kozutenshi ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant ; @bleepop ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant ; @pettybroccoli ; @nixxona ; @kiyoo-omi ; @omibaby ; @bokkunto ; @peccobagnaia​ ; @sangwoahbigbussy​ ; 

@Kurok1717 ;  @hcn421 ;  @shinhiromi ;  @airybnb ; @katshuya ; ​@atsuhaya

[fruitcoops]

would you potentially write sirius wearing remus’ jersey? 👀 (i love your writing btw!!)

I sure can! I really hope Haz writes this in Vaincre, but for now, this is my take on it. Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for smut and mild overstimulation

Remus heard footsteps approach from the hall and closed his eyes with a sigh. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it—

“Y’know, I don’t think Earth should qualify as a planet.”

“Fuck you,” he fired back, though it came out as little more than an incomprehensible slur around the hunk of plastic in his mouth.

“Really, I do,” Sirius continued. Remus took a deep breath through his nose and did his goddamn best not to bite through the still-soft mouthguard as it molded to his teeth. “Other planets don’t have life on them. We’re the only one. That makes us an outlier.”

“As soon as this thing comes out, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Kinky. Anyway, have I told you about that article I read that talked about the moon landing?” Through the blood pounding in his ears, Remus heard the clink of a water glass being taken down from the cupboard. “Turns out the whole thing is a hoax.”

Remus dug his phone out of his pants and furiously typed out a message, cursing every higher power that he got stuck with that idiot as his husband. Damn you for being pretty. “Read,” he ordered, closing his eyes and holding it over his shoulder.

“I’m illiterate.”

“I detest you.”

“What was that? Sorry, I’m having some trouble understanding you.”

“Sirius fucking Black—”

Remus’ mumbled retaliation cut off abruptly with a soft huh as he whipped around, and his jaw fell open. Sirius smiled, easy as you please, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Yes?”

“Oh, fuck,” Remus whimpered around his mouthguard. A sly grin curled the edges of Sirius’ perfect lips upward; he quirked an eyebrow and turned in a slow circle.

“Fits better than I thought it would,” he remarked as Remus whined, desperately checking the timer on his phone. Two minutes and seventeen seconds. Shit. The golden number 6 on the back caught the light of their kitchen like a beacon—a sexy, sexy beacon that beckoned toward every atom in Remus’ body while he tried not to drool on himself. “Mine was a bit big on you, non?”

“Baby, c’mon. C’mon, don’t do this.”

“Should I take it off?”

“No!” Remus blurted, nearly spitting the mouthguard out in his hurry. Sirius shot him a teasing look and sauntered over, then braced his hands—his fucking hands, Remus was so gone for that irritating bastard—on the back of the couch and leaned over until their noses nearly touched.

“What?” he asked, quiet and yet low as thunder. “Cat got your tongue, Loops?”

Remus couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sharp peak of his collarbone beneath a drape of red-and-gold fabric; he couldn’t wait to get his teeth on it. His hands only shook a little as he reached up and rolled the hem between his fingertips, sliding his palms up to the strong planes of Sirius’ chest, hidden by his jersey. A meteor could strike the earth, and Remus would die happy for having seen his name and number emblazoned on the most beautiful man alive.

“Are you going to take it off?”

Remus shook his head without looking up and skimmed a thumb over Sirius’ nipple, feeling a thrill race through him when his breath caught. “Gotcha.”

“Bummer about the mouthguard,” Sirius panted. “If you didn’t leave it to the last second, you could already have that pretty mouth on me.”

As if on cue, the timer went off. Sirius’ face went slack in surprise. Remus grinned, and carefully popped the mouthguard out, laying it in its case before yanking Sirius into his lap. “You were saying?”

“I will admit, I thought that would take longer to set.”

“So you decided to torture me?” Remus guided him down to his neck and felt Sirius shudder.

“I always torture you on mouthguard Fridays.”

He hummed, opening a new package as quietly as he could. “I think I found a solution.”

“Seeing me in your jersey?”

“No. This.” Ignoring the confused noise Sirius made when he leaned back, he slid the new mouthguard mold between his teeth with a sugar-sweet smile, making sure to highlight his dimple. “You look gorgeous. You’ll be sorry for it, though.”

Sirius’ brows pitched and he mumbled a word that might have been ‘kisses’ if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied.

“You’ll get kisses eventually. That thing’ll be done in ten minutes, and it better be perfect.”

Without giving him a chance to appeal his case, Remus pushed him flat onto the couch, set the timer, and settled between his thighs with a tight grip on his narrow hips. The first touch of his tongue to the outline of Sirius’ dick drew a deep groan from him; he saw Sirius’ next tighten and reached up to grab him by the jaw.

“What did I say?” he asked patiently as Sirius squirmed under him. The tension released, and he smiled, placing a kiss to the side of his mouth as he rubbed his palm along Sirius’ shaft. “Je t’ai, mon amour. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

In a moment of shocking foresight (which Remus was eternally grateful for), Sirius had chosen to wander about in just the jersey and his underwear. The fabric was already sticky when his breath fanned hot over it—Sirius closed his eyes with a soft sound and reached back for the armrest.

“Harlot,” Remus teased as he ran his hand along his inner thighs. Sirius huffed a laugh, but it quickly transformed into a moan as Remus pulled his boxers away and took as much of him into his mouth as he could.

“Oh, god,” Sirius said, clearly winded as one knee knocking against Remus’ ribs while his lower back arched. “Please, please, ngh—”

Remus pulled away with a sigh and took his jaw again, giving it a little shake. “Sirius. Don’t clench your teeth.”

A shaky sound slipped through; he stared up at Remus in a silent plea, but managed to relax.

“You have eight minutes left.” Remus rubbed his thumb in small circles over the head of his dick and watched his eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Count if you want, but that should be good enough for you to wear.”

Sirius nodded, his breaths coming harder as if he had just run a race. Under his palm, Remus could feel his heartbeat pounding in his broad chest—he smoothed the jersey down, then scooted back to resume pulling Sirius apart thread by thread. He had felt that exact fabric almost every day for months and rarely found anything attractive about it, but on Sirius it was astonishing how fast his whole body lit up in response. He wanted to see him wear it and nothing else.

He pulled off with a soft laugh when Sirius put his forearm over his mouth. His thighs were trembling on either side of Remus. “Oh, baby, is that hard for you?”

A keening noise was his only response.

Remus kept a tight grip on the base of his shaft, sliding his thumb along the underside as he swallowed Sirius down and nipped kisses along his sensitive hips. “Relax, I’ll take care of you.”

He grinned to himself as a shudder rocked through Sirius’ whole body and more precome dripped over his lower lip. The clock on his phone read three minutes. Plenty of time to take him apart, Remus thought, slipping two fingers into Sirius’ mouth to stop him from biting down. He made a muffled noise of protest, but it was weak, and within moments he was putty once again.

“I don’t think it really matters which skate you put on first,” he said casually, bracing an arm over Sirius’ lower belly as his hips jerked. “And at the end of the day, superstitions are bullshit.”

Sirius’ eyes flared open in disbelief; he tried to retort, but the mouthguard and Remus’ fingers made him incomprehensible.

“Sorry, I’m having some trouble understanding you,” Remus mimicked. Sirius’ chest buzzed with an angry sound, but he just smiled and licked a long stripe up his length, laving his tongue against the spot just beneath the head. “And you know what?”

“Hmm?” Sirius managed, clearly frustrated as his hands flexed.

Remus pulled back and leaned over him. The contrast between the warm colors of his jersey and the quicksilver of Sirius’ eyes drove him wild, and he closed his eyes as he bent down until his lips just brushed the shell of Sirius’ ear. “Sometimes, if it was a really long day and I was tired and ready to go home…”

Sirius made a questioning noise and Remus bit down on the hinge of his jaw.

“I would sharpen your right skate before your left.”

Sirius froze. Remus sat back up with a smug look and took his thoroughly slicked fingers out; from the expression on Sirius’ face, he may as well have told him he burned down the rink. The slack-jawed horror dissolved into pure indignance in half a second. “You mother—”

For the second time in about fifteen seconds, Sirius was lost for words. He replaced them with a yelp that Remus prayed the neighbors wouldn’t hear, rolling his hips back onto the finger that crooked upward in a practiced movement. The mouthguard may have muffled his words, but it did nothing to stop him from moaning.

Remus redoubled his efforts as the clock ticked down the final minute—he had plans for later, but they would only work if Sirius was properly handled first. He finally fell silent, reduced to gasping and writhing as Remus worked two fingers inside of him and kept up so much suction his own jaw was beginning to ache. Finally, with a desperate little sound and a harsh grip on the couch cushion, Sirius shook to pieces, his stomach jolting as Remus stroked the underside of his thigh in soothing motions.

The timer went off a few seconds later, and he carefully pulled the plastic out of Sirius’ mouth. There were a few dents from his lower teeth and the back was decently mangled, but overall…

“Huh. Not bad,” he said, setting it on the coffee table. Sirius blinked slowly at him, his mouth still open and his pupils blown wide as he tried to catch his breath. “Alright, up.”

Sirius silently shook his head, never taking his eyes off Remus’ face.

“Yep, c’mon. You’re still wearing my jersey, and I need to thank you for it.”

A quiet puff of air left his lungs as his dick twitched. “I c—I can’t.”

Remus sighed through his nose and stood, then hoisted Sirius into a bridal hold and headed toward the stairs. “It’s a good thing I’m strong enough to do this, or else you’d have to get yourself upstairs all by yourself.”

“Re?”

He maneuvered so Sirius’ feet wouldn’t smack into the banister and smiled when a kiss brushed against his cheekbone. “Yes?”

“You were kidding about the skate thing, right?”

“Depends.” He nudged the bedroom door open with his hip. “Were you kidding about the moon?”

Sirius’ shoulders shook with laughter as Remus set him down on the bed and settled on top of him, bracketing his face and waist. His hands were warm and broad on his cheeks, pulling him down for a kiss at long last. Remus hummed into it; his insides turned to happy mush, and he began running his palms along the outside of Sirius’ bare thighs.

“You look fucking amazing in my jersey, love,” he murmured.

“I know.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“You say that like you didn’t already know.”

Remus kissed the smile off his face, lacing their fingers and pressing them down over Sirius’ head—he stretched his back like a contented cat before shifting until he was comfortable. “I still think about that night, you know.”

“Well, yeah, we won the Cup.”

“I think about the way you let me push you against the door,” he continued, paying Sirius no attention as he mapped each curve and angle of his neck. After over a year of practice, he knew the best spots by heart. “And the way you looked at me when you saw what I was wearing. And when you held me like you were going to break if I stopped moving. I wish you could’ve seen your face when I begged you to let me come again. Remember that?”

The room was quiet for a moment, save for Sirius’ shallow breaths and the rustle of the sheets as he squirmed.

Remus pulled back from his neck and ran a thumb over his wet lower lip. “Hey. Answer me.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Sirius said on the tail end of a slow exhale. “Fuck. You can’t just say things like that.”

“You kept your hand right here,” he said, pressing down on Sirius’ chest with just enough force to feel his lungs hitch. “I might not have a badge, but I’ll figure something out. I think I understand why you like it when I wear yours so much.”

“Every time you wear it, we fuck, and it’s always mind-blowing. There’s no way I’ll be able to see it on you outside of bed.”

“I have the sneaking suspicion we’re on the same page with that.” He took the backs of Sirius’ knees in his hands and pushed until they almost touched his chest. “Hold.”

Through the grace of God, the lube was easy to find. Remus really didn’t know what he would have done if it wasn’t—he might have been confident on the outside, but his fine motor skills were sorely lacking and his brain was playing a loop of sexy boyfriend jersey sexy boyfriend jersey that he couldn’t even dream of stopping. Sirius made a series of cut-off keening noises as he opened him up, and Remus wanted to memorize the look on his face.

“Deep breaths, baby,” he soothed, resting a hand over Sirius’ heart when his legs began to shake. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Oh, god,” Sirius choked out, leaning his head back into the pillows. “Re, please—”

“Shh.” Remus moved his free hand up to hold one index finger over Sirius’ lips while the other pushed and pressed inside of him, skimming over his prostate in a random pattern that drew harsh exhales each time.

“I can’t,” Sirius whined. “Mon amour, I can’t.”

“You don’t need to do anything but hold.” Small white spots were appearing on Sirius’ knuckles as he clutched at his thighs; his dick was already starting to drip again. Remus slid into him and stifled a moan into his own shoulder, though he really didn’t have to worry—Sirius’ short cry would have covered any other sound easily. “There you go, nice and easy.”

Sirius blubbered out a string of incoherent words as Remus began to move and the mattress began to creak, but he was far too preoccupied with the way his jersey shone in the light of their bedroom and stood stark against the sheets in a blaze of red. Sirius’ smooth skin, so warm and flushed under his touch, blended almost seamlessly with the golden edges until Remus couldn’t think to do anything but lean down and kiss him. He responded eagerly, craning his neck for a better angle and pulling Remus’ lower lip between his teeth with a breathless moan. Once, he tried to let go of his leg and bring him closer, but Remus calmly took his hand and guided it back to the proper place without breaking stride.

“I need—I need—mon dieu, merde—need you, please,” Sirius panted, squeezing his eyes shut with a wavering moan.

“Je t’ai,” Remus repeated as he sucked a mark on the junction of his neck. Sirius’ whole left side went limp at the feeling. “I’ve got you. Christ, Sirius, you look incredible.”

A gasp left his kiss-swollen lips as he looked up at Remus. “I don’t think I can come again, Re, please—”

“You can. Color?”

“Vert, green, but—” He bit down on his lower lip as Remus held his waist in a firm grip. “I really don’t think I can.”

“I think you can,” Remus said, combing his fingers through the top of Sirius’ hair and giving it a tug. His whole abdomen tightened and his knees knocked together; it took Remus several seconds to get his breath back to the point where he wasn’t about to come on the spot. “I’m taking care of you right now, remember? If I say you can, you can.”

Sirius’ gaze was bright and untethered as he gulped—Remus gave his hair another pull, harder, and he shivered. More precome painted his stomach and darkened the hem of the jersey. His vocabulary seemed to be reduced to oh, fuck on repeat, growing slightly higher in pitch each time until he was just whimpering. “Re—Re, now—”

Remus caught his mouth in a slow, gentle kiss and wrapped a hand around him, not changing his pace until Sirius crumbled into a puddle of bliss and his shins connected with Remus’ ribs. He buried his face in Sirius’ sweaty neck with a sharp gasp and followed him over the edge mere moments later; he didn’t even try to catch himself as his knees slipped on the sheets and brought him down to lay across Sirius’ chest.

For a few seconds, all he could hear was their breaths and heartbeats. Part of him was tempted to doze off right there, but he rallied the last of his energy and peeled Sirius’ hands off his legs, pulling them down and out so they wouldn’t cramp. Sirius was staring at the ceiling in a daze; the jersey was rumpled and rucked up around his ribs, and Remus slid that down as well.

“Baby?” he said, kissing each of his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Sirius’ voice cracked and he bit back a laugh.

“Ça va?”

“Mmm. Très bien.” His arms were little more than noodles as he wrapped them around Remus’ shoulders.

“Come on,” he said after a bit, disentangling himself despite Sirius’ grumbling. “You did so well, but we still have to clean up. You can be the little spoon, if you give me a hand.”

“You’ll have to carry me.”

“No,” Remus laughed. “I barely hold myself up, are you kidding?”

Sirius cracked one sleepy eye open, then narrowed it. “Depends. Were you kidding about my skates?”

[pilothusband]

fly me to the moon

Rating: M-ish (a lil spicy at the end)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, boner mention, a douchebag, a little hint at food shaming

Word count: 2.5k

Description: You go on a date with a complete asshole. He takes you on a helicopter tour, not expecting the pilot to be the one to sweep you off your feet.

Author’s note: Probably should have edited this more but meh. This was completely self-indulgent. Unbeta’d. Let me know what you think!

gif by @pedroispunk

Why did I agree to go out with this jackass in the first place?

Your eyes were starting to feel sore with the amount of times you had rolled them throughout your date. He hadn’t noticed the exasperated movement of your eyes, too swept up in talking about the summer he spent in Ibiza with his former fraternity brothers, his medium rare, overpriced ribeye untouched.

So far, everything had felt off. The way he pulled up outside of your apartment and honked his horn to signal his arrival, the anchor cufflinks in his freshly pressed suit, paired with a pair of leather boat shoes and a salmon-pink button down. You loved a man in pink, but the rest of the outfit just felt like it didn’t fit together. Was he going to a wedding or going to party on a yacht? You had glanced down at your own outfit, a simple black dress that stopped mid-calf and hung loose, just barely hinting at your curves.

God, you hoped he wasn’t going to take you on a boat.

You had only agreed to this date in the first place because Liam, an investment banker who worked in your office building in the suite below yours, had asked you nearly every day for a month in a row. He was persistent, kind of like a mosquito, but you figured you were being too picky and needed to expand your horizons a bit. Maybe you would learn more about him and actually have a good time.

Not so much.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his brows knit together when you had ordered the fettuccine alfredo. The restaurant’s menu was pretty limited, and you didn’t recognize most of the items. This place was just too fancy for your comfort. You had wanted to call the waiter back to the table and change your order to a cheeseburger, just to embarrass him further.

As Liam droned on about how his father had taught him how to manage his finances, you let your mind wander to last weekend. You had gone out with your friends, Benny and Will, a pair of brothers who were each other’s polar opposites, yet they had a bond that was stronger than any other siblings you had ever met.

You were already well acquainted with their other friends, Santiago and Frankie, affectionately known as Pope and Catfish. Pope had a magnetic personality– he commanded the room without meaning to, sometimes to the detriment of others around him, who were trying to get a word in edgewise. 

Frankie was complicated. He was quiet, a little rough around the edges, and a little gruff, but so soft at the same time. His eyes gave way to a deeply settled kind of hurt. They had drawn you in almost right away. It only took one glance at his smile, brilliant and boyish, with a hint of a dimple gracing his cheek, before you were hooked.

You had only known him for a few months now and only saw him when the guys got together, but you couldn’t deny the desire that clutched at your stomach whenever his deep brown eyes met yours.

You heard your date call your name, snapping you out of your daydream.

“You ready for part two of the best date ever?” Liam asked. His smirk was all wrong. It wasn’t soft or playful. It was polished and practiced. He reminded you too much of Patrick Bateman.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, pasting a smile onto your face, inwardly wincing at how fake it was. You could not wait to go home and put on your sweatpants.

Shit. Holy shit.

He was taking you on a helicopter tour. The same company that Catfish worked for. Your stomach was in knots, threatening an unwelcome return of the alfredo you had for lunch.

Maybe he’s not working today, maybe we’ll get a different pil–

Of course you had no such luck. The guide ushered you both over towards the launching pad, where Frankie stood, wearing a tan flight suit. His hair was tousled, likely from being up in the air for most of the day and he had a pair of aviators on. He looked delectable.

His eyebrows shot up in recognition. He cocked his head to the side, glancing at your date, then back at you, a grimace set on his face.

Frankie schooled his expression and walked up and gave you a side hug, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently.

“Good to see you,” he said, giving you a small grin.

“You two know each other?” Liam asked, his eyes shifting between the two of you.

“Oh, yes, Liam– this is Frankie. He’s one of my friends.” 

Friends.

“Nice to meet you, Liam,” Frankie said, shaking his hand politely.

Liam gave Frankie one of his wide, practiced grins. “Likewise.”

You could have sworn you saw Liam wince a little during the handshake, but you chalked it up to pre-flight jitters. Liam slung an arm around your shoulder possessively and chuckled.

“Excited to show this pretty lady some pretty sights.” His fingers curled into your shoulder, a little too hard, and he jostled you a little, trying to come off as a cute gesture. It had you feeling like a rag doll. 

The smile you gave him must have been pretty forced, because Frankie coughed, interrupting the moment.

“All right, folks. Ready to get going?” 

You nodded, feeling a fluttering in your belly. Despite not wanting to be stuck in a helicopter with Liam, you were excited to finally see Frankie in action.

Frankie handed you both a pair of headsets and instructed you to buckle up. Before climbing in himself, he checked Liam’s belt, tightening it a little and then came over to your side, adjusting your belt as well. You risked a peek at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. 

“All set,” he murmured, giving you a soft smile.

Before you knew it, Frankie was in the pilot’s seat and the helicopter roared to life. The blades were whirring above your heads, making your hair whip around your face. You tucked the sides of your dress under your legs, silently cursing Liam for not warning you of this afternoon’s non-dress appropriate activity.

The swoop you felt in your stomach was unlike anything you had felt before, more intense than a commercial flight. You tried not to fidget, knowing you were in good hands with Frankie piloting, but fuck, were you already high up, and only climbing higher by the second.

You briefly wondered how high up you were now, how high up Frankie had ever flown. You planned on asking him once you were all safely back on the ground.

A large gust of wind made its way into the helicopter, forcing a shiver down your spine, goosebumps rising on your woefully unprotected arms.

“You cold, sweetie?” Liam asked. “I would give you my jacket but I need it to stay warm. You should have planned better, gorgeous.”

You instantly clenched your teeth, wishing murder was legal at this very moment.

“Well, Liam, I would have brought a jacket if you had told me we were coming here,” you said, voice dripping with a sarcastic, syrupy sweet tone.

“I have a jacket in the compartment in front of you,” Frankie said, glancing over quickly. “Go ahead and put it on.”

You obliged, opening the compartment and bundling up in the oversized jacket, instantly feeling better once the corduroy material covered your arms. You wrapped it around your torso and took a deep breath, hiding your grin in the sherpa collar. It smelled like him.

“Thank you, ‘Fish,” you said softly. He didn’t respond, but you saw his dimple appear out of the corner of your eye.

“All good back there?” You heard Frankie’s voice in your ears. You looked over to him, only catching a glimpse of his hands and the side of his face, partially obscured by his headset and his baseball cap.

“Doing fan-tas-tic, Frank,” Liam whooped. You couldn’t help but wince at how loud his voice was, and how he intentionally pronounced Frankie’s name incorrectly.

“Great,” Frankie sounded unamused.

You huffed, annoyed at your date’s bad manners and looked out the window. Terrible date aside, you had to admit the bay from above was absolutely gorgeous. You looked down at the ocean, so expansive and eternally blue. Your eyes skimmed over to where water met land, at the soft sand on the beach, turning into a thick forest.

“Frankie, it’s beautiful,” you gasped.

You looked over at him briefly, seeing a hint of a smile on his face.

Liam was momentarily forgotten, until his hand snaked its way onto your thigh, giving it a little squeeze. Instinctually, you moved your leg at the unwanted contact. Liam looked over at you, an ugly scowl marring his face.

“Careful with the turns in this thing,” he said, addressing Frankie. “Our girl here ate about 15 pounds of pasta before this.”

You felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over you, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. They streaked down into your hairline from the force of the wind around you. You had already realized Liam was a bit of a douche, but you hadn’t thought him to be cruel.

“The only thing we have to worry about bringing this thing down is that big head of yours,” Frankie quipped back.

Biting back a laugh, you looked out the window so Liam wouldn’t see your reaction.

You could tell Liam wanted to argue back, but he stayed quiet, since the man he wanted to lash out at was responsible for keeping you all alive at the moment.

The rest of the ride was pretty quiet, other than the persistent chopping of the helicopter blades. The views were beautiful, but you found your eyes wandering back over to Frankie every few minutes. The tanned skin of his hands as he deftly worked at the throttle. Every time he pulled on a control you saw the veins in his forearms strain with the movement. You wondered what else those hands could do.

Before you knew it, the bird touched down and you unbuckled your seatbelt, removing the tight headset from your ears. You had a slight headache and you could tell getting down was going to be a struggle.

Frankie seemed to have no issue, jumping out of his seat with grace and walking over to your side to help you down. Your legs were shaking, so you stumbled as your feet hit the ground, grabbing onto his broad shoulders for dear life.

“I– oof, sorry,” you laughed nervously, rubbing your nose. You had bumped into his chest nearly smashing your face into his sternum. Frankie bit his lip and chuckled in response, squeezing your waist. You felt dizzy with his arms caging you in like this. It gave you an overwhelming desire to wrap yourself around him, to feel him pressed against you.

“It’s okay, I got you.” His voice rumbled in your ear, absolutely sending your senses on a tailspin. His strong, quiet voice was doing something magical to your already weak knees.

You stepped away before you fell over, remembering your date after a moment. He was about ten feet away, arms crossed, his face pinched in an angry expression.

“I don’t think this is working out,” he said as you walked over to him.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you said, giving him a sickly sweet grin. “I’ll find another ride home.”

Liam scoffed and made his way back into the tour center to grab his belongings. You instantly felt a weight lift off your shoulders. Thank God he left.

“So, why did you go out with that asshole, anyways?” Frankie asked, a bewildered expression on his face.

You sighed, feeling embarrassed.

“I honestly don’t know. He wouldn’t leave me alone so I decided to give him a shot.”

“I can’t say I blame him for being persistent, but seriously, fuck that guy.”

You huffed a laugh. 

“Seriously, when he made that comment about what you ate for lunch I wanted to throw him right out of the helicopter.”

You bit your lip and sniffed, feeling the embarrassment wash over you at the memory.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” your voice was small and you rubbed at your arms nervously.

Frankie had a hard, angry look on his face. It made you feel a little giddy, that he was so angry on your behalf.

“He should have never talked to you that way. He’s lucky you agreed to go out with his sorry ass.”

“You’re right. And God, I can’t believe he took me here, of all places,” you laughed. This really was surreal.

“Feels kind of like fate, huh?” He said, giving you a boyish grin.

“How so?”

“Well,” he stepped towards you, arms sliding up the material of his jacket. “I’ve always wanted to see you in this jacket.” His gaze made its way down your figure. His eyes were dark as he swallowed heavily.

“And I’ve always wanted to go on a date with you, though not while you’re on one with another man.” The smile he gave you was shy, searching, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d react.

“Well, I won’t be making that mistake again,” you replied, stepping closer. 

Your tongue came out to wet your lips and Frankie watched with rapture. 

“I’d like to kiss you now, if that’s okay.” His mouth was an inch from yours, and his large, calloused hands cradled your face gently.

“Please, Frankie,” you sighed.

His lips were soft, despite the bruising urgency in his actions. Your hands immediately tangled into his hair, knocking the cap off his head. You melted against him and licked his bottom lip, asking for permission. He immediately complied, licking into your mouth. Your tongues found a delicious rhythm, tangling together. You moaned into his mouth, spurring him on further. His hips pressed into yours. You could feel how hard he was, even through his flight suit.

“Fuck, baby” he rasped, pulling away. His chest was heaving, breath ragged from your kiss. “The things I want to do to you.”

You slanted your hips back into his, pressing into his erection. “Then do them.”

Frankie bit his lip and groaned, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re absolutely perfect for me, you know that?” 

You grinned, leaning forward to capture his lips again.

“I want to do this right, though,” he said. “I’m going to take you out on a better date. Show you how first dates should go. And then I’m going to take you home and show you how much I’ve wanted you for months.”

You felt as if your heart had stopped momentarily.

“That sounds perfect to me,” you said, kissing him again.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo​ @recklessworry @wyn-dixie​ @manalg14​ @codenamewife @comphersjost​ @princessxkenobi​

[eartht137]

DEAREST HEART- Letter One

Okay, For The Better has got me at a standstill. Every time I go to write the next chapter, I get a very "bad" idea and I have to write it in to meld with what I have in mind, but as my birthday is approaching in 2 days and Halloween is quickly approaching, I have developed a very new and delicious idea. I thought up this story in the shower. Hear me out, okay? The blinds that cover the window in my bathroom fell, and I mean fell from the wall, so I had to take a shower in the dark with a candle. Well it gets pretty muggy in my bathroom, as there's not a lot of room, so I opened the window to get some air, well with the wind blowing and the leaves rustling I kinda got that weird feeling that someone was watching me (which I highly doubt). In this story the character/you are a new wife and mom and you've been unmotivated to do normal chores and upkeep due to de pression and anxiety. I kinda wanted to touch on some real topics that I felt may resonate as I've noticed there is a lot of depression and anxieties that have been major high and I just wanted to send a small message that you are seen, you are heard, you are worthy, you are loved. Even if it is in your own world, I'd rather have my own world that I can escape to and have things go my way than keep taking on the pressure of things we deal with everyday. Also this is another Dark Clark Kent. I know, I know, the idea of the man just does something to me. So with that curvies, I present to you Dearest Heart. Okay rant over for the day. Please proceed..........oh yeah MMMMMMmwwwwwwaaahhhhhhh

Dark Clark Kent x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Non Con, somnophilia, masturbation, stalking, mentions of impregnation. Maybe other things too. MINORS DNI!!!

You were getting up and ready for work, since starting your new job, you'd found yourself a bit out of balance. Being a new wife and mom, trying to adjust, you'd found yourself falling in and out of a reel of depression and anxiety. You very rarely had the energy or drive to clean and sometimes your depression got you to a point where you didn't really want to keep up your hygiene. Finally, you'd gotten the burst of life you needed and decided to make use of it while you had the drive. You started keeping up your hygiene as you used to and cleaned your house day by day. You started cherishing more moments with your husband and son. You had noticed the more you took effort within the day, it helped you feel a bit better everyday. One day, you stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air and sunlight. As you were getting ready to head back inside, you saw a letter place neatly on the bars of you security door with small rose. You tilted you head in confusion and looked around. You took the letter, seeing that it had "Dearest Heart' written beautifully across the front. You walked inside while admiring the vintage parchment envelope.

"Baby?" Your husband asked curiously, making you look up and smile as he and your son watched you.

"Well I think the mailman left someone else's mail-again." You sighed tossing the letter down on the table by your door. You went over and spent the remainder of you free time with your husband and son before heading into your office and logging on for work.

On your first break, you rushed out of your office hoping to spend time with your loved ones. You giggled as you watched your husband and son sleep with their mouths wide open on your couch. You were about to step into the bathroom when you got the nagging urge to go back and look at the letter again. You stared at it from across the room a moment before finally giving in to curiosity and grabbing it. You studied it for a moment before your husband adjusting on the couch startled you. You quietly went to the bathroom and examined the letter. Looking at your phone, you realized you didn't have much time, and would just open it to see what it looked like inside. A very hopeful side of you prayed that in your head that it was filled with cash that some good saint just felt in their heart to give, but you knew that was a slim chance. When you opened the letter, you almost gasped, almost like a child feeling as if you if you'd just done something forbidden. The alarm on you phone vibrated and you jumped, the letter dropped from you hands. You laughed a bit at yourself, picked up the letter, tucked it away and went back to work.

One your lunch break, after making something to eat for yourself and your hungry boys, you found yourself practically lured back to the bathroom to find the letter you'd tucked away for later. You opened it and pulled out a very beautifully written letter, but the first line damn near made your heart stop. You read it over and over trying to make sure you weren't seeing things, but there it was in black in, your name. You took a deep breath and continued reading the letter.

My Dearest Y/n,

I promised myself I wouldn't try to interfere in your life, but my heart won't let my stand idly by. I know this is abrupt as you've never seen me in your life, at least you don't remember meeting me, its been so long ago; but I can't keep quiet about this anymore as my love for you has yet to subside. I know it sounds unbelievable, but I swore I'd never lie to you and I am a man of my word. You might be a little worried as to how I know you, where you live-but you'd be shocked at how much I know about you and it'd scare you to know how long I've watched over you. Little love, I've been a bit disappointed in you. You allowed yourself to get to far down and instead of talking it out, you've been bottling everything in. We both know how that ends. You can talk to me if you need to, but I was really disappointed in how you allowed things to get. You weren't getting out of bed, you weren't keeping your hygiene up, and you weren't keeping the house up; on top of that, you haven't been utilizing any of your self-care tools. You didn't leave the house for a month and you cried every night by yourself because you're too stubborn to get out of your own head for two seconds and let the people who love you in. You were also finding a new lie every week to call into to work, that was disappointing darling because you don't have to lie, just tell them you need a day for your health, you don't owe them anymore explanation than that, but I don't want you to lie again. Do you remember those 2 weeks your backside was sore and stinging and you couldn't figure out why? I'm so sorry dear heart but I had to light a fire in you some way, and I just can't allow you to behave in such a way. I also can't stand to see the woman I love not take care of herself. On another note, I do want to tell you how proud of you I have been with how much you love and care for our son. He's growing so big isn't he? Oh darling, I know you think he's your husbands, but I guarantee he is my flesh and blood, why do you think he stares at me so long when he sees my photo pass your screen. His blood is my blood, he knows who he is. I have decided dear heart, to be a bit more active in your life as I have come to realize that my standing by protecting in the shadows is not enough. It will be awhile my love, but one day we will be together. You, Me and our son. I love you both so much, I promise you we will be a family as we should one day. For now I will continue to watch from the distance and protect you when you need me. I will also be there to talk whenever you just want to talk out loud. Before I end this letter, I want to also tell you how proud I am that you've started writing. I love the stories you've been writing about me and I promise to fulfill every one of you desires as soon as the time is right. Only this time, you'll be able to enjoy it as much as I have. I will be writing again, you don't have to reply, but it would be nice. Keep up the good work sweetheart, I love you.

With All My Heart and Soul,

Kal-El

Your heart pounded in your ears, you forgot to breath and tears filled your eyes. You kept trying to convince yourself it was a prank, but the more you tried to deny it, the more you knew it was real. You sat thinking to yourself, when you'd written a story about him, you didn't know anyone named Kal-El. You immediately started walking around your house making sure every window and door was locked. You wanted to tell your husband, but once again the gut feeling told you not to, and you'd realized that your gut was really on point and that just made things scarier.

You finished you lunch break and the rest of that day unable to concentrate on anything. That night while you took a shower, you kept looking through the blinds to see if you'd see someone. On one had you wanted to see if there was someone really there and on the other you felt you'd probably shit yourself if you really saw someone. After a moment or two, you'd finally convinced yourself it was a sick prank and someone in the neighborhood was being an idiot. You laughed a bit and finished up, ready to finally get the sleep you'd been begging for all day. As you laid in bed, every noise made you jump. Every time something or someone would move, you'd go from the precipice of sleep to fully awake. You had been feeling watched for the longest time and you'd just blamed it on being crazy, but now with the letter confirming your nightmare, you really had no idea what to do. Your mind ran and ran until it finally shut itself down and you drifted off to a very peaceful sleep despite everything going on around you.

He sat in the corner of your dark room watching you breath calmly. He wanted so badly to go over and rock you to sleep as he watched you struggle to fall asleep, but he couldn't present himself to you just yet, not until everything was perfect the way we wanted it before he showed himself.

He sat there watching you from the other side of the room knowing that soon you'd throw the covers off of your plush body exposing your luscious curves that he loved feeling in his large hands. His hand stroked himself as he thought back to the first night he took you. You were sleeping so good, you didn't hardly move. His released his hard thick cock from their restraints and pumped himself as he watched your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. He thought back to the first time he tasted your nipples, how hard they got when he kissed and nipped them. How wet you got for him and how he once made you cum from playing with them only. He then thought about how delicious you were. His fist moving faster and rougher down his shaft. He remembered how tight you were when he first fucked you. How hot and juicy you were as he pumped deep into your soft pussy filling you with every inch of him. He wanted to ruin you, and he wished you could see the happiness he felt when you couldn't cum one night from yours or your husbands touches. His hand pumped faster as he remembered fucking you so good one night your orgasm woke you as you came, as disappointed as he was that he couldn't feel you cum around him, he was still proud to have your body so responsive for him. That sent him over the edge and he came hard wanting so badly to empty inside of you. He wanted to see you round with his baby again, but he wanted to allow you the time to fully heal. He used one of your husbands shirts to wipe himself clean, and he gave you a soft peck on the lips, smiling when you turned away.

"I love you so much. I promise things will be right soon. Sleep well dearest heart." He whispered before leaving. He couldn't wait until you found his next letter.

[plume-pigmented-pili]

Hey hey! here’s a little something I wrote for Eli a few months ago. They convinced me i should post it, so here i am lol

———

Tw: Descriptions of a Cold, sickness (non graphic), feelings unwanted, coughing, headaches, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort. Let me know if I need to add more!

Words: 5.2k

Pairing: Prinxiety (Written as Romantic but could be read as platonic i guess)

“Virgil is miserable. Its the middle of the night, and Virgil is stuck in bed, unable to sleep, with a horrible cold. The actual cold isn’t why he’s miserable, though.

Is it selfish to want to be cared for?”

—

Through Sickness and Health

Virgil could hear the clock on the opposite wall ticking just a tad too fast, and didn’t need to even look over at it to know it was way too late to be awake. Sure, he didn’t have the best sleep schedule, but at least he was usually enjoying himself when he stayed up, and it was rarely this late. It wasn’t even his fault this time.

But here Virgil was, laying in bed curled under all the blankets he owned, wishing he was dead. On paper, that sounds a lot worse than it really was, but who could blame him? The sweet release of death sounded like heaven compared to suffering here any longer. His throat was sandpaper dry, nose clogged with snot, and what felt like a small bomb went off in his skull with every movement.

That, though, wasn’t the main reason he was suffering.

He’d been sick before, he knew it would be over soon, but no physical pain could compare to the hurt he felt, knowing that the others knew of his illness, and didn’t give a single damn.

There was no way they didn’t know what was happening - even if he’d tried to hide it, which he hadn’t, it’s not like acting was ever his specialty - but not a single one of them had batted an eye since he came down with this stress induced cold.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. Patton had asked if he was feeling alright on day two, when Virgil had shuffled downstairs around three in the afternoon to grab a snack, hoodie flipped up as he dug around, his hands clearly shaky from fever yet he’d been too tired to try and hide it. He’d told Patton, in the least shaky voice he could muster, that he just wasn’t feeling very well.

In hindsight, it had probably been incredibly selfish of him to expect Patton to come to his aid and comfort him, maybe offer to tuck him in on the couch and make him something healthy to eat. He’d seen Patton do just that plus more when Logan or Roman were feeling under the weather after all. But despite knowing it was selfish, he couldn’t help the disappointment and sinking feeling he’d felt when Patton had simply responded with a gentle, almost pitying, “I’m sorry kiddo, thank you for telling me.” before walking away rather hurriedly, leaving it there.

The conversation rolled around in his head, as it had been for the past 5 days. Nobody had come to check on him, not even the resident fatherly side to see if he was feeling any better. He’d been downstairs one other time since that little exchange with Patton, but when he’d walked in on Roman and Logan talking casually in the living room, they’d both given him short, obviously forced smiles, and sunk out. That’d been on day three, and Virgil hadn’t gone back down there since. He wasn’t that hungry anyway.

Maybe they didn’t want to get sick? Or maybe they thought he was gross, and didn’t want to be near him. Did they think he would be rude to them?

All this thinking was making Virgil’s head hurt more. And it really didn’t matter the reason. They didn’t care, they clearly wanted to avoid him.

It hurt, worse than his actual sickness, having to stay away from everyone for days on end. It reminded him of the old days before he was accepted, when he wasn’t welcome anywhere else but the confinement of his room. He missed Patton’s warm greeting each time he walked into a room, or the rants Logan would get lost in that were strangely so calming. Most notably, though, he missed Roman.

He missed their stupid banter that always left him feeling more confident, and the never ending singing that Virgil pretended not to adore. Hell, he missed just talking to the creative side. He’d give anything just to have a conversation with him, just to lift his spirits a little. He longed for one of the warm, solid hugs that only Roman could give.

He would probably even give up his Disney posters, his entire MCR song library, or get banned from every Hot Topic in the country, just to be held and cuddled right at this moment. To be held in warm, secure arms, wrapped in the scent of cinnamon and roses, and drift to sleep knowing he wouldn’t be alone in the morning.

That last one had about a zero percent chance of happening, even if he wasn’t sick and contagious, but Virgil’s sleep deprived, fever ridden brain had decided to be sentimental, and Virgil couldn’t even stop it. At least he wasn’t gone enough to consider asking for any of that comfort he craved. it’d be easier for everyone to just wait in his room until he was better. Then maybe things would be normal again.

And that was his plan, until someone knocked on his door.

The anxious side’s gaze shot over to the clock, grimacing when the quick movement made his eyeballs throb. Who the Hell was knocking on his door at nearly 3:45 in the morning?

“Who-“ Virgil cringed at how his gravely voice broke, cleared his throat, then tried again. “Who is it?”

“I knew you were awake!” Romans voice, surprisingly enough, came from the other side of the door. He was clearly trying to stay quiet, but for some reason, he sounded really… relieved, and chipper. A second later, the Prince added a bit more bashfully, “Uh, unless i just woke you up by knocking, and if that’s the case I sincerely apologize, I didn’t mea-“

“No, I w’s already awake…” Virgil interrupted with a slight slur, groggy brain trying to keep up with what was happening. Being the embodiment of Anxiety, though, meant he didn’t get to stop being anxious just because he was sick. Why was he here? Was he angry? Virgil couldn’t recall doing anything that could offend anyone since he’d been self-quarantined, but then again, he couldn’t really remember his last name at the moment either. He mumbled to himself as he untangled his legs from the covers, cursing the universe under his breath because his head felt two times it’s normal size. Then he took a deep breath and sat up. He didn’t want to make Roman uncomfortable or grossed out seeing him all sick in bed, cause holy shit would that be embarrassing. He still didn’t look great, but it was a small step. “Come in Pr’ncey.”

The door swung open, revealing a timid, bed headed Roman, who seemed to relax a little when noticing Virgil sitting up in bed. “Hey there.. sorry to barge in, I hope i’m not bothering you.” he said, voice still lowered and really quite gentle as he shut the door behind him.

Virgil went to shake his head, but stopped himself before he could cause himself fucking brain damage and just shrugged instead. “ y’re not both’ring me. ‘sup?” yikes, all this sitting up and trying to look presentable business was making him realize how exhausted he was. His eyelids felt heavy already.

Roman took a few steps forward, keeping his eyes steadily on Virgil like he was waiting for him to keel over and die, or cough on him. It seemed pretty damn dramatic, even for Roman. “I… just wanted to check on you. I’ve uh, been a little worried about you, and i couldn’t sleep.” The Prince said, hesitant as he lowered himself on the foot of the bed.

Virgil blinked a few times, curling his legs up so his knees were to his chest to make sure Roman wouldn’t touch his feet under the 5 layers of blankets he had over him. Or maybe it was the sudden, treacherous hope that was rising in him, a hope he was trying to stifle. Roman was… worried about him? Roman of all sides? I mean, he wasn’t surprised that he cared, he and Roman were friends now after all. Virgil was just surprised he cared about this. He thought they were all in agreement to avoid him or something.

Virgil was about to open his mouth and say… something - he didn’t really know what he was going to say. It felt like his train of thought was chugging along through molasses - but he was interrupted before he could get any words out.

“Dude… no offense, but you look like actual death. And why in the name of Hades are you buried under so many blankets?” The Prince asked with what sounded like genuine confusion, at least for the second part.

Virgil huffed and pulled the blankets tighter around him, the movement causing him to shiver. He couldn’t decide what to focus on; The cold air on his back, the rising sensation of relief knowing Roman cared, or how weird that question had been. Quite honestly, Virgil wasn’t offended because he knew he looked like shit. he was just a little confused. He thought Roman would have known he’d look like shit. “What do you mean why do I have so many blankets. I literally feel like ’m freezing to death. ’s part of the package, shouldn’t you know this?” He practically deadpanned, not even for the snarkiness like usual. His speech was just dull.

But that only left Roman looking more confused, and probably a good deal more concerned if his expression was anything to go by. “I-... I didn’t know that, no.. I’m sorry. Do you want another blanket or something…?” he asked carefully, still awfully and almost painfully cautious.

And Virgil… was at a loss for how this could possibly be new information to Roman. it was pretty common knowledge even if you’ve never had a fever before. But instead of dwelling, Virgil once again stopped himself from shaking his head, sighing instead. “No, it won’ help.” he said shortly. The effort would be futile, but it was endearing that Roman at least asked. “Thanks though. That’s.. really nice of you t’ offer.” The anxious side offered a bit more quietly.

There was an awkward silence that followed, Roman shuffling his feet against the carpet slightly as he looked around the room. Virgil saw the other’s eyes catch on the pile of used tissues in the floor, another bout of confusion flashing in his bright green eyes, but he didn’t mention it this time. Maybe it was a lack of sleep making the Prince act so clueless at the moment. “I… I guess i’ve just.. i don’t know, everything is more boring without you around. Nobody to insult without actually offending them.” Roman spoke again after a moment, sending a half smile in Virgil’s direction.

A little smirk matched with a snort is what the Prince was rewarded with, Virgil's spirits lifted regardless of his misery. It felt nice knowing he was missed, and it made his chest warm knowing it was coming from Roman. For some reason, knowing he could make things more bearable for his counterpart was.. rewarding, in a way. And Roman looked proud of himself, before he continued a bit more solemnly. “You’ve been cooped up in here for so long, like what, 5 says now?”

That got Virgil to sigh, and maybe there was some defensiveness laying beneath the surface, made worse thanks to being miserable, but all he managed was a mildly annoyed side eye to Roman as he responded in a mumble, still doing his best not to run Roman off. “‘t’s not my fault.”

Roman was quick to shake his head, slight guilt in his expression. “I know! I-I’m not trying to make you feel bad, i guess i just- i don’t know, i’m just talking out loud… sorry.” Roman’s voice had quieted, eyes trained on the floor somewhat shamefully as he seemed to search for his words. “I just.. I just wish…” but once again, he trailed off, shaking his head and seeming to give up. “I’m sorry.”

“‘s fine, Princey.” Virgil mumbled back, eyes dropping to his lap where he picked at a loose string on his bedspread. Another silence followed, Virgil trying to sniffle as silently as he could. Despite how weird this interaction had been so far, and how slightly awkward it’s gotten, Virgil was honestly just trying to soak in the mere presence of another side while it lasted. He’d never liked being alone for so long. His stomach was starting to hurt for a reason aside from sickness. This sure was a good way to get Roman to leave early, the others were probably right for leaving him alone so far.

Suddenly, Virgil squeezed the blankets in his fist to try and stop a sudden tickle in his throat, the sensation coming out of nowhere. Unfortunately though, his instincts won out just seconds later as he was forced to cough, the sound gargled and gross even when he covered the whole bottom half of his face with his covers. Dammit, dammit, stupid fucking cough. And Roman just got there too. He wasn’t ready for the creative side to leave again yet.

“S- Sorry, sorry ‘bout that. Shit.” He mumbled rather quickly, hoping to by just a few minutes longer of the creative side’s company before it was taken away again for who knows how long. His head felt like it was being split open, no thanks to the effort it took to cough. Who the Hell’s idea was sickness? They should be fired.

Much to his surprise though, when Virgil hesitantly looked up to gauge how put off Roman was by his display, he only saw an overwhelming about of worry, but even more importantly, alarm.

“Apologies, but is this like- normal??” Roman asked with eyes noticeably wider, studying Virgil's pained expression, hunched over posture, the mess of dirty tissues around, and the way the bright numbers of his digital clock on his nightstand was covered carefully, with a washcloth no doubt.

Virgil drew in a deep, slow breath through his nose as he rubbed on his temples to try and alleviate some pain, eyes closed and head tilted down. Roman’s ridiculous questions were just making his headache worse, and honestly he didn’t even understand how the Hell he was so confused. Was this his plan? To come in here and confuse Virgil and his already incapacitated brain? ‘Cause if so, he was doing a brilliant job. “Roman, what the hell are you talking about.”

It came out less like a question, more like a very tired statement, but he was answered with confused stammering, Roman gesturing almost desperately to Virgil and his state. “What do you mean what am I talking about?? Dude, you’re clearly not doing well. I mean, I wasn’t gonna bring it up, but you’re sweating like a sinner in church, you’re covered in a thousand blankets, you were just hacking up a lung and you’re barely able to speak right from, what i’m assuming, is a nose full of mucus!”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. I look like shit, Pr’ncey, enough said.” Virgil snapped, glaring up at Roman and accidentally moving his head up to look at him too fast, sending a flare of agony through his skull. He cursed under his breath and winced, but powered through it even as Roman lifted a hand to- to what, help? It didn’t matter, Virgil moved away from the effort. “No, don’t touch me, alright? I don’t wan’ your pity.”

Virgil knew all of this was coming out more aggressive than he ever would allow if he was feeling himself. Hell, even now he was begging himself to just shut up and stay calm. But after almost 2 full days with no sleep, and 5 days of nonstop pain, coughing, being unable to breath properly, the feeling of fire in his throat every time he tried to eat, and then on top of that, being shunned by the 3 people he wanted- needed, more than anything. Well, he really couldn’t stop his composure from cracking and shattering.

Roman looked ready to respond, seemingly struck with more pity than before, but Virgil’s hand shot up to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it, Princey. Why the Hell are you even here anyway? If you’ve missed me so much, why did you wait 5 f’cking days to come see me? T’ come ‘check on me’? And, by th’ way, so far you’ve really only been fucking with me and making me feel worse, so in reality it probably would ‘ve been better had you just kept up your streak of avoiding me like ev’ryone else!”

Virgil was breathing heavily, head pounding and lungs burning after raising his voice just a bit too much at the end of his rant. He replayed the words back in his mind, heart sinking when he realized how aggressive he’d gotten. He couldn’t slow down his breathing, why couldn’t he slow his breathing?? Jesus christ, he wasn’t about to break down on top of all that other shit he just unleashed. Perfect, he was just proving the other side’s point for them.

With his body now starting to shake, jaw clenched to hold back tears because this week has been bullshit, and he felt like curling up and disappearing, if not to escape his aching body then to at least escape the anger he knew would result from that whole verbal meltdown he just had. Obviously Roman would be leaving, but would he yell first? Tell him how annoying and selfish he was, and how he didn’t get to be a huge asshole just because he was feeling a little under the weather? Or would he leave in silence, just exit the room with that silent, cold anger that Roman only showed when he was really upset.

Maybe he’d tell everyone else what happened, how he’d tried to extend an olive branch, test it out just to see if maybe his illness hadn’t made him into a pathetic prick, but Virgil lashed out as expected and ran him off. Would Logan and Patton get mad at him too? Come in and tell him off for being so horrible to his own family, that he couldn’t even be a decent person for 5 minutes.

Maybe things wouldn’t go back to normal even after he’s recovered, all because he couldn’t just control himself.

“Virgil, what are you talking about?” Roman asked exasperated, and Virgil dragged his hands down his face. He meant to make more of a growl in frustration, but it came out closer to a pained whine. His eyes stung for a new reason now. He just wanted this to stop. Why wouldn’t Roman just stop?

“What. What am I talking about what. I can’t do this- this whole vague shit righ’now, jus’ spit it out.” He hated how short tempered he was sounding, but Roman didn’t seem to be fazed. Virgil could see the Prince waving his hands around in his peripheral, looking tongue tied.

“The- The part where you think i’m fucking with you?? Why you think we’re avoiding you?? Why you’re so-... so….” Roman trailed off, a look of realization crossing his face, which quickly turned to horror and guilt. “Wait a… w-wait a second, Virgil, are you- are you sick??”

To say Roman sounded appalled would be an understatement, his eyes wide in shock, brows drawn, mouth slightly agape. Virgil’s head spun, suddenly dizzy as his brain tried to figure out why Roman sounded so horrified- why he sounded so surprised. He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t understand what was going on. He felt nauseous and he just wanted to sleep. Before he knew it, tears were trekking down his face, thick tears springing from his eyes making the pressure behind them even more unbearable. A sob tore painfully from his throat, instantly catching the Prince’s full attention.

“Oh my… Virgil-“

Virgil shrunk away from the Prince’s voice, curling up once more into a ball, trying to hide from everything. His lip wobbled, he could feel it, but he was too tired to be embarrassed or feel pathetic. He pulled the covers closer around him. “R-Roman, please jus’-“ He hiccuped on a sob, hissed through his teeth as the action sent a sharp pain through his lungs. “I don’ know i-if you’re tryin’ to joke ‘r somethin’, but— but ’s n- not funny, o-okay?”

Instead of speaking clearly at a normal volume, Virgil was nearly mumbling the entire time he was speaking, slurring through words even worse than when the conversation started. Was it just him, or was the room spinning? “Please, i… i need you t’...” Virgil huffed for breath, exhaustion wearing on him like a switch was just suddenly flipped. It nearly took all his energy to try and get a deep breath.

“Ro…”

Virgil was met with a warm, broad chest, and strong arms wrapping around him before he even knew he was slumping forward. His ears were ringing, drowning out what sounded like a familiar voice speaking to him. They sounded distressed, he hoped they were okay. What was combing through his hair? He couldn’t quite remember what was going on before then, but all he knew was, he was safe now.

Then, the world went dark.

———

Virgil came into consciousness a little while later, his brain the kind of blissfully empty that only comes after passing out, apparently. He couldn’t grasp where he was before, existing in a reality where there is no past for a few moments. His head was vaguely aching, like a dull throb faded into the background, and his lungs stung only a little when he breathed in deeply. In his sleepy state though, Virgil didn’t concern himself with those feelings.

Virgil couldn’t see anything, he noticed not long after, but he could hear murmuring and the distant sound of water running.

Next, he realized he knew he wasn’t in his own room anymore, both because this wasn’t his mattress, and the room didn’t smell like his own.

He could smell.. cinnamon… and peaches… and ink. Somewhere in his groggy brain, Virgil recognized the smell, but at the moment it was just out of his reach. It didn’t bother him, though, not when he was so relaxed and calm. He felt like he was one with the bed, and the soft, fluffy sheets encasing him.

A few more seconds of coming to, and Virgil realized his eyes were covered with something damp, and cool… soft too. It felt amazing against his warm skin. oh right, i’m sick, a thought entered his mind gently.

Then, a lot less gently, the events from before he passed out rushed to the forefront of his mind, practically smacking him in the face. Because yes, he’d passed out, right in front of Roman like an idiot, oh shit, why isn’t he in his room, where is he-

“Virgil? Hey woah, calm down buddy- here,” Virgil heard someone quickly cross the room, and tended his body for all of two seconds before the washcloth over his eyes was being lifted.

Virgil blinked blearily, squinting his eyes even though the room was almost completely shrouded in darkness, save for a thin line of light coming from the cracked bathroom door. Someone was sat beside him on the side of the bed, but he was too blurry for Virgil to make out details.

“There you are. Hey Hot Topic, how are you feeling?” the person asked, speaking more gently than anyone had spoken to Virgil in a long time. Strangely though, Virgil wasn’t upset by it. It was.. nice…

Wait a minute, he knew that voice.

“R- Roman..? I.. Where…?” Distantly, Virgil knew he sounded like shit, which meant he probably looked like shit, and directly after asking that half assed question, he realized he had to be in the Princes room. “Oh.. fuckin’- I passed out on you..” he groaned, moving his hands up to scrub the blurriness from his eyes.

It worked, surprisingly, and now that Virgil could see, he realized that yes, Roman was the one sitting next to him, and yes he was in Roman’s room, in Roman’s bed. He also noticed how tossed Roman’s hair was, and the bright red with little snowmen pajamas the Prince wore. They were really adorable.

“Yes, I’m afraid you did.. and I’m also afraid that I am partly to blame for it.” Roman sighed, casting his eyes down as he pressed his lips in a line.

Virgil’s brows drew together, and, because he was so delirious, he reached out to grab gently at Romans sleeve. “How is it your fault that I passed out?” he asked incredulously. At least he could speak properly now. Now? Now since when? Oh geez, “Wait how long have I been out? A few hours? Days? Years?! Did I fall into a coma?!”

The corner of Roman’s lip lifted in amusement, and he gently lay a hand over Virgil’s, on his sleeve. “No, no nothing like that, Dark Knight. It’s only been an hour or so. I.. hope you don’t mind, but I had to bring you in here. Your fever was… really high.” The Prince of Creativity said, solemn by the end.

“I think i’ve managed to get it down, so it’s not so dangerous anymore, but Logan will definitely have to keep an eye on it today.”

That got Virgil's attention. “Wait- Logan? Uh.. yeah, not to burst your bubble Princey, but I doubt that’ll be happening.” There was a slight bitterness to his tone as he wrapped his free arm around his midsection, and though there wasn’t as much bitterness as there usually would be, Roman still picked up on it loud and clear.

He inclined his head, as if in agreement, and Virgil stomach only sunk a little bit before Roman was speaking again.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Virgil. You see, there seems to have been a grave misunderstanding. This is how I’m partially responsible for your passing out, same as Logan and Patton are also partly to blame.”

Virgil’s eyes widened, breath hitching at the sheer ridiculousness of that suggestion. No!! How could it be their fault? He’s the one that got so sick and couldn’t keep himself healthy enough not to fucking pass out. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Roman held up a finger before he could get out a single word, silencing him.

“A few days ago, 5 to be exact, it came to Patton’s attention that you weren’t feeling yourself. He told me and Logan that you told him you weren’t feeling very well, and that we should all give you some space the next few days.” Roman said carefully. Ah yes, that conversation. The one that’s haunted Virgil for nearly a week. Virgil remembered it well.

With a hesitant, still very lost nod from Virgil, Roman continued. “It seems that Patton, and in turn, Logan and I, assumed that your strange behavior was linked to.. well, anxiety.” He gave Virgil’s hand a light squeeze, any sign of a smile gone and replaced with pained regret. The Prince swallowed, just as Virgil pieced it together.

“Because of these more stressful times Thomas is experiencing, we wrongly thought that you were having a rough week, leading to worse anxiety. So… we’ve been leaving you on your own, thinking we were helping you..”

Virgil.. didn’t know what to say. He looked up and found Roman’s red, sorrowful eyes. When he focused, he could see they were just a little bit bloodshot, even in the dark. Proof that he had previously cried, no doubt about this. When Virgil didn’t speak, still too shocked as his slowed brain processes this, Roman continued, quietly choking back a sob just after he averted his gaze to the floor.

“V-Virgil-“ he voice cracked. Virgil’s heart was sinking in his chest. Roman had never looked so heartbroken. “Virgil I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were sick, none of us did! I-I swear I didn’t know, I would have never left you alone if I had, Virgil, Star, i’m so so s-sorry,”

Roman was practically full on crying by that point, though he clearly tried to keep it to himself and stay quiet. Virgil was grateful for the effort, but there were much more important things to focus on at the moment. He may not be completely himself, but he still couldn’t let Roman be so sad.

It was because he wasn’t completely himself that Virgil automatically sat up (taking his time to do so, trying not to upset his head), and leaned himself right against Roman, chest to chest, looping his arms around to loosely hold Princey in a hug.

It all made sense now, why he’d been ignored all week, and why nobody came to check on him or try to help. He felt a little (read: a lot) stupid for thinking that anyone in his famILY would do anything but show him the upmost care and attention when he needed it. They thought they were helping, and honestly, had he in fact been having a bad week of heightened anxiety, giving him space would have been the right thing for them to do.

Roman was quick to return Virgil’s hug, though to his credit, his hug was a lot stronger and more secure than Virgil’s. He buried his face in Virgil’s hair, a steady stream of teary apologies spilling from him. A steady stream that Virgil hastily tried to end.

“Roman, it’s okay… i’m not upset, I promise it’s okay. I know you were doing what you thought would help me. Please don’t cry, Princey.” He said softly.

It might have been a few more minutes, or a few hours, that the two sides sat together in each other’s arms. Roman’s cries and apologies slowly quieted to a stop, though the gentle combing of fingers through Virgil’s hair only continued as they sat.

“Hey… Roman?” Virgil whispered after a few more moments, the whole mindscape quiet, save for the quiet sniffles from both Virgil and Roman every once in a while.

“Yes, sweet Midnight?” came an equally gentle response. Neither side moved, Virgil too content with his face snuggly buried against his counterpart’s shoulder, and Roman too content with having Anxiety safe in his arms.

“Would… well, you can say no, but would you mind.. if I stay in here..? I don’t… really want to be alone…” a hint of Virgil’s usual anxious tendencies showed itself despite the tiredness that was starting to cover the darker side. Instead of head-swimming exhaustion though, this time Virgil felt pleasantly heavy and relaxed.

Without uttering another word, Roman pulled them both down to lay their heads on the pillows, lifting one hand to gently flick his wrist and manipulate the covers around them. The light in the bathroom turned off with a soft click of Roman’s fingers, one that Virgil hardly registered as he shuffled somehow closer to the Prince, still tucked safely in his arms.

As he fell softly and smoothly into the first restful sleep he’s had in days, Virgil noticed that he wasn’t freezing cold anymore. The dull throb in his head had gone away almost entirely, and it felt that much easier to breathe. But most importantly, Virgil felt less alone than he had in a long, long time.

Needless to say, Virgil was feeling better already.

[its-deputy-caleb]

hello! can i have some touch starved micah with a gentle and caring fem or gn reader?? thank you :))

omg yess anon, u can have touch starved micah any day! now ngl its like 3AM and i decided to write these after such a long day so this probs makes no sense and i didn't like the way they turned out at all so i might fix it up later

but still please enjoy this mess and a friendly reminder to anyone that reads this that my rdr requests are still open (but dw there's still more to come) i'm just really enjoying getting back into red dead!!

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

It had been a relatively long night for Micah, or so you’d noticed as you watched him leaning against a tree for almost the entire afternoon and long into the night, just sharpening his knife and mumbling under his breath.

You knew something was bothering him and apart of you couldn’t help but be a little worried and it wasn’t because of the robbery you have with him the next day. No, deep down you had a soft spot for him.

But Micah Bell had his walls up high even around someone like you who is one of the few people he considers a friend. Talking to him, little alone approaching him is more of a challenge than a bet in five finger fillet and you had an inkling that he’d appreciate being alone.

So with a heavy sigh you stood from your place at the campfire, bid the last few remaining members a goodnight and headed towards your tent— there needed to be one of you with at least four hours of sleep, otherwise you’d never be able to pull off this robbery.

As you turned around to close the flaps in your tent, you couldn’t help but notice Micah’s gaze directed at you and it had been since you stood to leave. When your eyes met his own and you gave a soft smile he immediately turned his attention back to the knife and whetstone in his hand, hiding how flustered he was under the brim of his hat.

You waved goodnight to him but of course he didn’t see it, he wouldn’t dare look your way until he knew for certain that you wouldn’t catch him doing so. In all the time you’ve gotten to know Micah, you’ve seen him argue, fight, yell and even flirt with the gang members and total strangers but you’ve never seen him flustered or nervous quite like the way he is with you.

The thought makes you giggle as you settle into bed, you could only guess that he likes you but to say that you hate the idea would be a lie.

-

The next morning you were walking through camp with a cup of coffee in your hand as you went to find Micah and prepare for the coach that was coming in from Annesburg. It wasn’t difficult to find him since he was still leaning against the tree, the only real point of difference was his slightly slumped posture and obvious bags under his eyes.

“Here, I thought you might want this after last night.”

He stares numbly at the cup of coffee you’re holding out for him to take. He seems almost startled out of his thoughts at the first person that’s actually approached him in hours.

“I don’t like coffee.”

“—Half of its filled with whiskey.”

One of Micah’s typical sly smirks comes to rest on his face, one that’s laced with over confidence so that he can put his walls up higher and keep everyone thinking that he’s not trying to downplay whatever’s bothering him.

“You know me too well, sweetheart.”

However, you’re not just anyone and happen to see straight through his charms. When you place the cup in his hand you instantly notice the way he seems to tense up when your hand lightly brushes his. You couldn’t help but think the soft sound that left him was, for lack of a better word...cute.

His hand instinctively reaches forward into you more before pulling away to fiddle with the cup.

“Common now, I need you feeling sharp for this robbery and its a long ride to Annesburg from here.”

The tension leaves him when he realises you’re not going to push for answers or make a scene and he’s clearly comforted by the small smile you’re giving him.

-

The robbery as a whole goes fairly smooth. The coach guards were easy to take down with there being only three of them plus a driver. The issue arrived when the law showed up and there was a hell of a lot more than three.

The coach had been flipped at this point, the horses well and truely bolted but it offered the cover you needed in order to take out the flock of lawman.

Standing beside you, you can’t help notice how Micah seems completely out of it. You’ve seen him at his best, just how well he can shoot during a gunfight. Hell at Blackwater you saw him take out at least twenty pinkertons before you all even made it off the boat. No, the Micah standing beside you could barely even aim straight.

Eventually, the coast is clear— it took a while but the shooting finally stopped and left only silence as Micah went over to crack open the safe containing the payroll.

“Oh shit—“

Before you know what you’re doing, you take three quick steps forward and push Micah as hard as you can against his side. He hits the ground with a loud thud but you don’t stop to think about it as you fire your revolver at the lawman who’d managed to sneak up on you.

You don’t take your finger off the trigger until there’s no more bullets left in the chamber and the lawman is well and truly on the floor. You holster your revolver before turning around and offering an arm out for Micah to take, who is still sitting in the dirt with a stunned look on his face.

“Are you alright?”

You gently hoist him up and squeeze at his hand in hopes that he’ll understand just how worried you are about him right now.

Micah doesn’t give you a verbal response, instead choosing to groan but you didn’t mind, you suspect that his ego took more bullets than the lawman had. That didn’t mean you didn’t miss the way his hand squeezed yours back tightly.

“Oh Jesus, you’re bleeding!”

It seems Micah himself hadn’t even noticed the vibrant red stain of blood on his already dirty white pants.

“It’s just a graze, ain’t nothing to worry about.”

Unfortunately you don’t have time to argue with him about as he’s already loading up the cash onto Baylock before saddling up himself.

“Fine, but yer letting me patch you up when he get back to camp.”

-

To your surprise Micah actually follows you to your tent so you can at least bandage and disinfect the wound but that doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna put up a fuss. It takes you a good ten minutes just to get his pants off so you could clean it and it takes you even longer to place your hands anywhere near him.

“I can wrap my own damned bullet wound!”

You stare at him with an eyebrow raised, watching as he has an internal battle with himself on whether to push you away like he does everyone else, or to cave and let you in.

“Alright then, I’ll leave you to it.”

You decide to call his bluff, placing the bandages on the crate beside your bed before dusting yourself off and standing to leave the tent, only to be stopped by a hand on your wrist. Finally, you see something snap inside him and he sighs, almost defeatedly.

“Please stay…”

You pick the bandages and the old rag back up and sit back down on the edge of the cot. He jumps slightly when your hand is placed on the outside of his upper thigh, just under where the graze has torn the skin.

“Relax Micah, it’s okay.”

Micah is staring up at you with hopeful eyes as he leans on his elbows on the cot. You give him a reassuring smile but he only starts to really relax when your hand moves in slow circles against his thigh.

After the old rag has been drenched in whiskey you, offer him an apology before placing it over the wound to disinfect it. Micah hisses through his teeth and falls flat against the cot, trying not to bite his tongue off at the sharp burning feeling that’s travelling up his leg.

-

When his wound has been properly cleaned and bandaged, you lean forward and take his chin in your hand and guide him to look at you.

“Now was that so bad?”

Your eyes stare into his icy blue ones and you notice just how tired he seems. You decide to make a decision before second guessing yourself and lay down next to him on the cot that’s too small for the two of you to really fit on it.

Nevertheless your arms come to wrap around him in a tight hug. He tenses again but only for a moment before melting into you, exhausting clearly winning out.

Your hand comes to tangle in his hair and gently massage his scalp before placing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Is this why you’ve been acting so off recently?”

Micah nods into your shoulder, more relaxed than ever now that he’s receiving the affection and intimacy he’s been craving for months now. He’ll probably beat himself up later over a bottle of whiskey for being so needy, but right now he couldn’t care less.

“Micah, when was the last time you had a hug?”

Your question is soft, non judgemental as you gently detangle his hair from where there are small knots. This time, there’s no answer and he only sinks further into your arms around him, as if he’s trying to literally avoid the question.

It doesn’t take a genius however to guess how long its been.

“Hey its alright, it doesn’t have to be like that anymore.”

His head comes up from your shoulder instantly, a desperate and hopeful look in his eyes. Your noses are almost touching and you can feel his slightly shaky breathe as he attempts to calm his nerves.

You lean forward slowly and place a soft kiss to lips, feeling him smile against you. His moustache manages to tickle his top lip and you can’t help but giggle which only makes the two of you smile more.

-

That night, Micah finally gets a good night’s rest with his head resting upon your shoulder. He’s lulled off by your hand rubbing slow circles into the back of his neck and soft but frequent forehead kisses.

He’s just about to doze off into a peaceful sleep when he feels you whisper against his skin,

“I love you Micah, just relax and get some sleep now”

The next morning he’ll wake up from one of the best sleeps he’s had in a long time knowing you held him all night.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

rest well my songbird

its @softdarlingjaskier‘s birthday!!! and i have some soft eskier for him!!! a little birdie kings of the bog told me that you like jaskier getting his hands massaged so...without further ado...

__

ship: eskier :) (eskel x jaskier)

warnings: jaskier overworks his hands and eskel takes care of them. lamberts an ass for 1 second in true lambert fashion

words: 1.6k

editing: ye

genre: somfte

__

Jaskier flexed his hands and winced as he put down his lute. Winters offered him more down time than on the road, so he could spend the winter months composing to his heart's content, working on the longer ballads that he often neglected while tagging along on the Path.

The only problem with composing and songwriting non stop was that it made his hands ache terribly.

Between plucking at his lute and gripping his quill, his hands would usually start to protest a month or so into winter. But, as all good songwriters did, he pushed through the pain, willing to continue composing no matter what. He had a reputation to uphold and Witchers to help, after all. He couldn't afford to slack off.

Eskel did not share his views.

Well, neither did Vesemir, Geralt, Lambert and Aiden, but Eskel was the most vocal about it, often plucking the quill or lute from his hands after so many hours and demanding that he rest. Right when he was in the middle of a good line too! Jaskier had lost so many good ideas to Eskel’s forced breaks.

This was the first time though that he had chosen to take a break on his own that winter, and Eskel was on him in a second.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern flowing off of him in waves as he approached Jaskier, who had been sitting the farthest away from the fire. It wasn’t his fault that the fire would dry out his lute!

“Fine,” Jaskier muttered as he struggled to close his bottle of ink. He didn't want Eskel to worry, but he realized perhaps a second too late that Eskel could probably smell the pain coming off of him.

“That’s not true,” Eskel said, seeing through the lie immediately. “Usually I have to force you to take a break.”

He didn't say anything else and Jaskier sighed. Eskel was waiting for him to admit that he was in pain, despite the fact that he already knew.

“My hands,” he whispered, forgetting that he was in a room full of Witchers with enhanced hearing. “They’re stiff, and sore, and cramped. More than usual.” He looked up at a blurry Eskel and it took him a moment to realize that he had been almost crying.

“Yeah no shit they hurt!” Lambert shouted from the couch. “If you keep fucking playing with that damn lute of yours theyre gonna fuckin fall off!”

“Lambert,” Aiden said sternly. “Shut up.”

Jaskier laughed and tried to wipe away his tears with his hands, but winced when his fingers cramped up.

Eskel brushed his hands away and gently wiped away Jaskier’s tears with his thumbs, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“You need to not push yourself so hard, Jaskier,” he whispered, pulling Jaskier’s face against his chest. “You don’t need to spend every single waking second of the winter composing. Winters are supposed to be for relaxing, and you haven't been doing much of that.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier muttered into Eskel’s shirt. He longed to bring his hands up to hug Eskel and reassure him that this was fine, it just happened every so often, but his hands hurt too much. He didn't want them to cramp so hard that they ended up stuck in one position. That was never pleasant.

“No,” Eskel said firmly. “Don’t apologize.”

He tugged Jaskier closer to him, resting his chin on top of his head so that Jaskier was engulfed in the arms of his Witcher. Jaskier inhaled Eskel’s scent deeply. He smelled like he always did in the winters: of wood and musk, chamomile and fresh bread. It was Jaskier’s favorite smell in the world. It meant that his love was well rested and taken care of, healthy for once after a long year on the Path.

Eskel pulled away after a moment and tugged at Jaskier’s upper arm, encouraging him to stand.

“Come here,” he said, his eyes bright with what could only be an idea. And who was Jaskier to say no to him?

He followed Eskel over to the nest of furs that they kept in front of the fire, for puppy piles usually. Eskel directed him to sit down in the nest and then with a stern look not to move, he darted out of the room.  

“What the hell is that sneaky fucker- mmph” Lambert’s insult was cut off by Aiden kissing him on the mouth, likely to get him to shut up.

Geralt sighed and turned a page in his book, but Vesemir, who was sitting on the other side of the fire knitting, regarded them with a fond look before turning to Jaskier.

“I have a salve that you could put on your hands, it’ll help with the cramping,” he said.

“Oh! That’s very kind but-”

Jaskier was cut off by Eskel running back into the room.

“I already got it, Vesemir,” Eskel said, walking back to the nest.

Vesemir smiled knowingly and went back to his knitting.

“C’mere Jaskier,” Eskel said, sitting behind him and tugging one of the furs across Jaskier’s lap. He carefully rolled up the sleeves of Jaskier’s chemise before opening the little tub of salve. “Lean back, relax, you don't have to do any more composing today, or tomorrow, or this whole week. I’m going to take care of you.”

Jaskier was glad that his back was to Eskel because he could feel his cheeks flushing.

Eskel picked up Jaskier’s right hand delicately in his much larger, sword calloused ones. “Let me know if I’m hurting you at any point, okay?”

Jaskier nodded and watched, mesmerized, as Eskel began to rub out the cramps in his hand. He started with his fingers, beginning with his pinky finger, and rubbing out the tensions in each of the joints. It was almost painful at first, but Jaskier soon adjusted to it and found himself craving more.

Once Eskel had worked his way slowly through Jaskier’s fingers, he moved to his palm, taking it in both of his hands and massaging it slowly in small, but firm circles. Jaskier couldn't help the sigh of pleasure that escaped his lips.

“Yes, that’s it,” Eskel murmured. “Just relax, I’ve got you.”

Jaskier let his head drop back against Eskel’s shoulder as he looked out at the room. Lambert and Aiden were bickering over a game of Gwent, passing a bottle of White Gul back and forth between them. Geralt was pretending to read, but every so often his eyes would flick up to the game and he’d mutter sometimes useful hints to Lambert and Aiden.

Jaskier watched them fondly as Eskel moved to his wrist, giving the tendons there extra attention. From there he moved up Jaskier’s forearm to his elbow, massaging his skin carefully.

Jaskier flexed his hand experimentally and was surprised when he discovered that he had definitely more movement than before. But Eskel covered his hand scoldingly.

“No,” he said. “Don't go undoing all of my hard work.”

“Sorry,” Jaskier murmured. “It just felt so nice and-”

“I’m not done yet,” Eskel said, cutting Jaskier off as he dipped his fingers into the salve.

Eskel warmed the salve first in his hands before rubbing it against Jaskier’s skin. And Meliele’s sweet tits, if the massage had been heavenly, this was absolutely divine. Vesemir had been right, the salve was positively wonderful, seemingly wonderful, drawing out the pain from his hands almost instantly. Jaskier couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips.

Eskel laughed lightly, rubbing the salve all over Jaskier’s hands and wrists, even going up his arm a little, before reaching for a few small straight planks of wood and a roll of bandages that he must have grabbed while he was getting the salve.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Jaskier protested. “Just what are you doing with that?”

“You don't want the salve getting everywhere,” Eskel explained. “So it’s best to put the bandage on until it soaks into your skin. And the splint will help keep your hands from cramping and getting stuck in an uncomfortable position while they’re bandaged.”

“But what is a musician without his hands!”

“A resting, healing one,” Eskel said, pressing a light kiss to Jaskier’s nose. “I’ll help you with everything, my songbird. I’m here to take care of you.”

Jaskier pouted but held his hand out to Eskel to bandage. “You better mean that.”

“Of course I do,” Eskel said, wrapping Jaskier’s hand and wrist in bandages first before placing the wood underneath it and arranging his fingers over it before wrapping it in even more bandages. The end result was a bit clunky looking and Jaskier wasn’t crazy about the fact that he wasn't going to be able to use his hands at all, but Eskel had promised that he would take care of him and Jaksier knew that he would deliver.

“See?” Eskel said, placing a kiss to the back of Jaskier’s bandaged hand. “All better.”

Jaskier smiled at his lover's efforts before leaning back against Eskel’s soft chest as he got started on his other hand. He watched his careful ministrations through half lidded eyes before the heat from the fire and the warmth from the furs lulled him into a half asleep state. The only thing keeping him awake was Eskel’s gentle massaging of his hand.

But eventually, Eskel finished, tying off the bandage with another kiss before wrapping his arms around Jaskier.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” Jaskier muttered truthfully. He was tired, but at least his hands didn't ache so fiercely anymore.

Eskel pressed another kiss to his hair and laid back, tugging Jaskier until he was resting his head on his chest, and wrapped a fur around the two of them.

“I’ll wake you in a few hours to take the bandages off,” Eskel murmured into his ear. “But until then, rest well my songbird.”

And Jaskier did. He fell asleep to the gentle roar of the crackling fire, to Lambert and Aiden’s drunken bickering, and to Eskel’s steady heartbeat under his ear.

__

happyyyestttt of birthdayssss to peterrrrrr

tag list: hmu if you want on or off

@percy-jackson-is-sexy-

@barlowpng

@eminasan

@llamasdumpsterfire

@nonegenderleftpain

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde

@geekymagicalpotato

@jaskierswolf

@toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account

@toss-a-coin-to-your-lesbian

@littleredhotridinghood

@fontegagrilledcheese

@acemoppet

@lookatgeraltmyboi

@gods-oopsie-woopsie​

@julek

@funkylittlebard

@dani-dandelino

@officerjennie

@kuripon

@alllthequeenshorses

@mothmanismyuncle

@dapandapod

[hangovercurse]

Past Mistakes

Y/N and Dom broke up 8 months ago, but now he’s back on her doorstep with flowers in his hand

Dom x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I might make a (smutty) part 2 to this if any of you want it... Also let’s just say this took place in 2020 because I needed a non-Covid world for plot points :)

Word Count: 1860

The first two months after Dom left were probably the hardest of your life. You barely ate, you barely slept, and other than going to classes you barely ever left your house. You threw yourself into your classwork, studying for hours on end and working constantly. Anything not to think about him.

The next few months, you got better. You started to move on, accepting that he was no longer a part of your life, at least not like he was. You started to go out with your friends more, started taking better care of yourself. 

After 5 months, he reached out to you, in a text. 

I know I have no right to ask you this, and you have no obligation to respond, but you’ve always been my number one supporter. I’m having a bit of trouble at the moment and could really use a friend. I was hoping we could get that back? Just friends.

It was... disappointing. Even though you swore up and down you were moving on, you couldn’t shake how upset you were. You’d secretly always hoped the next time he reached out to you would be him asking for forgiveness, to be taken back. 

But you supposed friends couldn’t hurt. 

Just friends

You responded. And everything seemed to be normal. 

Apparently, “just friends” meant random texts and snapchats from Dom about the places he would go when he was on tour, his random midnight thoughts about the universe and dinosaurs, and comforting him when his insecurities overwhelmed him. He, of course, returned the favor, though you were more than hesitant to break down any walls for him. 

Part of you was glad he’d broken things off before going on tour. You would be stuck in your small town while he was in a different city every night. Your newfound friendship was hard enough as it is given the time differences and the fact that you could only see him through a phone screen. You honestly couldn’t imagine pining for him while you stayed at home, even though you kind of did that for the first few months anyways.

So that was how life had been for the last 8 months. Once you’d gotten your shit together, you and Dom had a steady friendship over facetime for 6 months. You were still in school, Dom was still touring and making music. You were both as happy as you could be in that moment.

Or at least you were. 

It had only taken Dom three days to realize how badly he’d fucked up. Well, he knew before he’d even broken up with you that it would hurt. But sitting at the airport, wanting nothing more than to text you, he realized how bad this tour would be without you waiting for him at home. 

But he couldn’t put you through that heartache, it would be selfish of him. He thought if he’d let you go, you wouldn’t have to be upset when he couldn’t be with you for 8 months. But after 2 months of hell, Adam finally convinced him he needed to reach out to you. Even just as friends. 

But truthfully, after 6 months of that, he didn’t know how much longer he could stay friends. He missed holding you while watching movies, missed you bringing him tea when he was writing, missed showing up at your flat at 3 in the morning just to dance around your house. He missed your lips, your skin, your eyes. The way you reached for him first thing after you’d woken up, how you would drag him out of bed to go for a late night adventure, how your eyes would shine when he surprised you with a cute gift or date. 

And you couldn’t say you didn’t miss him too. You’d tried going out with the people your friends set you up with, but no one compared to Dom. No one understood you like him. As silly as it sounded when you’d say it to yourself, you were pretty sure you were made for each other. You’d never find anyone to compare to him. And maybe that’s why “just friends” stung so much.

You were sat on your sofa, laptop in front of you, working on an assignment to keep your mind off the fact that it was Friday night and all of your friends were out on dates and you were on your sofa, doing schoolwork. 

Your plan was working surprisingly well, until you finished said assignment. Then you were just left to sit and wallow in your own self pity, wishing anyone were there to cuddle and kiss. Well, maybe not anyone. 

Eventually, you decided a movie would be a good distraction from your thoughts, so you pulled up Netflix on your TV, scrolling through the movie selection. As you landed on Princess and the Frog, there was a knock on your door. 

You raised your eyebrow slightly, curious as to who might be at your door this late. Nevertheless you trudged over to the door in your oversized sweatpants and ripped up Guns n’ Roses shirt. 

You opened the door to reveal a bouquet of pink and black roses in the hands of none other than your ex-boyfriend-turned-friend, Dominic Harrison. 

When he saw you in person for the first time in 8 months, he could only stare, taking in all of your beauty. Every feature was so familiar to him, yet so changed. And every second he spent on your doorstep, taking you in, he fell even more back in love with you. 

You didn’t know what to think. You would have never in a million years expected him to show up at your door with flowers. And pink and black flowers at that. Your mutual favorite colors. 

Finally, he gained the courage to speak, “Hey, Y/N.” He was trying his hardest not to stutter as he extended his arm with the flowers, handing them to you. 

You took the flowers, a small smile making its way on your face. “Um, hey Dom. What’s up?” You were finding it hard to look at his face, worried that if you did you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from kissing him. 

“I was hoping we could talk?” You nodded, moving out of the doorway to let him walk into your small living room. 

Your eyes followed his back, taking in every detail of him as you could. You couldn’t help but think about how natural he looked in your flat, how at home he was. 

You snapped out of your thoughts as he turned to face you. You closed the door and followed him into the room. “It’s good to see you again. Like, in real life.” You told the truth, seeing him in your flat was like a breath of fresh air after the fog of the last 8 months. 

“Can I be honest with you?” He asked, taking you aback. Your mind started running through every possible thing he might want to say to you. 

“You can always be honest with me.” You told him, trying to maintain a calm facade, though underneath you were freaking out. 

What if he wants to tell me that being friends was a mistake? What if he thinks our relationship was a mistake? Maybe he is only still friends with me because he feels bad for me.

“Ok, there’s no way to say this any other way so I’m just gonna go for it.” He took a deep breath, “I’m still in love with you.”

He paused, gauging your reaction. You felt as if every cell in your body froze. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d wanted him to say those words. 

“I never really stopped, if I’m honest. I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you since I left.” 

You seemed to come back to your senses, a blush reaching your face as you glanced down to your feet and back up to meet his eyes. “I- um” You started.

“I know you probably don’t feel the same thing and I don’t blame you I just couldn’t keep living without telling you that.” Dom interrupted, speaking faster out of nervousness. He had begun to pace around the living room, something you had seen many times before.

“Dom, I-”

“God I was so stupid to let you go. I thought it would help me miss you less while I was away but I’ve just missed you more.” He ran a hand through his hair, and you couldn’t help the smile on your face. 

“Dominic, can I talk please?” You chuckled as he turned to face you, stopping in his tracks. The look on his face was so soft and scared. You realized how much he still cared for you and how scared he was to lose you.

“Dom, I never stopped loving you either, dork.” You walked over to him, placing the flowers on your coffee table and grabbing his hands. 

His eyes went wide at your touch and he looked down at his feet, occasionally glancing up to your interlocked hands. “I, um, I thought you would hate me...”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you,” you whispered, “I was hurt at first, like really. I was a mess.” You chuckled, remembering the many nights spent crying in your bed. “But I never hated you. And when you texted me I just- I dunno. It hurt that all you wanted was friends but I couldn’t live without you in my life. I know it sounds cheesy and shit but like, I never stopped wanting you to come back to me.”

At some point in your spiel, Dom looked up at you, a smile growing on his face. Your eyes finally met and it was like something clicked. Like all the feelings that you had been repressing from the last 8 months were finally surfacing. 

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. Instead of responding, you lifted yourself onto your toes and connected your lips to his. His hands moved to grab your waist, leaning down into the kiss. Your hands travelled to his chest, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other continuing up to his neck. 

Your lips melded with his in the most natural way, almost like you’d never taken a break from each other. 

Once you pulled away you nuzzled your face into his chest, taking in the familiar smell of Dom. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you moved your hands to wrap around his middle. “I missed you.” You mumble into his shirt before looking up to him again. “Don’t leave me again.” You whispered, “please?” 

He leaned down, rubbing your nose with his. “I won’t, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your lips as you smiled against him. 

“Can we watch Princess and the Frog now?” He asked with a chuckle. “I saw it on when I came in and its been on my mind since.” 

You giggled, nodding as you pulled him down onto your couch, cuddling up to him and pressing play.