#just launch your problems into space or marry them off

[strangewomanactuallylargebass]

While the Madagascar timeline can be a mess at times, it's so funny to me when they actually try to make the timeline make sense but it just comes completely out of left field. Like in MALW, the two chimps Pickles and Dave had been supporting characters throughout the whole series, but there had been no sign of Mason and Phil. How did they solve this problem, then? In the final episode, Pickles and Dave were put in a rocket and launched into space for 20 years. And in AHKJ, they spend the final four episodes just getting rid of all the villains and other supporting characters that weren't present in the original film (i.e. Karl moves to Florida, Uncle King Julien runs off with Zora, Clover marries Sage and moves to the other side of the island, etc.). Don't even get me started on the comics, because there is a whole lot of stuff going on in there.

[dreamgirllz]

Infatuated

Author note: HII yes I know it’s been about a month 🗿 forgive me… this is very tooth rotting 😍

Tanjiro(you work for lady tomoya)

-zenistu(you're a slayer he met on a mission alone)

-inosuke(you're a slayer he met)(And yes he has had character development with the help of tanjiro)

Tanjiro-

After lady tomoya's first place was destroyed she moved safely to another one. Tanjiro would visit sometimes. Before tanjiro even met you he fell in love with your scent. He didn't know he was smelling you but he'd find himself smiling as he thought of a lovely spring day. That's what the fragrance reminded him of.

Your scent lingered around the mansion even though you were working outside bringing lady tomoya things for experiments.

You two finally met when tomoya called you in to meet tanjiro. As soon as you two made eye contact his cheeks went a pretty pink.

"Oh hello l'm taniro and this is my sister nezuko!" He walks to you shyly reaching to shake your hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, I must be heading back now." You said leaving, lady tomoya starts explaining things to him about his sister.

But he was Infatuated. Yushiro hit tanjiro's head, "how dare you space out as lady tomoya is speaking?! Are you crazy!" Tomoya laughed and told yushiro to calm down, which he did immediately. "I'm so sorry! I don't know what got over me! I'll pay attention more." He said giving his famous sweet smile. "You can always visit tanjiro, she always busy. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't mind some help. Tomoya clearly knew what was going on. "R-right, I'll see when I have some time off."

Even though tanjiro was a busy slayer he always tried to make time, cramming things in just to spend a few hours talking to you. He's just so good to you, you better return the sweet boys feelings.(or else 🤭🔪)

Zenistu-

We all know any girl that passes zenistu he's head over heels trying to marry her. But after encountering you there was no way he was going to go up to any other girl.

Zenistu was on a mission alone, of course against his will. In his mind he's thinking why they give him a demon this hard! In reality he wasn't really trying. He was too busy just running for his life.

Zenitsu caught your eye as you saw a yellow man running through the woods. In the directions you came from. Then you saw the demon chasing him, you run behind them obviously to save him. The yellow boy runs into the tree, possibly getting a concussion. The demon reaches out to strike him as he screams loudly. You sever the demons head off saving the boy just in time.

"Woah!! Did you see that I almost died! These slayers are going to cause my death before can get close to getting a wife!!!" He screeched through out the woods, you rolled your eyes.

"Aren't you a slayer? Why are you running from a lowly demon like that?" You said reaching into your pocket pulling out bandages. He went dead silent after hearing your angelic voice. You wrap his head up to stop the bleeding on his forehead. "Your so quiet now? Is there something wrong, It doesn't look like you lost a lot of blood just yet." He stared up at your facial features in a Infatuated way. "Are you married?" He asked in a soft tone, you shook your head no. "What makes you say that?!" He shot up from the ground, "THAT GIVES ME A CHANCE!!! PLEASE BE MY WIFE PLEASE!!!!"

He chased you through the woods begging over and over again for you to marry him. (Good luck 🥱)

Inosuke-

Inosuke was on a mission to the mountains to slay a demon who's been giving other passing slayers problems.

He marched up the mountain looking for the demon but instead finding you on the ground shivering really bad. He couldn't tell if you were a man or a girl. The demon came out of nowhere trying to launch a silent attack.

"HAHA! You thought I would fall for that lame slow attack." Of course he did taunt the demon...

He fought the demon for about 5 minutes with out a scratch on his body. * that was way to easy! I want more!" Then he remembered that he found a slayer not to long ago. He went back to the area, and threw you over his shoulders; running down the mountain. The ride was bumpy and definitely very uncomfortable. As soon as he met the forest floor he dropped you on the floor. "Ah! What the." your eyes shot open making eye contact with a pig man on top of you looking down. You thought it was a demon but you realized it wasn't. "Are you a slayer? Where's a your shirt it's freezing out here." He laughed loudly, "the strongest slayer doesn't need a shirt! I'm too cool for one! Don't think I saved you because I care!" It was hard to understand, but you knew he was spewing nonsense. "Don't worry I wasn't planning on saying thank you anyways" you say struggling to get up. "Your welcome! What? I saved your life praise me girl! Banjiro said I have to save people it's a good thing or whatever. Praise me, I'm your god!" You collapse from the cold, "hey this is no place for sleeping wake up! Oh." he finally realizes you were freezing to death.

He took off the fur from around his waist when covered you with it. He then took you in his arms and headed to a near by abandoned house.

You wake up in the house and look around, wondering where you were. "Woah! This is the second best nirichin l've seen. Of course mine is the first best one!" He said examining your blade. You breathe out feeling relieved. "So you actually dragged me here?" You asked looking up at him, "duh! Who else is that amazing!?" "Woah you carried me here all by yourself, you must be the strongest man alive." You joked, but he didn't see it as sarcasm. He doesn't know what sarcasm is.. His heart got tight in his chest.

"You think so. he asked sitting down by you.

"Yes definitely", you lay back down laughing. He just spaced out looking in your direction. He didn't understand he was feeling Infatuated.

Not many people at all have anything nice to say to him other than tanjiro. Even if you were being sarcastic he took it seriously. (Please a sarcastic and passive y/n would be so perfect for inosuke.)

[falling-pages]

Bend the Knee: Kyoya x Reader

Thanks @ouranbound for the idea <3

-

“I fear I’ve been so busy planning our future that I did not give time to notice how they were exploiting your present."

-

Sometimes Kyoya's betrothed needs help adjusting from their commoner life to one of splendor.

-

Kyoya Ootori x gn! Reader

Genre: Fluff, established relationship, arranged marriage, Commoner! Reader

Warnings: None

-

“Quit.”

“What?”

“Quit. You complain about that job every night, so just resign.”

You sit up on the couch, gasping to even begin to make the young heir understand how preposterous his words were. He barely even noticed, just kept his eyes glued to his novel as you were having a crisis. Just another normal Tuesday in this household. “I can’t quit just like that, without two weeks’ notice.”

“The other employees did.”

“But I’m their best,” you scramble, “I can’t bail while they’re still looking for two more people.”

Kyoya scoffed, licking his fingertip and turning a page. “Is that how they treat their best? Overworked and underpaid? They don’t sound like very good bosses to me.”

“It’s not that, it’s…”

It was that. It was exactly that, which made his smug smile all the more frustrating, igniting that fire under your nails to just punch his lights out. But then you’d have to admit it’s bothering you, and he would win, and even though you were engaged to marry this man, you just couldn’t have that.

You ran your hands through your hair, dropping back down onto the couch. His office futon wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, perhaps to discourage relaxation during work hours, but it’s what you dealt with in order to spend time with him in the evenings, a change you would certainly implement once your name was on the deed and in the will--a revamp of his working space was imperative.

But you supposed you couldn’t complain. It was your little life together, where he manages a multi-billion dollar empire and you whine about your job, where he pretends to not pay attention while you spill your guts. What was the sense in commenting when he knew you wouldn’t take his advice?

“I’ve worked hard for this position,” you settle on, closing your eyes and letting your brain do the work. “I’ve climbed the ladder and gotten promotions and I used to feel so important, and it isn’t my dream job, sure, but I’ve enjoyed the process.”

“Then it’s time to move on to something different,” he suggests, and his tone is softer than usual, though still careful to sound detached. “You know I have more than enough money to provide for you and our family someday. Is that not enough?”

You open your eyes when the voice sounds closer, right above you, and you see him kneeling down beside you on the couch. You start to sit up, but he pushes you back down, helping you stretch out your spine, shake out the stresses in your limbs. And when he takes your hand, drawing his long fingers over the arch of your wrist and against your palm, you were startled to see him at eye-level.

Kyoya Ootori bent his knee to no one except you, and only once, when he slipped that pretty gold ring on your finger. But here where you lay, your faces were on the same level, and you felt like an equal.

“The world I come from isn’t black and white, Kyoya,” you say, as he strokes the back of your knuckles. Such tenderness was seldom seen from him, but you revel in it, grasp onto it with dirty fists and brazen recklessness. To have him so attentive to your needs and listening to you was rare. It was a privilege, a standard you would soon be held to, as well. “To be just...launched into fame because my dad won the lottery is hard, I still need to adjust. It can all be gone in a second, so I can’t just drop something. I can’t...sever the safety net. They need me to keep the place afloat, and even as tough as it has been, I can’t leave on such bad terms. They need me. Just for a little bit longer.”

He sighs your name like the afterthought of a prayer, settling his other hand beside you on the couch. His fingers dig into every indentation, as if joining your discovery of its stiff cushions. The sheen in his glasses signaled he’d look into it, but there were more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

He remained silent, odd for a man with all the answers, but he continued to look at you, not like he was trying to drill a hole through your head, but like you were a puzzle he was just beginning to figure out.

“Have I really been so absent, my love?” he whispered, raising his hand to your face. One finger stroked along your cheek, slowly, lulling you into peace. “I fear I’ve been so busy planning our future that I did not give time to notice how they were exploiting your present. Please, forgive me.”

All of the air was knocked out of your chest as his gentle words, so soft that you almost didn’t recognize him. When your parents betrothed you, and when you fell in love with him, agreed to marry him, even, you knew that he would always be an Ootori, with every string attached. You were ready for the challenge, ready to be with this man no matter what--but his sudden kindness was unexpected, the poetic words unfamiliar in your ears.

“Kyo, you think I wouldn’t forgive you?” you ask, taking off his glasses.

He let you, and when you set them on the nearby stand, his dark eyes glittered with something you had never seen before. Deeper than love, deeper than compassion, a feral protectiveness mixed with sadness skating across his face. It was so rare you saw him without this shield of his, you had almost forgotten how his eyes were like galaxies, like the murky night sky, expansive, swallowing everything in its path.

“If I had been suffering so, I wouldn’t forgive my partner had they not noticed,” he said.

“I’m not suffering...”

“Mmm-mm.” He shuttered your lips closed with his finger, and you couldn’t help but return the affection and press a kiss to it. He smiled, softly, and you thought about how long it had been since you had seen that smile, and how long it had been since he’s seen yours, too.

“I know I’m not the best at expressing my feelings,” he said, and when you snorted, he rolled his eyes and leaned away. “See, this is exactly why.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, giggling. The feeling was foreign in the pit of your chest, drumming near your spine. “I’m sorry. Please, continue.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, softly wiping where you had kissed him, a repetitive, soothing motion. “I’m not the best at expressing my feelings. I’ve been raised to think that if you throw money at something, it will go away. It’s a powerful position to hold, knowing you can change everyone’s fates on a whim, but…” he swallowed, breaking eye contact, and you felt his energy shift into something vulnerable. “But you changed that. You make me feel...you make me feel. And at first I didn’t like it. I loved you, but I didn’t like what you did to me. I didn’t like how you made my world shift off-balance, until I realized my world was no longer my family’s company or stocks or what other stiffs thought of me. It was you.”

You tried to lean up and kiss him, but he grabbed your hands and held them in his own. “Please, let me finish, I want...I want you to know. We’ve been betrothed for so long, but I’d like to think we were only truly engaged when I bowed to you with that ring.”

“Okay,” you breathed, shallowly, taking it in, squeezing his hands to help him along.

“Because that took everything in me,” he continued, and his voice shook, his hands shook, and all you wanted was to gather him in your arms and hold him till he relaxed. “I was raised as a superior, but I’m not. Not with you. You are my equal, and I love you, and there’s no future with us if I can’t look beyond my own problems to see yours.”

Your stomach quelled in light of his confession. The life of luxury and fame you had so recently come to know was a blur compared to his childhood swathed in privilege. Only six years ago you were waiting tables to save up for college when your dad bought a lottery ticket for the hell of it. Now you were attending charity balls and engaged to the son of the richest man on earth.

He took a shaky breath and kissed your forehead, seeming to only find the courage once his lips met your skin.

“I notice. I swear I do,” he said. “I tried to act disinterested when you vent to me because it was a protection, it was a way to stay cold, because that was all I ever saw from my mother and father. They were separate people who happened to live in the same house. That’s not us. I’m not my father. I swear I notice. I notice your tired eyes and your tense shoulders and your fake smile and I want to fix it, but I don’t know how, so I clam up. I shut down. And I’m sorry. I truly am, my darling. I don’t know how you put up with me.”

It was an absolute miracle that you could even breathe at the end of his speech, panting almost as heavily as he was. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, this time he didn’t object, but pulled you even closer, shrouding your body with his, his sharp scent overwhelming your senses, clouding the air around you, even when there was no distance between you. His mouth was hot with passion, yet reserved, and though it wasn’t the first time you kissed, it was the first time you thought he meant it when he told you he loved you.

“Kyoya, I love you,” you whisper against his lips. “I have for so long. I wouldn’t have stayed with you if I didn’t, no matter what our parents said.” He laughed, nipping your bottom lip lightly. “And I don’t want you to change for me. You’re under so much pressure, I understand why you act like you do. But our home isn’t Wall Street. My heart isn’t some business bargaining chip. You don’t need to fight your nature to love me. It’s one and the same.” One of his tears splashes down onto your face. “So just see me. Love me. Choose to be vulnerable. I promise it won’t scare me off.”

“I will. I promise.”

He kissed you again, burning his brand against your tongue, hard like a handshake to know he meant it. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, like you were breathing the same air, using the same lungs, the same heart beating in tandem.

When you let go, his forehead remained pressed against yours. His eyes were slightly open, watching you, eyelashes fluttering against your skin. He was so soft, like this. You wanted to hold him forever.

“Come to bed with me,” you whisper, trailing a hand through his hair. “I just want to spend time with you.”

He kissed your forehead, rubbing his nose against yours in compliance. “I’ll spend all the time in the world with you, beloved,” he sighed, capturing your lips once more. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

-

Kofi

[freddie-weaselbee]

Stupid//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Underaged drinking, drunk characters, Fred has a problem in his pants, undressing someone, one lil dirty joke, one horrible dad joke

Summary: Y/N decides to let loose one night at a Gryffindor party, making a slightly less drunk Fred resort to being her babysitter and hearing some confessions that sober Y/N would never dare say.

Prompts: Getting Drunk Together with dialogue prompts “I think I forgot how to breath,” and “were you dreaming of me again?”

Word Count: 1.8k just a lil shorty

A/N: Day 4 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge -- WAIT GUYS THIS ONE’S ACTUALLY LIKE ONE OF MY FAVS --

“Freddie catch me!” You launched yourself off the back of the velvet couch in the Gryffindor Common Room, arms and legs spread wide like you were a flying squirrel. Fred, who had his back turned to your antics, saw you right before your feet left the couch and he dove frantically toward you, catching you right before you would’ve broken your nose on the floor. “Again!”

Fred chuckled and continued to hold you much to your dismay. “I need to keep a better eye on you, don’t I?”

“Put me down!” you said, squirming in his hold. Fred decided to give you what you wanted, so he placed you down on the couch. And then he sat right on top of you. 

“Fred!” Your voice was muffled by his jumper, which you were now trying to spit out of your mouth. “Let me out, let me out you big stupid.”

“Oh I’m the big stupid?” he asked mockingly. “You almost just killed yourself for the third time tonight. I knew letting you get this wasted was a dumb idea.”

“T’was also your dumb idea,” you said, still trying to push him off of you to no avail. 

Fred glanced around the common room at who was still left. After the Quidditch match earlier and a great win for Gryffindor, Fred and George had thrown the best party that Hogwarts had ever seen, with music and food and dancing. And, of course, lots and lots of firewhisky. 

Most of the festivities had died down about an hour ago and only a handful of people remained downstairs, most either too wasted to move or babysitting those who were too wasted to move. Fred got the honor of being one of those babysitters.

He realized that he had probably pinned you down for long enough and he moved to let you have your space. You sat up gasping for air, wrapping your hands around your neck and leaning from side to side.

“I think I forgot how to breathe.”

Fred rolled his eyes and moved closer to you, grabbing your hands in his and removing them from your neck, placing them on your lap instead.  

“C’mon, stupid, it’s not that hard. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

You tried to do what he said but ended up doubling over in a coughing fit, small tufts from his jumper coming out of your mouth. 

“Bloody hell, did you inhale my jumper?!”

You giggled bashfully before sticking almost your entire hand in your mouth, pulling out a long thread and gagging in the process. 

“You’re disgusting,” he said, grabbing a nearby napkin to clean off your spit-covered hand. 

You stuck out your hand as if going in for a handshake. “Hi disgusting, I’m dad.”

“That’s not even how that joke works, dummy.” He wiped you down, grimacing as some of the spit got on his hand. Fred was not sober enough to deal with this. Earlier, when you had told him you’d never really been drunk before, only tipsy, Fred thought that tonight would be the perfect night to have you let loose if you wanted to. He promised he’d watch you and take care of his friend, which is why you finally let yourself go and had a wild time. Unfortunately, Fred had never been the responsible one before and you were good at being sneaky, so you had a lot more alcohol than he would have liked. 

His head buzzed with the firewhisky burning inside him, wishing he would’ve decided to stay sober instead of taking a handful of shots. But you just looked like you were having so much fun out there on the dance floor and he figured a few wouldn’t hurt. Now the both of you were drunk and only one of you knew how to handle their alcohol. The other now had their head laying in their best friend’s crotch. 

“Y/N!” he hissed, hoping no one was looking at the two of you, but they were all either too drunk or too distracted to notice. “Get up, what is your head doing down there?”

“You’re soft,” you said, snuggling into his lower half. 

He quickly lifted your head and put it on a pillow, grabbing another to hide a growing problem where your nose had just been. “Yeah, that’s definitely not true,” he said, laughing quietly at his own joke. He shifted for a few seconds before deeming it ok for him to stand. 

It was getting late, and Fred knew that you were already going to have a rough morning, so he’d better get you to bed as quickly as possible. 

“Alright, love, let’s--”

He cut himself off when he looked back down at you lying on the couch, completely asleep. He sighed but smiled warmly, wondering where all of the energy you had minutes ago just went. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

He reached down to pick you up, carrying you bridal style to your prefect dorm. He walked ever-so-slowly, stumbling a bit from his intoxication but determined to make sure you got back safe. After effectively ascending the stairs (thank Godric he and George had found a way past the no boys allowed charm years ago) and getting to your private room, he laid you down gently and grabbed a t-shirt and shorts for you to change into. 

He was crouched down and digging through your drawers when he heard your small voice whisper. “Freddie, I love you Freddie.”

He grabbed the clothes and sat next to you, seeing that you were still asleep. “Hey,” he said softly, shaking you awake. You swatted him away a few times before allowing yourself to open your eyes. 

“Were you dreaming of me again?” he teased. He grabbed you under your armpits and lifted your torso up, gesturing for you to put your hands in the air. You did, using all of your strength to keep you from toppling over. 

“Mhmm,” you said. “I was dreaming of you and me, and how much I love you.”

You elongated the word love, saying it in a singsong voice and bringing a smile to Fred’s face as he lifted your old shirt over your head. “I love you too, stupid, your my bestest friend.”

All of a sudden you were shaking your head, looking annoyed and angry. “No, I love you. Like love love.”

“Uh huh,” Fred replied, brain not working fast enough to catch onto what you meant. “I love love you too. Now help me get this shirt on.”

You hphmed crossly and pulled the shirt over your head. “You’re the stupid, Mr. Big Stupid. I love love love you. In my dream, you were there and you kissed me! Like this.”

You leaned forward and planted a big sloppy kiss onto Fred’s lips, immediately slumping forward into his shoulder. It took him a couple of seconds to realize what had just happened, but before he could say anything you started talking again. 

“You kissed me, then you told me how you loved me too, and how I was your favorite person in the whole wide world, even more than Georgie!” You suddenly gasped, covering your mouth with your hand. “Don’t tell Georgie I said that, I love him so much, he can’t know that I want you to love me more than him. Don’t tell, ok?” You seemed as though you were going to cry from what you had just confessed to Fred. 

“I won’t, I won’t, I pinky swear,” Fred said quickly, thrusting his pinky into your face. You frown washed away and was replaced with a gleeful smile as you shook his pinky, sealing your promise. 

“Good, I don’t want George to hate us.”

Fred pulled you into his arms and stood you up slowly, grabbing the shorts he had picked out for you. “Ok, can you take your shorts off for me please? You need to put on new ones.”

Nodding, you reached for the pants but tried to put them on over the skirt you were already wearing. 

“No no no, not like that.” Fred sighed in exasperation and decided that had had to help you with this too. “Ok hold still.”

He sunk to his knees in front of you, one hand firm on your waist in order to keep you from falling. Trying to avoid looking as much as possible, Fred fumbled around the waistband of your skirt and pulled it down, leaving you standing in only your shirt and panties. He tried not to look, but his drunk brain was making it really hard for him to control his eyes. He had you step forward into the pant legs and pulled them up nice and snug around your waist, hoping he hadn’t done anything that he shouldn’t have during the encounter. 

“Thanks love,” you slurred, falling immediately back onto the bed. “Wanna kiss me again? Like you did in my dream?”

Fred plopped down next to you, letting his fingers play with your hair as you cuddled up on your side. “Yeah, I do. But not tonight, ok? We’re both a little crazy tonight aren’t we?”

“We’re both a little stupid”

“No, we’re big stupids. Mr. and Mrs. Big Stupid.”

You laughed loudly rolling over a few times and almost falling off the bed before Fred caught you. “I wanna be your Mrs. Can I be your Mrs., Freddie? Pretty pretty please?”

He snickered, pulling the blanket up over the both of you. Staying the night would probably be for the best, especially since you didn’t have anyone else in the dorm to take care of you. “Of course, you’ll be Mrs. Freddie Big Stupid, how does that sound.”

You clapped your hands smiling into your pillow. “I’m gonna marry you. And we’re gonna have the biggest bestest wedding ever. And everyone’s gonna be there. Oh no, but we have to go on a date first. We’ve never been on a date.” You pouted. 

Fred put a finger to his chin, thinking. “How about tomorrow night we go on a date. I can take you on a beautiful picnic and we’ll watch the sun set and then you can kiss me again like you did tonight. Sound good stupid?”

“Hmm,” you said, voice trailing off as sleep threatened to overtake you again. “That sounds perfect.”

Fred bit his lip, trying to hold back a loud whoop of joy. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back into him. 

“Freddie?” you asked quietly. “Am I gonna remember this tomorrow?”

He laughed and nuzzled his head into your hair, happier than he had been in a long long time. “Probably not. But I will, and I’ll make sure to remind you.”

“Okie dokie, g’night Big Stupid.”

“G’night Big Stupid. See you in the morning.”

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Winter Sunshine

Haley (Stardew Valley) x They/Them Reader

A/N: As far as warnings go, the only thing that may not be your cup of tea are the suggestive themes in the last bit of the fic like, last couple sentences. Nothing explicit. Hope you enjoy! Also I’m adding word counts now because it's even a surprise to me how much I’m actually writing on the tiny screen of my phone lol. Word Count: 1,672

“This better be worth it.” Haley grumbled to herself as she trudged through the slushy snow. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself did nothing to fight back the bone chilling wind that burned her nose and cheeks, relentlessly blowing her hair into a tangled mess and undoing the hour long efforts to make it look nice for her farmer.

“It’s their fault I’m out here in the first place. If they have a problem with my hair, I’ll tackle them to the ground and give them a whitewashing they’ll never forget,” Haley told herself. In previous winters, nothing could make Haley leave the warmth of the home she shared with her sister. The snow while admittedly charming, somewhat romantic, did not impress Haley at all. Not when it meant she would have to freeze her ass off. There was no beach combing or sunflowers in winter, ice cream lost its appeal, and her photography suffered because again, it was too cold! Mittens made her clumsy, Haley would hate to lose her camera in a snowbank. Even with her mittens, her fingers felt frozen. It simply wasn’t worth it. But for her farmer, she would brave the ice and snow just to see their stupid, cute, face.

It was only five in the evening, but the sun was already good as gone. The faint glow of (Y/n)’s porch light helped guide Haley through the frigid fields, her boots finally clomped onto the the solid steps of the porch. She stomped her feet to kick the snow free from her boots, thuds resonated off of the sturdy wood.

The noise stirred movement from inside the house. The front door swung open revealing the farmer, looking, in Haley’s humble opinion, overly enthusiastic.

“Haley, you made it!” (Y/n) grinned, stepping out of the warm house and closing the door behind them much to Haley’s dismay.

“What are you doing? You aren’t even wearing a coat, it’s freezing!” Haley scolded, wrapping her arms around the farmer for no other reason than to keep them warm. No ulterior motives here.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be plenty warm where we’re going. So, you think you can walk a couple dozen more yards?” (Y/n) asked, fixing a couple of Haley’s stray hairs.

“Ugh, if I must.” Haley groaned.

“You don’t have to. We could just head inside right now and have warm tea and cuddles. Far be it from me to tell you what you have to do,” (Y/n) laughed and Haley rolled her eyes.

“Let’s just go already. If I have to stand here any longer I’m going to lose my finger and toes to frostbite.” Haley bounded off down the steps, nearly falling backwards after she hit a patch of ice. Luckily (Y/n) caught her, smiling down at the blonde in their arms, they helped her regain her footing and took her hand.

“This way,” they said. (Y/n) would have loved to tease Haley with some cheesy line about falling in love and the like, but Haley’s patience was already running thin. Best not to comment on the close call and just take it in stride.

(Y/n) guided Haley to the opposite end of the farm, becoming more excited with every step, earning a look from their companion that was equal parts suspicious and amused.

“Where are we even going?” Haley asked.

“You’ll see. Almost there. If you look ahead, you might see it.”

Haley squinted against the darkness and sure enough, she saw a large building looming just ahead.

“I can’t believe it. Did you commission Robin to build another barn?” Haley asked, incredulously.

“Not quite!” (Y/n) chirped.

“You have wayyy to much free time on your hands now that winter is in full swing. Just what have you been up to?”

(Y/n) didn’t answer, instead picking up the pace and tugging Haley closer. Ignoring Haley’s complaints until they stood in front of the large glass building.

“Whoa,” Haley breathed out once she finally caught her breath. “How did you manage this?” She asked, not disguising the awe in her voice.

“Let’s just say I got a little help from some friends,” They shrugged, “Do you like it?”

“You didn’t just drag me further out in the cold to look at the outside of a greenhouse did you?” Haley asked. “Let me in and I’ll think about giving you an answer.”

“Alright, you drive a hard bargain.” (Y/n) nodded. “But could you do something for me first?”

“You’re stalling. It’s winter and I’m dying of cold, and you’re stalling.” Haley stated dramatically. “Hey!”

(Y/n) laughed and pulled Haley’s knitted hat over her eyes. They took Haley’s hands before she could pull it back up and give (Y/n) a piece of her mind.

“Come on, just for a second, I promise.” (Y/n) swore. Haley scoffed and allowed herself to be tugged forward.

Haley heard the door open and she couldn’t help the relieved sigh that escaped her lips as a humid warmth enveloped her body. (Y/n) led her further into the space, then let go of her. They quickly moved behind Haley to shut the door then came back to hug Haley from behind.

“Okay, you can look now.” (Y/n) said. Haley could detect a slight tremor in their voice as they spoke against her ear. Were they nervous? Why?

Haley pushed her hat back and blinked, rubbing her eyes over the harsh brightness of the lights. (Y/n) must have turned them on. Once she regained her sight, Haley’s eyes blew wide at the sight before her.

“(Y/n), oh my Yoba!” Haley gasped.

“Surprise! Do you like them?” (Y/n) asked, wringing their hands.

Haley turned to look at them, her features painted with ecstatic disbelief. “Are you kidding? I love them!” Haley smiled so brightly (Y/n) couldn’t help but match her enthusiasm full heartedly. “I mean, sunflowers, growing in the dead of winter. It’s amazing!”

Haley turned away from (Y/n) again and walked up to the nearest sunflower, growing just as well as it would have on any normal summer or fall day. She touched its petals gingerly and felt its warmth work its way through her very soul. How had she been so lucky to find someone as attentive and endlessly sweet as the farmer behind her?

She felt the arms snake around her again and she eagerly held them to her stomach, anything to show how much this gesture meant to her.

“I’ve been thinking about you and winter a lot lately. You’re right in saying that the season gives me quite a bit of free time.” (Y/n) spoke in a soft tone resting their chin on Haley’s shoulder. “And I thought that maybe, this could give you something to look forward to when the snow and ice have got you down.”

Haley turned in (Y/n)’s arms and wrapped her own over (Y/n)’s shoulders, clasping her hands behind their neck. “I love it, I really do and I love you too, so much. Yoba, how am I ever going to get you something even close to this!” She whined, burying her face in the farmer’s chest.

“Haley, just having you here to share this with is more than enough for me,” (Y/n)’s voice wavered again and Haley looked into their eyes.

“(Y/n), what’s wrong? Why are you so nervous?”

“I also had another idea of how to make winter special for us. Something that would help you have memories to look back on fondly every winter. I’m just-“ they took a deep breath, “man, I was so ready this morning but now that the time is finally here-“

Haley silenced (Y/n) with a kiss. It was chaste, quick, but it helped (Y/n) ground themself.

“Come on, you’ve fought monsters in the deepest, darkest parts of the mines from here to the Calico Desert. You shouldn’t be scared of your own girlfriend.” Haley giggled good naturedly, earning a chuckle from (Y/n) as well.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” (Y/n) simpered. They stepped out of Haley’s hold and reached into their shirt pocket. Withdrawing their fist, they presented it to Haley who analyzed the closed fingers intently. “Haley, in the dead of winter, where all is cold and dark, will you become my warmth, my light, will you marry me?” (Y/n) opened their clenched fist and Haley’s hands flew to her mouth as the bright blue pendant was revealed.

“(Y/n)!” Haley cried, her voice muffled by her gloved hands. “Yes, I’ll marry you!” She lunged forward, grasping (Y/n)’s back for dear life and buried her face in their neck.

“Really?” (Y/n) sniffled holding Haley just as tightly.

“Of course! Nothing would make me happier!” Haley asserted, pulling away just a hair, “Please help me put it on.” She frantically took off her scarf, mittens, coat, and hat, throwing them off to the side. Then she turned away from (Y/n) and held her tangled hair up, allowing her newly betrothed to slip their hands through her arms and secure the pendant around her neck. Haley turned the shell in her hand and laughed breathlessly. She turned and launched herself back into (Y/n)’s arms for a kiss much more involved than the last.

“I love you,” Haley said again, holding (Y/n)’s face in her hands, a small, mischievous smile gracing her lips. She pulled away from (Y/n) and much to the other’s confusion, she walked backwards into the tall sunflower stalks until (Y/n) couldn’t see her.

“Haley?” (Y/n) called after a moment of silence. Somewhere from the back of the greenhouse, (Y/n) could see a shirt get tossed into the air before fluttering back down into the dense vegetation and they couldn’t help but laugh. “Wouldn’t you rather do this back at the house?”

“We’d have to go outside first, by the time we got back I might not be feeling so generous.” Came the faint reply.

(Y/n) watched as another article of clothing was thrown upward and swallowed thickly. They grabbed Haley’s winter coat from the floor and darted into the crops, following the sound of giggles and rustling leaves.

[omgrachwrites]

A Welcome Visit - Sam Wilson

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Torres!Reader

Summary: You and your son get a surprise visit from your favourite superhero, making you feel like you’re in high school all over again.

Warnings: fluff, swearing

Words: 1455

A/N: How good is the falcon and the winter soldier though?! I haven’t had the chance to watch the new episode yet! Torres is the cutest, I love him! Hope you guys enjoy this and please let me know what you think, I love you all! xxx

The diner was quiet today, for which you were eternally grateful, one of the waitresses had called in sick so it was just you and two other waitresses in, it was supposed to be your day off. You had owned this diner with your ex-husband, you two had been on the verge of a getting a divorce when he was taken by the blip. When he returned a few months ago it was clear that it wasn’t going to work so you mutually parted ways. Now, the most you saw of him was when he visited your son, James and took him every other weekend.

You smiled as middle school sized footsteps thudded against the floor as James ran from the back to where you were standing behind the counter. You kissed James on the cheek as you ruffled a hand through his curls, laughing when he scowled and poured himself some soda.

“Homework done?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, “you know the rules, no soda until you’ve finished your homework,” you smiled as you folded your arms, leaning against the counter.

James rolled his eyes, “yes mom,” he sighed, like you had asked him the same question a hundred times. James glanced over to the door as it opened and he gasped as his jaw went slack before he beamed at you, “mom look,” he lowered his excited voice, “it’s The Falcon! He’s so cool!” there was nothing but pure awe on his face, “can I go and say hello?”

Sure enough, Sam Wilson aka, The Falcon walked in, in all his handsome glory as he took a seat at one of the booths. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, you felt as star struck as your son but for a completely different reason. The waitress that you were on shift with wandered over to him to take his order, and you turned back to James who gave you a strange look when he saw the blush on your face.

“No sweetie, the poor man has just sat down; let him have his food in peace.”

James pouted as he began to sulk, shaking his head. You didn’t know Sam personally but he worked for the air force along with your brother, Joaquin. He had been as excited as James when he realised that Sam was going to be working with him. A couple more customers came in and sat at the counter, you chatted with them as you prepared their coffee.

You glanced up when you heard the little bell above the door tinkle and in walked your brother with a wide grin on his face as he went to sit with Sam. Had they just completed a mission together?

“Uncle!” James shouted with glee and before you could stop him, he rushed around the counter and launched himself into Joaquin’s arms. You winced with a sigh; you had wanted Sam to have some peace as he ate his dinner.

“There he is! My favourite little man, you alright? Where’s your mom?” at the mention of you, you ducked behind the coffee machine, your cheeks blazing.

James muttered something that you couldn’t make out, no matter how much you strained to hear it. Unfortunately, you heard the reactions; you heard Joaquin burst out into peals of laughter while Sam let out a deep laugh that made you feel all warm and tingly inside. Despite yourself, you leaned around the side of the coffee machine to see what was going on.

Joaquin had his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with laughter while Sam smiled and raised an eyebrow as he looked over towards you and grinned. You flushed and offered him a small smile, you seriously wanted to know what James had said to them.

“James!” you called over with wide eyes.

James pouted as he got up from his seat, turning back to look at Sam, “will you please sign my comic book, Mr Wilson?” he asked, at least he was polite.

“Sure, little man,” Same beamed and James excitedly ran into the back.

Joaquin followed James, smirking at you; you stopped Joaquin with a hand on his arm, “what the fuck did James say?”

Joaquin didn’t answer, he only winked at you as he walked past you, whistling all the way, you glared after him, feeling annoyed. You bit your lip and decided to offer some coffee to Sam as a peace offering. Nervously, you wandered over to him, willing the flush on your cheeks to go away as you filled up his cup.

“I’m really sorry about that by the way,” you smiled, “my son doesn’t understand personal space.”

Sam laughed as he gave you a warm smile, “thank you, and it’s no problem. He seems like a great kid.”

You flushed with pride as you ducked your head, “even so, it must get annoying after a while.”

Sam looked puzzled as he shook his head, “I’m still getting used to it, I still can’t believe they’ve made a damned comic book.”

You giggled, “yeah, it came out a couple of years after the blip, everyone thought that you were a real hero,” you flushed when Sam grinned at you, “your comic books are James’ favourite, I’m kind of jealous.”

Sam smiled, shaking his head as he sipped some of his coffee, “they should make comic books about you, don’t you run this place and look after James by yourself?”

Normally, you wouldn’t talk about this with someone you hardly knew, but Sam was so handsome and kind that you couldn’t stop the words spilling from your lips, “it’s not so bad, Joaquin, Torres to you,” you laughed, “helps out where he can and James’ dad isn’t too bad, he’s a good dad.”

“Well, I think it’s really great, Y/N. You should be proud that you’ve raised such a good kid.”

“I think you’re great too you know,” you blurted out, feeling heat wash over you as Sam smirked, raising an eyebrow as you immediately started to babble, “I mean, being a hero, the fact that you’re a hero is great.”

You laughed nervously as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and before you could say anything else, James was running back with his comic book in hand and he gave you a strange look. You had the sneaking suspicion that he and Joaquin had been watching your interaction with Sam; you glared at your younger brother as he threw an arm around your shoulders.

“This is my favourite issue!” James beamed as he passed Sam the comic book.

Sam smiled as he raised an eyebrow at the cover, “damn, I’m gonna have to start reading these,” he muttered as he opened the front page and started to sign it. He was writing for a little while, it looked like he was writing a little message for James, “there you go, buddy.”

When Sam slid the comic book back over to James, James grinned as he read the little message, his face glowing; “thank you so much!” it was so amazing to see him so happy.

“You’re welcome bud!”

“Thanks Sam,” you smiled at him and he nodded, winking at you. You bit your lip and looked back at the counter to see your employees smirking at you, “I’m sorry, I should get back to work,” you smiled, fiddling with your fingers.

“Of course,” Sam nodded.

“See ya later, sis,” Joaquin grinned at you as you made your way back to the counter and glared at your employees playfully to keep them quiet.

All afternoon, you kept sneaking glances at Sam, he was so gorgeous as he laughed with your brother but what you didn’t notice was the fact that Sam kept stealing glances at you too. When it was time for Sam and your brother to leave, Sam walked up to the counter with a grin that made your heart flutter and he paid his bill with one of the other waitresses.

“It was good to meet you, Y/N,” he smiled.

You blushed as you nodded, biting your lip, “it was nice to meet you too, Sam. Thank you so much for being so great with James.”

Sam shook his head with a smile, “it’s not a problem at all,” he slipped you a piece of paper and you blushed when you realised it was his number. You weren’t exactly ready for another relationship too soon but you were going to call him.

“Call me,” he grinned before heading back to Joaquin, “let’s go, Torres,” he glanced at you over his shoulder.

Joaquin threw his hands up in the air, “dude, my sister? Really?”

“You really need to marry him, mom,” James sighed.

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

@smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black​

[docholligay]

Please rant/rave (well, we already know which one it will be here) about Harry Potter!

GEE I HOPE THIS WAS WORTH WAITING FOR

OH MY GOD. The level of hatred I have for Harry Fucking Goddamn Potter, the culture around Harry Fucking Potter, extending its poisonous tentacles even to the concept of young adult fiction, fantasy, and the United Kingdom as a country and people. 

When you being on this, you may think, “Oh, Doc will explain that Harry Potter sucks because JKR hates trans women” and I will say, oh no, dear reader, that is a fantastic reason to hate the author, and I really suggest we all continue to hate her, and perhaps not purchase the QUEEN’S TONNES of officially licensed merchandise and movies and theme parks that give her stupid little fucking hands all that cash, but no, that is not why I hate the work. There are a number of great works done by terrible people, and the further out the lens of history gets the truer this is. 

I hate Harry Potter because it fucking sucks, and mentally stifled an entire fucking generation. 

“Well, Doc, Harry Potter was really there for me when--” Oh my god I could not fucking care LESS about your personal emotion connection to “orphan wizard boy turns out to be a rich aristocrat yet somehow less woke than Cinderella though” I have personally emotional connections to hot fucking garbage pails of media properties, and if someone came barreling through talking about the myriad ways in which they were horrible, I would be like, “Oh, you aren’t fucking wrong, pal” 

Harry Potter gained wild ass popularity in part due to its magnificent sorting system of Smart, Brave, Evil, and Other, because there’s nothing liberals like more than being able to put everyone’s personality into an easily labeled box, which is why astrology is so popular, or for the intellectuals, Myers-Briggs, which is just as fake but with the veneer of science. This allowed people to give into the tribalism they so desperately liked to pretend they did not possess, and also allow them to write thinkpieces about “The misunderstood Hufflepuff” or “Slytherins aren’t all bad!” or really anything that allows them to write a very real piece about their very imagined oppression for being a part of a totally fake house in a children’s book. Excellent use of your sociology degree, Kai, I thought the addition of phrases like, ‘Content of socialization” and “axes of oppression” really spoke to the struggles you face when wearing a green and silver scarf. 

The other reason it became popular is that it’s essentially wallpaper paste formed into characters. I have read all of the books, and I could not tell you even remotely what Harry’s defining personality traits are other than “protagonist”. In American, at least, a large part of it was the fascination with all things British, with the idea of boarding school and prefects and uniforms that aren’t inexplicably chinos and polo shirts for nine year olds. It allowed children to project onto something so bland that it could be anything. And for children, THAT’S FINE. There is a great deal of bland media made for children, but what I’m speaking to is the fandom, which is largely well over the age of 18. 

Because if we look at the books, are they...actually good? Was it good, or did I experience it as a child? I mean, honestly, on a literary level, are they, or was it just like we all watched Friends, we did it because everyone else was doing it, because I have a distinct memory of a series that involves such greats as “magical geegaws with poorly defined rules that are quickly forgotten despite being able to solve later problems quickly” or “Everyone loves Harry or is a bad guy, or secretly loved Harry all along” 

Oh, speaking of, man, if this was an actual well-written book, wouldn’t it have been wild to have Snape’s whole thing be to teach us that sometimes people do good things for the wrong reasons? Instead of naming your fucking child after the guy who ‘protected you’ because he still wanted to bone your mom? “After all this time” “Always.” 

While all this could have been explained, we have Quidditch added into the mix instead because 20 pages of the goddamn Puppy Bowl is exactly what I was looking for while I was waiting for JK to move the goddamn ball on literally any of these actual magical concepts. 

Harry Potter is a fucking trust fund baby, star quarterback, who grows up to be a cop and marries his high school sweetheart. (Speaking of, why were we shocked that JKR turned out to be a piece of shit when this was and always has been the conclusion of Harry Potter? Why are liberals so fucking into this series that upholds structures like it ain’t no one’s business? It’s a series that opines that those beneath us “Muggles” should be kept in the dark from us) Literally, he finds out he is a wizard and has a dragon-guarded fucking VAULT OF CASH. At 11. It’s such a series for little tyrants, you are special from birth and need do nothing to prove it, here is a letter certifying as such. Oh, not only are you rich and the greatest seeker and have excellent quips, but also your parents were not only rebels, but the best of rebels, and so deeply involved that your parents were killed by the big bad personally, again, because you are so special. His mother’s love literally saves his ass over and over again, because he was SO SPECIAL. He fought Voldemort FROM THE BEGINNING, and WON.  It’s literally the most privilege baby fantasy in the world. 

“But Doooooooooooc, it’s for chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiildren” 

A) Yeah, and you’re 32, you’re making my fucking point about Harry Potter setting an entire generation up for intellectual failure to launch. 

B) Okay, and? I can think of a bunch of kids’ books off the top of my head that in no way require specialness to be given by birth so as to roll out the red carpet for master protagonist. The Hunger Games. Watership Down. A Series of Unfortunate Events. The Chronicles of FUCKING NARNIA, about which I have only a small handful of particularly kind things to say. I’ve never read Percy Jackson, but it’s my understanding that despite his being a literal demigod, the attitudes of the supporting cast are allowed to fall between the extremes of “Appreciates Percy” and “naughty or will learn” Harry does nothing to improve himself even after knowing that he is HUNTED BY THE BIG BAD! “I won’t do this because I don’t like Snape”. So There” which, again, if this series were written with the slightest bit of care or know-how, could be a humbling fucking plot point! BUT NO THAT WOULD BE NAUGHTY. 

But the real reason I hate Harry Potter so much has everything to do with the fandom surrounding it, and how it intellectually stunted a generation of adults. The promise of Harry Potter was that it was supposed to make a new generation of readers, and so the popularity of them was pushed, and so there was discussion of teaching them in schools, but I tell you fucking what, I know a whole lot more folks who grew up reading Harry Potter that never advanced beyond reading YA, or even just rereading the entire series every year and that’s pretty much them done and dusted. 

In the attempt to recapture whatever it was about Harry Potter that attracted children (A lot of it was your peers doing it. I read them all as they came out, and it was literally the equivalent of watching the game so you could talk at the water cooler. That was never going to be recaptured) people, who by this time were likely in their teens, kept getting recommended stuff at the same and same level. No one ever felt pushed to read things that are challenging, to read things that have some of the concepts or themes of Harry Potter but maybe complicate. I know FAR more adults who read adult books that aren’t into Harry Potter, even if they were as children, than the reverse. 

But Doc, why is reading only books meant for 14 year olds a problem??? I mean I suppose I can’t convince you that comfort is not the job of literature or of life, it is the job of an easy chair, because Americans especially are decadent as fuck about being comfy cozy all the time and if anything causes them distress or pain it should be immediately avoided. But Maybe I can convince you that you’re fucking up these books for actual ass children who deserve to have their own writing section without adults bringing their fucking asses into it. They deserve their own spaces. There’s a number of YA editors who have talked about the difficult space YA now occupies because since Potter’s blowup, it’s no longer a niche category, but basically “adult easy reads” and so they have been buying books that are more about the tastes of adult buyers than of literal 14 year olds. 

Is that not...sad? To anyone else? Honestly, and this is not part of the essay because it’s a broader reaching problem, but CHILDREN’S MEDIA IS NOT FOR US. CHILDREN’S MEDIA IS NOT FOR US. CHILDREN’S MEDIA IS FOR FUCKING CHILDREN. The fucking 40-23 set really needs to get their shit together and grow up a little bit and engage in some fucking adult media, and maybe, if we support what we’re actually looking for FOR ADULTS, it will come to us. No one is saying you can’t read Harry Potter or watch some Cartoon Network show, but like, search your heart and come the fuck on. Engage in something more complex. If not for yourselves, for the kids getting shoved into simplified adult stories. It should not be about us. 

ANYWAY, my larger point is that it was Harry Potter, a badly written series about a magical boy who was chosen and magic and also rich and also a favorite of the headmaster and also more clever than most adults and also spoke the same magical snake language as the big bad and was also star quarterback, but at least there was a system in which you could buy a scarf in block colors and feel like you belonged to a team. 

(But not a sports team! lol handegg! I’m cool I don’t get into sports! Except Quidditch.) 

[fandomsonrequests]

christmas with ateez (maknae line)

reader: gn!, m!, f!

notes: some cussing. read the hyung line >> here  happy holidays everyone!

san

It was Christmas morning and everyone knew what that meant— gift opening time. Well, it wasn’t actually morning, it was more like early afternoon. But you and San didn’t care, you weren’t going to be late for anything so why not sleep in for a while? Anyways, you both deserved it.

San was practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of being able to give you your gift. Yours on the other hand was wrapped up neatly and tucked away in your jeans pocket. You smile to yourself, trying not to give away your own excitement. 

You were pulled away from your own thoughts when you felt something large but light plop onto your lap, making Byeol (who was on your lap) scamper away by your feet instead. You gawk at the size of the gift, it was almost as big as your whole body. You stared up in pleasant surprise at San who only beamed at you, his cheeks flushed and dimpled. 

“Merry Christmas _____!” He greets you, and leans in to kiss you. It was full of teeth and smiled but neither of you minded. “Go on, open it.” 

You put the gift in between your legs and opened the wrapper carefully, letting out a gasp. A little backstory— you and San met at a plushie store, aiming for the same one before letting him take it in exchange for a coffee date the next week. You were both stuffed doll enthusiasts; so you were filled with joy and gratitude when you pulled out a rather large unicorn stuffed toy.

It was one you wanted when you passed by a plushie store but couldn’t get due to the lack of time. It was soft to the touch and silky, making you squeal in delight. “Oh my God, San— I love it!” You lunge at him, pressing kisses all over his face. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, laughing along with you. “I’m glad you like it, baby.” He muses. 

Now it was your turn to bring out your gifts. You pick up a small package from under the tree and call for Byeol. San raised a curious brow at you but said nothing, watching as the cat jumped onto your lap and purred when you started scratching behind her ear.

“How come she listens to you more than me?” He pouts when his cat basically bathes in your affection, making you giggle. 

You shrug, unsure of why she prefers to listen to you. “This is for the little cutie. I’ll give you yours after you open up hers.” You tell him, the grin never leaving your face.

Once again, your boyfriend gives you a curious look before opening the gift to see a cat-sized sweater perfect for Byeol. “Oh it’s so cute! Byeol look what they got you.” He cooed to the feline who pawed at the sweater curiously. You two struggled a little to put it onto her but manage to do so. The both of you give a successful cheer when she makes no move to remove it from her body. 

While San was distracted with taking photos of the cat, you stood up, pulling out a small box from your pocket. You knelt down in front of San and curled your throat, managing to get his attention. He turned to you with a puzzled look before it melted into one of shock after seeing the position you were in and the velvet box in your hand.

“_____,” He gasps, wide eyes glazing over with tears that were threatening to spill. 

“San,” You breathe out. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes _______ I’ll marry you—“ He says, unable to hold back the tears while you laugh gently. 

“I haven’t even said anything yet..!” You protest playfully but move to slip the ring onto his finger. 

“Well either way I’d still say yes..!”

San takes a moment to admire the engagement ring, seeing the simple jewel on top of it glint from the afternoon sun. He practically throws himself onto you, crying happily into your shoulder before pulling away to give you a deep kiss. It was wet and salty— but you could feel the way he poured all his gratitude and love and passion into it. 

You reach up to brush away his tears, leaning your forehead against his. “I love you so much San.” 

“I love you more, _____.”

mingi

“Chunghee, Mingi— look at the camera!” You call over to your fiancé and your brother. 

The two boys turn their attention from their snowboards and sleds and towards the camera you had pointed at them. They strike a silly but cute pose, waiting for you to take the photo before asking you to take another one. You indulge in their request, snapping a few more photos before letting them do their thing. 

You, Mingi, and your younger brother decided to enjoy the snow for a bit. And what better way to do that than going to a ski resort? It was only for a few days but still- you were surprised, to say the least, when Mingi presented you with the confirmation email of your stay from the ski resort. 

“Alright bud, just don’t hesitate. It’s a lot like skateboarding— only on the snow.” You hear your fiancé tell Chunghee as he prepares to snowboard down a small hill. 

You beam at your brother and give him a good luck pat to his shoulder. “You got this. We believe in you.”

“Okay, yeah I got this. Easy peasy— no big deal.” 

Your brother inhales and takes a deep breath before pushing off and going down the hill. You and Mingi cheer excitedly when he manages to slide down without toppling over, the both of you jumping up and down. Your brother beamed up at the both of you, giving you two a thumbs up. 

“HELL YEAH CHUNGHEE!!” Mingi hollers, his grin so wide that his eyes turn into small crescents. He turns to you this time, his smile shifting into something more mischievous. 

You know what the smile means and you shake your head, backing up from the man. “Mingi, no—“

“I haven’t even said anything..!” He protests as he advances towards you. 

But before you could run, he lunges at you and pulls you right into his arms. He kisses your cheek before blowing a raspberry onto your skin, making you laugh. You try to wriggle out of his arms, arguing that Chunghee was waiting for him at the foot of the incline. But that doesn’t work because he was tugging you towards a rather large circular sled.

“Just this once, I’ll be behind you. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Mingi says, brushing away a bit of snow that fell to your hair. “Promise.” 

You glanced over to the sled with cheesy Christmas patterns painted onto the side. You hear Chunghee calling out for the both of you, particularly the way he was cheering you on. “C’mon, _____! If I can do it so can you!” 

“See? It’s no big deal.” Mingi adds as he was already settling into the back of the sled.

He pats the space in front of him, the dorky smile never leaving his face. You chew the inside of your cheek before relenting, releasing a defeated sigh. “Fine,” You whine as you settle into the spot in front of your fiancé. 

You immediately feel his arms wrap around your waist, tugging you closer to him. You settle your hand over one of his much larger ones, and squeeze them in gratitude. He starts to push the sled forward with his other hand before calling out to the teenage boy waiting for you. “Get ready to film their reaction!” He tells them. 

“Mingi wh-aAAAHHHH” Your sentence is interrupted as he launches off, the both of you sledding down the hill.

The wind rushes through your ears and you could feel the icy air brush past your face. You hear Mingi’s excited whoops and cheers as you descend. You on the other hand were yelling out of surprise and adrenaline. Sooner or later you reach the bottom of the hill where Chunghee was rushing to you, phone in hand. You couldn’t process what he was saying, the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest and the blood pumping filling your senses.

Your fiancé gently shook your shoulders, looking over at you. “You okay baby?” He asks you with a giggle. 

“Y-Yeah,” You reply as you stand on shaky legs. Your brother hugs you tight, telling you how he was proud of you for braving that hill. Mingi joined in a couple of moments later. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” The older male says as he pecks your cheek. “We’re so proud of you.”

“You wanna go again?” Chunghee asks. 

You look up at the top of the hill where you came from, seeing that the drop wasn’t as big as you thought it was. Your lips slowly form into a determined grin. “Alright, lets do this again.”

wooyoung

“Honey, no offense but what the fuckis that?” Wooyoung asks in slight horror when he sees your runny icing batter. 

You sigh in slight frustration and drop the large spoon into the bowl, wiping your hands on the apron around your waist. “I knew it, I knew something went wrong.”

Your boyfriend only chuckled, shaking his head. You see, the two of you thought it would be a great idea to bake a gingerbread house from scratch. Granted, you two got a fairly popular recipe from the internet but it’s the effort that counts. And for a while, things were going great. The gingerbread pieces came out alright and we’re cooling down on the trays.

It was the icing that was supposed to hold them that was the problem. Wooyoung was tasked with the cookie people and house pieces, as well as some other parts to add to it, while you were tasked with the icing. Unlike your boyfriend, you weren’t blessed with much skills in the kitchen. Which is why you left the cooking to him and you were stuck on cleanup duty.

“Okay baby boy don’t panic,” he tells you as he grabs some of the powdered sugar to add to the icing in order to thicken it. 

He looks up to see you by the side with a small pout on your lips, causing him to laugh and hug you. He nuzzled into your cheek when one of your arms came up to wrap around his waist, pressing a kiss to your jaw before leaning in to give you a proper one. “Don’t be sad, you actually did well for a first try.” He mumbles against your lips, pecking them one last time before pulling away completely to continue mixing the icing. 

“That’s a biased answer,” You argue as you clean up the kitchen counter, curiously poking at the gingerbread pieces. “You’re only saying that ‘cos you’re dating me.”

“What? No, no, no, I’m being genuine.” He refutes as he sets down the spoon once he was done mixing the icing. “Now help me dye this icing.”

You waddled over to him and nuzzled into his neck, hugging him from behind and placing a sweet kiss to his cheek. “What would I do without you..?”

“Burn this whole kitchen down probably,” He teases as he basks in your affection. He pulls you back towards him with his adorable high-pitched laugh when you throw him an unamused glare and detach yourself from him. “I’m kidding, don’t give me that look.”

He turns around and wraps his arms around your neck, your own going around his waist. He leaned his forehead against yours and nuzzled your nose with his. “I’m proud of you _____. Thank you for doing this with me.”

You couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that, closing the gap between you two for a short but sweet kiss. You grin into it, him doing the same, bursting into another bout of giggles when your fingers tickle his sides. He begs you to stop, saying that one of you could knock over the food, and successfully pries your wriggling digits away from him. 

“Come on, this gingerbread family needs a house built for them.”

jongho

“Areum, can you open the door please?” You call out to your teenage sister who was brooding on the couch, phone in hand.** **

She sighs heavily, irritation clear in her tone. You couldn’t really blame her- she did go through an ugly breakup this season. One that was done over the phone when she caught her boyfriend cheating on her with a good friend of yours. You tried your best as an older sister to get her cheered up. One of these attempts was calling your boyfriend Jongho over. The two practically adored each other, so hopefully being around each other would lift her spirits. 

Areum’s gloomy face brightened significantly when she saw her future brother-in-law(strike that) your boyfriend behind the door. “Hey,” She greeted him with a hug who reciprocated it. 

He ruffled her hair and stepped in when she allowed him in. “Why the long face, kiddo?” He asks. 

“Its Jack; he cheated on me with Winny _and _dumped me over the phone.” Areum sighs as she sits down on the couch beside him. 

You soon join the two on the couch as she pours her heart away to him. You’d occasionally provide some information, supporting your sister’s story. By the end of her story, tears were slowly trickling down her cheeks. Jongho reached up to gently brush them away, hand traveling down to her shoulder and offering a supportive squeeze. 

“What do you say that we put into the snow and get your mind off of it?” He suggested and looked over to you, eyes silently asking if it was okay. 

“That sounds like a good idea,” You add and nudge your sister with your elbow. “Wanna have a snowball fight? Us against Jongho?” 

The said man gave a whine of protest, successfully eliciting a soft chuckle from Areum. She sniffles and brushes away the rest of her tears. “Alright- get ready to lose big guy.” 

You told the pair to go on ahead, tossing Areum her gloves, coat, and scarf. Jongho makes small talk with her when he notices her suddenly stop mid-sentence and freeze. He saw that her haze was elsewhere and followed it all the way to a teenage boy with a girl on his arms. It didn’t take long for him to realize that the guy must’ve been her boyfriend. He looked back to Areum who had fresh tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

His heart clenched at the sight and a quiet rage was lit inside of him. Jongho leaned down to grab a fistful of snow, compacting it into a tight ball before catching your sister’s attention. “Hey Areum, watch this.” He smiles, a bit devilishly, before chucking the snowball towards the boy.

Splat. 

The snowball hits the poor kid straight in the face. This causes Areum to snort out in laughter. She decided to partake in the fun, allowing Jack and Winny’s momentary confusion to give her a chance to make a couple of snowballs, throwing it at the two of them. Sooner or later, you and Jongho were tossing a merciless volley of snowballs at the two, making them whine in protest. 

“C’mon man what the fuck???” Jack yelled in annoyance. 

“You’re lucky that’s all you get for messing with my baby sister!” Jongho yelled back and stepped aside to allow Areum to throw another ball at him.

You rush outside to see the commotion. The sight was funny, seeing the younger couple be hit relentlessly, but the pacifist in you told you that it was too much. “Okay, okay- you two they got the message.” You laugh as you stop them, looking back to the others to see them dusting the snow off their clothes. “God, you guys really let them have it.” 

You manage to calm the two down, steering them away from the cheaters when Jack called out. “Yeah that’s right- get your bitch ass sister to protect you..!” 

The insult makes you stop in your tracks, the cheery disposition dissipating. Without another word, Areum grins and hands you a snowball which you gladly took. And before Jack knew what had happened, you threw the ball right at him, hitting him directly in the face and causing him to fall back into the snow. Areum and Jongho let out an excited whoop. 

“You wanna say that again?!” You ask, moving to gather more balls.

Winny, being sensible enough, tugged Jack away before the three of you could chase them away. You three share a laugh, watching as the pair run away like cowards. Serves them right. 

“You ladies are deadly,” Jongho muses. 

Areum couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s why you’re so into my sister. That’s your type.” She chuckles. But before Jongho could quip back, she had already tossed a ball at him, followed by you throwing another one. 

He laughs, baring his cute gummy smile. “Alright- you two asked for it.” 

You and Areum squeal in delight as he chases the two of you around, volleys of snowballs being exchanged. Sure the day started off glum, but at least now it could end with joy paired with the warmth of hot chocolate that was soon to come.

[unbridgeabledistances]

Prompt: About the 87% scene. Could you write about Mickey lying about having a "boyfriend" when he was in Mexico. And telling Ian that afterall he didn't have his whole Heart because of that "boyfriend". Ian realizing that the way he said those things weren'te the best. Then the confrontation, they talk about it and are cute with one another

anon i am CRYING mickey would 1000% do this!!! why did the writers not make this happen

(actually i’m glad they didn’t, bc these boys don’t need any more drama)

here’s my take (since we all need a little gallavich before the next episode!), hope u enjoy<3

--

“I guess everyone I’ve been with gets a little piece of my heart”

Mickey froze where he was standing, by the toilet bowl and the dust-covered bathroom shelves, and felt his heart sink. The fuck is he talking about?

“Wait, everyone?”

“Yeah. Yup.” Ian froze for a moment, his toothbrush hanging out of the corner of his mouth. “Okay, maybe not everybody. You don’t feel the same way?”

Mickey could almost wince. Fucking Gallagher—didn’t Ian know he was the only guy Mickey had really been with, because Ian was the only one that mattered? Instantly, Mickey thought back to all of the sloppy and excruciatingly boring hookups he’d had with women—back before he came out and was constantly putting on a show, was burying who he really was deep beneath the ground.

Ian looked at him earnestly, toothbrush still half in his mouth, with those steady green eyes Mickey could always get lost in—the only thing keeping Mickey afloat during those darker days, when he felt like everything else was pulling him under. Ian was the only person who had ever made Mickey’s heart race or his palms sweaty, the only fucking person who made Mickey feel like he was here for a reason, no matter what bullshit life threw at him. Ian was the center of Mickey’s existence, and he always had been—how could that asshole not realize that no one else Mickey’d been with could ever compare to him?

“No, I don’t. Y’know what, fuck you” is what Micket wanted to say—he felt the words about to launch off the tip of his tongue. Instead, before he knew what he was doing, Mickey lied.

“Uhhhhh. I guess, man. Y’know, I had that thing down in Mexico with, uh, Julio.” Mickey looked down at his bare feet on the tiled bathroom floor, knowing that Ian would see right through him if he looked directly in his eyes.

Ian’s eyebrows raised in genuine confusion as he leaned over the sink. “Julio? Who the fuck is Julio?” Ian sputtered as he spit out a mouthful of foamy toothpaste.

“Were you not listening, smartass? He was my… my lover. I was in Mexico a long time before I snitched on the cartel and threw my life away for your ass.”

Ian stood up and placed his toothbrush in a cup on the shelf above the sink, turning to look at Mickey, who finally raised his gaze from the linoleum. Ian didn’t look hurt, which was what Mickey was aiming for— more than anything, Ian just looked thoroughly confused, and maybe a little bit amused.

“You’ve never mentioned anything about some dude named Julio, Mick. Where’d you meet him?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Gallagher.”

Mickey stormed out of the bathroom, and turned the corner into their bedroom. It was this fucking quarantine, that was the problem—the same way that they were down each other’s throats when they were cramped together in a tiny jail cell. They were so used to the lack of each other that being together always seemed to make a mess of things. Ian didn’t actually mean that he had been in love with other people— right?

People annoyed Mickey, mostly— sex was sex, just another bland part of his bland life of doing runs for his dad, living in his fucked-up household, getting drunk with his brothers. And then one day, Ian came bursting through his door. Mickey would never forget that first time that he and Ian were together— in his opinion, that day probably permanently altered his brain chemistry or some shit. The day that he was laying in bed, woken up by a pale-faced angel whose chest was just as smooth and beautifully pale and freckled as the skin on his face and hands. And Mickey was also covered with skin, that was apparently covered with super-powered nerve endings that hadn’t done a goddamn thing his whole life, but came alive like ice and fire and bee stings as soon as Ian touched him. Wherever Ian touched him.

Sex was just sex to Mickey, for so long—but sex with Ian was on an entirely different plane of existence.

And the thought of Ian being like that with someone else, especially during that time when Mickey was locked up and there was a wall of plexiglass between them, a wall Mickey had put there himself when all he was doing was trying to protect Ian from Sammi’s bullshit; well, it made Mickey’s stomach churn.

Ian followed Mickey out of the bathroom and leaned on the doorframe of their bedroom, like he knew Mickey needed some space. “You and this Julio guy, you were like, together?”

Mickey kept his gaze downward as he put on a wrinkled shirt. “Hell yeah, man. We lived in a shack by the beach, fucked all day long. You don’t know everything about me, Gallagher.”

“I guess not.” Ian mused, still looking like he half didn’t believe Mickey. “So, uh. This Julio guy. You’re saying he has a piece of your heart?”

“Oh yeah, a big ol’ chunk of it. You aren’t special, Gallagher. In fact, he might have a bigger piece than you do, with all the fucking bickering we’ve been doing lately,” Mickey spat out as he pulled on his shoes.

Ian rolled his eyes, but sensing Mickey’s tension, he kept talking. “Mick, you know I didn’t mean it. You have the majority of my heart. The vast majority.”

Mickey scoffed, feeling more pissed off than ever. “Oh, yeah? How much is that, exactly?”

“I don’t know… 87%?”

Mickey looked at Ian, charging up for a fight. “Fuck you. That’s not enough.”

“It is enough, Mick. I’ve been with so many people I can barely remember their names. You know what it was like at the club. That’s 87% for you, and 13% for every other meaningful connection I’ve ever had in the years we were apart—that seems pretty stacked to me.”

“Yeah, well, joke’s on you, motherfucker, because you don’t even have that much of my heart, anyways. In fact, maybe I’ll go back down to fucking Mexico and see if Julio’s still around.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Mick, calm down. You don’t mean that.”

“I do, asshole. Excuse me for thinking I had your whole heart, instead of pissing away 13% of it while I was locked behind bars and tattooing your fucking name onto my chest.” Mickey turned to where Ian was blocking the doorway. “You gonna let me through?”

Ian sighed, gently putting a hand up to Mickey’s chest to stop him from barreling past into the hallway. “Okay, listen, all that shit came out wrong. You know you’re the only one that matters.”

Mickey looked at Ian’s hand on his chest, then looked up and to meet Ian’s gaze. “Do I?” he said, in a softer voice than he realized.

Ian smirked, and let his arms glide up Mickey’s chest and around his shoulders, locking him in close. “Hey. Of course you are. You’re the only one I ever wanted to be with forever.”

“Fuck you,” Mickey said earnestly, but he didn’t try to shake himself from Ian’s grasp.

Ian let his hands roam up to cradle the back of Mickey’s head in his hands, making sure he had Mickey’s undivided attention. “Listen. All those people, like Ned or Kash or whoever, they were all an important part of me becoming who I am, and nothing can change that. But they’re all a part of our love story, Mick. They’re all… minor characters, on the path of me getting to marry you.”

Now Mickey was the one rolling his eyes, his tough exterior finally starting to melt. “Yeah, okay softie.” His eyes flickered downward, in one last moment of vulnerability. “It’s just… it’s hard to forget all the stuff I missed out on, all the time we both coulda had. Time where you were with other people and not me.”

Ian pecked Mickey’s forehead, holding him in close. “Yeah, well, we have plenty of time now. Almost too much time. So much time that we’re ripping each other’s heads off.”

Mickey leaned back, and smirked. “Well, I’ve got a pretty good idea of what we can do with all that time on our hands, Mr. Milkovich.”

Ian leaned in closer, Mickey’s face millimeters from his. “Oh yeah?”

As Mickey leaned in to close the gap between their lips, he felt the nerve endings all over his body going fucking crazy again—maybe it had been a bumpy path for them both, and maybe he’d lost some of Ian along the way, but he couldn’t deny that this was worth the wait.

[night-faye]

Kidnapped, Gwaine and Gwen? (For the Angsty April prompts)

Here ya go!!

Gwen, her back pressing against the rough cobblestone, her shoulders digging into the walls on either side of her, wedged herself further into the corner of her damp cell, and curled protectively around her center.

There was a clang against her cell bars, and she glared over her knees at the fine-groomed man, disgust at his cruel eyes and malicious smile boiling in her gut.

“Hello, your majesty. Have you made your decision, yet?”

“Why don’t you go shove that sword of yours up yo-” She snarled, and he cut her off with another bang against her cell bars.

“Now, now. That’s not very lady-like. Y’see, this is the problem. Arthur was bad enough on his own, though, I will admit he was awful in his own ways, points for not being just another Uther, I suppose. But then? Then he married some low-born peasant, and, well-” The lord scoffed. “My point is; At least Arthur had the blood and breeding for the throne, but you? You’re just not deserving of it, and no child of yours will be, either.”

He tilted his head, and his smile grew sickly sweet, too wide and yet still not reaching his eyes. “Think on your options a bit longer. Either you comply, and you can have your life back, or, well, the life you’re suited too, I should say. Shoveling pig shit in some forgotten little village, but alive. Or, you can keep your undeserved title of queen, and have it engraved across your tomb.”

Gwen felt the snarl tug at her lips before she heard it tear from her throat, and the lord’s false smile fell away, displeasure washing across his face.

“Fine, then. I’ve never been one to like hurting a woman, but you’ve given me no choice. You will be executed at dawn, and don’t worry, we’ll make it a show.”

Gwen watched as he left, her eyes tracking him for as long as they could, and then her eyes listening as his footsteps went up, up, up, before fading away. She sucked in a breath, and curled protectively back around her center again. Curled around the one thing she has come to care about over all other things, even though she barely had a concept of it even existing.

It had been the spark that had banished the darkness she had fallen into after Arthur’s death. Yes, she had had the support of those still alive, and yes, she had to love of the kingdom, but it hadn’t…

She had loved Arthur, and he had been ripped from her, and she hadn’t had anything beyond cold castle walls and possessions long faded of his touch, his warmth. And then-

And then she had discovered there was a heart beating inside of her, not her own, and she had decided that she would not bring Arthur’s child into a world of coldness and grief.

And the enemies of Camelot had decided that they did not want another Pendragon in line for the throne.

She swallowed back the sob that was building in the base of her throat, and slowly breathed it out. The knights would come for her, she was sure. There was no possible way they wouldn’t.

They’d… All of them, they’d made a pledge. They weren’t Camelot’s knights (It didn’t matter where they were, anymore, not really.), they weren’t Arthur’s knights (He was dead and gone, they couldn’t be his knights, not anymore.), they weren’t the knights of the round table (Too many empty spaces, too painful to sit at for all of them who were left behind.)

They were her knights.

And her knights would find her.

There was a clang of metal coming from far down the hallway, and she jerked her head up, focusing in on the sound.

She was focusing so hard she could hear it as a body hit the floor just out of sight, and as a blade punched through leather and flesh. Could hear the pained gasp of the only captor she had spoken too, his gurgling last breaths as he choked on his own breath.

In the next instant a figure, wrapped in scarlet, was bent over the lock to her cell, keys jangling in shaking hands.

Gwen gasped as she took in who, exactly, was shoving the door to her cell and charging over to her, crouching down, his hands hovering at either side of her. Like he was afraid of her being hurt, and him touching her making it worse.

“Gwaine, what are you doing here?” She whispered, launching herself from her huddle to her knees, and catching his face in her hands. His eyes were still so haunted, and his face still so pale. The after effects of Morgana’s torture still ravaging him even four months later.

Gwaine quirked a shaky smile at her, and enveloped her in a tight hug. “Never been one to leave a damsel in distress, now have I?” He muttered, his voice still so rough and quiet. Throat still healing from the scream-inducing nightmares that had only stopped a month ago.

She buried her head in the crook of his neck. “No, you haven’t” She whispered. She’d put him on bed rest the moment they got back to Camelot, but for now…

For now she was just grateful that he was here. Here to save her, and alive to be here to save her.

“Come on,” He muttered into her hair. “Merls, Percy, and Leon are waiting for us.”

“Okay.” She said, pulling back and letting him help her to stand. “Let’s go home, Gwaine.”

He nodded, and smiled at her again, this one far less shaky. “Yeah, let’s.”

Posted on AO3 - Here

Prompt list - Here

[rosesgonerogue]

How to be a Dad 101

Chapter Four - Villain AU

Jasonette July Day Five

Masterlist

“Marinette, Alya is here!” Sabine called up the stairs.

“Thanks Maman, I’ll see you later!” Marinette called back, launching herself down. Sure enough, her best friend was waiting for her at the bakery’s front door. “Nino isn’t with you?”

“He’s helping Chris get all of the kids settled, the sucker,” Alya said, though Marinette couldn’t tell which Lahiffe boy was being called the sucker.

“Are we sure that Chris can handle all the kids at once?” Marinette asked, admittedly nervous.

“No,” Alya said matter-of-factly. “But Nora is going to drop in on then to make sure everything is okay.”

“But are you sure? I just feel bad, you know Jules has been biting. Maybe I should—”

“If you were going to finish that sentence with ‘stay with the kids,’ I will strangle you, Marinette. I love you girl, but it has been three months since I’ve gone somewhere and not taken a diaper bag with me, and I know it’s been way longer than that for you. Give me tonight.”

“Okay, okay, I get it, Alya,” Marinette said, holding up her hands. “I will leave things in Chris’s questionable hands.”

Alya softened a bit. “Look, I get it. Next time we’ll try to plan for a day when Manon is available, she’s really good with the kids.

“Deal. So have we heard if everyone is going to make it tonight?”

“Almost everyone. Adrien and Kagami might be a little late? Rose has a fundraiser she has to be at tonight, but other than that I think we’re a go.”

“Wow, it’s been a long time since we’ve all been together like this,” Marinette said. “It’ll almost feel like old times.”

“It sounds like Max is finally letting us meet his wife. I think Kim has a running bet on whether or not she’s a robot.”

“Kim is still on that? He’s probably just jealous that Max beat him to getting married even though he hasn’t known Camille very long.”

“Hold up girl, you know Max’s wife’s name?” Alya demanded. “Spill.”

“It was nothing much, I only know her because I made her wedding dress,” Marinette said, pausing at the sidewalk corner. “Do we go left or right?”

“Right. But how did you not tell me this?” Alya demanded.

“Even though we’re school friends, I still have to maintain a certain level of professionality. I can’t go tell Paris’s most promising reporter about one of the world’s most promising computer programmers personal life. Besides, Max really wanted to surprise everyone,” Marinette said, smirking. “The dress was one of my finest creations yet.”

“Fine, I suppose I can’t compromise one of the world’s most promising young designers,” Alya huffed. “But she has good taste? This gets more mysterious by the moment.”

“So who picked the place this time? I know we’re trusting Chris with the kids, but you know how Kim gets when we go to his bar, and I don’t know if I trust Chris to watch them all night because we got a little tipsy or something.”

“Well, it is at Kim’s bar, but don’t worry, he’ll be too distracted by Max, so we won’t even be tempted by all of the free alcohol. Besides, you always seem like such a pro at resisting temptation.”

Getting to Kim’s bar didn’t take long, even on foot. Once there, a good portion of their high school class yelled greetings from the back of the bar.

“Alya, Marinette! Good to see you, but where’s Nino?” Kim asked, opening the door for them.

“He’s helping Chris get the kids situated, he’ll be here soon,” Alya said, hugging the muscular man. “Is Max here yet? I hear we get to meet the wife.”

“Yeah, she’s way out of his league,” Kim said, jabbing a thumb towards the corner of the bar.

As much as Marinette had complained, she couldn’t help but smile upon coming into the bar. Kim had fallen into the role of bartender easily, amusing his patrons with tales of akumas and the Miraculous team – although tales of King Monkey were definitely the most popular. It was a clean, warm space, decorated with murals and framed newspaper clippings about any akuma incidents involving their class.

“You must’ve been desperate if Chris is babysitting,” Adrien said, sidling up next to her. “Manon was busy?”

“She had a study group,” Marinette said, bumping his shoulder with hers. While she considered Alya her best friend, Adrien still was, and always would be her partner, the black cat to her ladybug. He knew her mind in ways that no one else ever could. “You caught me. So what do you think of Max’s wife? I think she’s absolutely adorable.”

“Marinette, you knew about Max’s wedding?” someone yelled, positively betrayed.

“I think it’s time for s to join the others, but for the record I completely agree with you.” Adrien offered her an arm to escort her to the rest of the group. “By the way, Kagami says hello.”

“How is pregnancy treating your lovely wife?”

“Oh, the normal. The cravings, the irrational anger, average pregnancy-type things. The last time I mentioned you she nearly skewered me with a fire poker and told me that if I spoke about any other woman that way she would kill me where I stood. After that she cried for a few minutes because she missed you.”

“It sounds like I need to pay her a visit,” Marinette said brightly.

“So we’re just ignoring the part where my life was in danger, typical. I should have known that you would side with her,” Adrien pouted.

“You can complain to me when you’ve been pregnant,” Marinette said, patting his cheek.

“I’d like to think I’m a fairly decent husband, so I would say I’m allowed to be a little offended by threats of homicide.”

“No, that’s just pregnancy,” Nino said, his version of a grand entrance. “The more violent they are means you’re taking good care of them.”

By this point they’d gotten to the larger group, and Max’s wife, Camille, a sweet, auburn-haired woman, brightened. “Marinette, it’s lovely to see you again!”

“Wait, you really did know about this too, Marinette?!” Kim demanded.

“Client confidentiality, Kim,” Marinette said with a wicked smile. “Rose can’t make it, so everyone is officially here, Camille.”

“Oh, perfect,” she said, clapping her hands. “Max and I have an announcement to make!”

“Don’t tell me you’re already having a kid!” Alix groaned. “All of you are making it even more sucky to be single right now.”

“We came to invite you to our wedding,” Max said, pushing up his glasses.

“Excuse me, what?” Chloe asked.

“What we did before was just a little ceremony in England for Camille’s parents. Did you guys really think I could get married without all of you?”

There were a few beats of silence before chaos erupted. Kim had Max in a headlock while at least three of the girls were asking Camille about wedding plans. Nearby Alix was still sulking about being single.

When everyone settled down, Mylene said, “We’re getting old, aren’t we?”

“I’m going to die alone,” Alix lamented.

“We’re still in our twenties,” Marinette reminded her. “We’ve got time.”

“But if you’re still single how do any of the rest of us stand a chance?” she demanded.

“Oh yeah. Sometimes I forget that Marinette is still single because of the whole…” he waved his hand, indicating things he couldn’t put words to, “… situation.”

“Exactly!” Alix spat. “She’s perfect, she makes a perfect mother, and she’s handling everything better alone than any of us can with a significant other! I’m doomed!”

“But Marinette is still looking, just like you, Alix,” Mylene pointed out. “She just did things a little out of order.”

“And I’m not perfect, I promise you,” Marinette said with the weariness that could only be a product of parenthood.

“Is Jules still in a biting phase?” Sabrina asked.

“Unfortunately yes,” Alya said with that same weariness.

“Since we’re on the topic, what was the baby daddy even like?” Kim asked. “We haven’t heard much about him, and from what little I’ve heard, I can’t help but picture him as one of those old cartoon villains twirling his mustache and preying on young girls.”

“Villain works. Although I would have called him a lying, scheming—” Adrien cut off, glancing at the young parents he was situated between, Marinette in particular was known for body-checking people if they used any sort of questionable language regardless of if there was a child present, “-scheming meanie pants,” he finished lamely.

“It’s okay, Adrien, this is a safe zone,” Alya said, patting his shoulder. “You can tell them that Jason is a bastard.”

Nathaniel inhaled sharply, choking on his drink. “Wow… I just… What would you say about him, Marinette?”

“I wouldn’t call him that,” Marinette said, ignoring Alya and Adrien’s protests. “Really, I had no misconceptions about the way things were. We never gave each other our numbers, or even our last names. Something bigger than both of us brought us together, and I don’t regret it. If I’m lucky, maybe it will bring us together once more.”

The class fell silent until Alix groaned once more, burying her head in her arms. “I’M GOING TO DIE ALONE!”

Taglist: 

@jasonette-july-2k20 @ira-sairain @myazael @pawsitivelymiraculous @nik-nak-3 @dast218 @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm  @vixen-uchiha @momothefemur @toodaloo-kangaroo

Note: 

I thought this chapter would barely meet the word limit I’ve set for myself, but that was not a problem. If you want to be tagged, or if I forgot to tag you, just leave a comment below. Also just leave a comment below regardless, I’ve been helping my family move all week and I need something to keep me sane. In all reality, though, I write like this mainly to improve my skills as well as get feedback on them, so I appreciate any comment you send my way. 

This story is also really different from what I normally write. Despite the premise, it’s WAY more slice of life than I’ve ever done long-term like this, so I especially want to hear your reactions on this! 

[wayward-wlw]

A Day in the Sun

I hope I haven’t missed the deadline on wedding posting! Here’s a Claire-centric wedding fic :) 

AO3 Link 

*** 

They aren’t her dads.

Claire’s pretty insistent about that, because she had a dad. Sure, she has issues with Jimmy. She still feels a little abandoned, still thinks he was an idiot, sometimes she’s pinned with a rage so sharp and bright it scares her, just because she thought about the choice he made when she was just a kid.

But the rage passes, and she remembers that he was her dad, and for the first nine years of her life, he did okay at that.

(Now that she’s a hunter, she’s learned that having an okay dad for nine whole years is an anomaly in this business, something to be grateful for.)

Jimmy was her dad, so Dean and Cas are just Dean and Cas.

Except once at Cas’s bachelor party.

She’d had a bit to drink. She’d actually had a lot to drink, snuck carefully whenever everyone was too busy toasting Cas or dancing to notice what was in her glass. The world had gotten round and had started to spin just enough to make it seem more fun. She’d started dancing, clinging to Kaia with sweaty palms and swinging her around with abandon, her head thrown back while she laughs.

After a while they’d both sat down to watch the festivities, and Kaia had slumped over, her head in Claire’s lap, and Claire had stroked her hair and smiled at Jody and Cas dancing, making up for their complete lack of skill with sheer enthusiasm. 

The word had been like a bucket of ice poured over her head, launching her into something closer to sobriety. 

After a while even she had started to doze off, and that’s when Cas had come over, shaking her awake to help her back to the motel room.

She remembers swatting at his hand when he’d tried to help her stand. “’M fine, dad.” 

Cas froze, his hand an inch from her arm. “Claire—” 

She hadn’t known whether to try to laugh it off, or to pretend it hadn’t happened, but she’d been drinking, and suddenly that word had seemed so big and so important and so distant that there were tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to ruin the makeup she’d worked so hard to make look this careless. 

Carefully, Cas stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder, giving her plenty of time and space to pull away. 

Cas didn’t smell like Jimmy, didn’t even really look like him anymore. He moves differently and talks differently, and when she leaned into him in that moment, he hadn’t hugged her the same way she remembered Jimmy hugging. 

And that, strangely, was okay. 

When she’d stepped away from Cas, still a little teary, Jody had stepped in, and then Alex had crushed in on her other side, and Patience, her extra senses dulled with alcohol, hadn’t even noticed Claire’s little misspeak, so she shouted “Group hug!” 

And suddenly Claire was surrounded on all sides, and Cas is crushed against her, the button on his stupid coat pushing into her cheek hard enough that she thinks it’ll leave a mark. 

Now all laughing, Claire’s mistake and outburst forgotten, everyone had filed out and back towards the motel while Donna began a joyfully off-key rendition of Piano Man that should have gotten them all arrested. 

When she wakes up, it all comes flooding back to her, and Claire is left with the very firm reminder that they are not her dads. 

She leaves the crowd and the noise of wedding preparations to sit on the impala. As long as Dean doesn’t need to go anywhere, she’ll be left alone here, which is exactly what she wants. 

She looks up, afraid she’d somehow called him because she’d been thinking about him, even though he said it didn’t work like that anymore. “Cas.” 

She needs to think, get her head sorted out before she goes back in among the guests and the joy and the excitement.

“Claire?” 

“Are you… alright?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You were drinking last night—” 

Claire rolls her eyes. “You going to lecture me?” 

He shakes his head, his eyes crinkling up at the edges. “No. How’s your head? I’m told sometimes there are headaches.” 

“Fine,” She says, without bothering to tell him about the ibuprofen she’d already taken and would need to take again soon. 

“Good.” 

They’re silent for a minute, and a bird starts singing shrilly from a nearby tree. 

“Last night—”

“Sorry about—” 

They both stop and look at each other, but Cas gestures for her to go on.

“Uh, sorry about what I said last night,” She says, scuffing her foot in the dirt, refusing to look at him. Jimmy’s face, Cas’s face. Dad’s face.

He seems surprised, from what she can tell without looking at his face.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” He says slowly, as if he’d had a speech prepared, but she’d already gone off-script.

“Why?” She asks.

“I… I’m not your father.”

Claire laughs a little raggedly. “I know, dumbass.”

He frowns at her language. “Really, Claire. I’m sure this must be… difficult for you.”

She laughs again, but this time there’s no humor in it at all. “That’s the problem,” She admits. “It’s not that difficult at all.”

He tilts his head, the funny, curious puppy dog look he probably should have stopped doing a long time ago. “I don’t understand.” 

She shrugs, chewing on her nail. “I don’t know, I guess… you fill the void, or something.” 

“Last night… I didn’t call you dad because you look like Jimmy,” She admits, looking away, trying to find the bird in the tree so that she doesn’t have to see his reaction to her confession.

“You…” 

Cas nods slowly. “Family doesn’t end with blood,” He says, and it sounds like he’s quoting someone. 

“Sounds like something Dean would say.” 

“Something someone said to him.” 

Cas leans into her arm, bumping against it just hard enough for her to know it was intentional, and waits for her to look at him. 

When she finally does, he smiles. “I’m very glad you’re here. I don’t—I don’t have a lot of family left, and what I had wasn’t… ideal.” 

“No one’s family is ideal,” Claire says, then has to pause to wonder if he’s seen the breakfast club, and if she needs to add that to the family movie night list. 

“Mine might have been a little bit messier than most,” He says. “But… I want you to know that I’m very honored that you’ve let me be your family, Claire. It’s—” 

“If you say some stupid bullshit about not deserving it, I’ll punch you,” Claire says, softening her words with a smile. 

“For what?” 

He puts his hands up, conceding the point. “Truly, thank you, Claire.”

She flushes, looking away and swallowing a sudden lump in her throat. “Yeah, uh, thank you, too.” 

She shrugs, digging the toe of her sneaker into the dirt. “You came back.”

Carefully, Cas puts his arm around her, and she goes willingly, leaning against his chest.

“Sometimes I hate him, you know,” Claire admits.

“Claire—”

She doesn’t let him try to take the blame for Jimmy’s choice. “I hated him for leaving, but… if he hadn’t done it, if you hadn’t picked him… I never would have become a hunter. I never would have met Kaia or Jody or Alex or Patience or Dean or Sam. They’re my family too. I wouldn’t trade any of it.” 

Cas nods. “Half the people at our wedding have tried to kill us. Dean and I have tried to kill each other. Love is very complicated sometimes.” 

She laughs. She’s heard the stories, but it’s still hard to picture Dean and Cas fighting, aside from their snippy little arguments. They love each other; it’s clear as day. She can’t really make herself believe they’d ever hurt each other, even though she knows they have.

Not that it really matters. All’s well and all that.

“So…” She smiles hesitantly. “You’re getting married tomorrow.”

The smile that splits Cas’s face is so wide it seems to involve his entire body. The sun gets brighter, as if he’s turned up the saturation on the whole world.

“Yes, I am.”

“Nervous?” She asks.

He shakes his head. “Why would I be?”

“People usually are, I think.” Claire hasn’t been to a wedding since she was a kid, when she’d been a flower girl in her mom’s friend’s wedding, and this doesn’t feel anything like that.

Cas shrugs. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. I love Dean, and he loves me.” He smiles, like the idea of that is still new and incredible. 

“Are you ready?” He asks.

“Glad you two finally figured that one out, it was getting a little embarrassing.”

Cas rolls his eyes, and Claire smiles.

“For…”

“Your speech at the rehearsal dinner tonight.”

“Yeah,” She lies. “Absolutely. I have it all worked out.”

“It’s all ready,” She assures Cas. “But, uh, I should go practice.”

Later, she will run to Jody, with Kaia’s hand gripped in hers, and force them both to sit down and work out a speech with her. (“How do I start?”

“Start with a funny story about him, or like, when you met or something.”

“Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today to celebrate the guy who possessed my dad, and the man who didn’t think that was weird.”

“Okay, maybe not that.”)

He smiles and hugs her quickly. “I should go find Dean.”

“Isn’t it bad luck or something to see him?”

“We’ve already had all our bad luck.”

It takes about four hours of work for her, Jody, and Kaia to get something usable onto the notecard. Claire isn’t sure that it’s perfect, but she thinks it’s as close as it’ll be, so when Kaia squeezes her hand as the rehearsal dinner is starting and asks, “Are you ready?” Claire smiles and says yes.

She steps up and takes the microphone from Jack, whose speech was his usual blend of baffling and adorable. He gives her n enthusiastic thumbs up, and she smiles back, taking a deep breath before she turns to face the crowd.

“Someone told me once that family doesn’t end with blood.” 

Dean’s mouth drops open, and his eyes go glassy as he reaches for Cas’s hand. Claire has to fight around a lump in her throat to keep going.

“We can’t let it, in this job, because a lot of us lose our blood family.” Claire thinks about Jimmy and her mom, and family dinners that always started with a prayer.  “And sometimes we’re mad about it. Sometimes we try to get revenge.”

She locks eyes with Sam and Dean. She knows their story, knows how it started.

Then she looks at Cas. “But sometimes it’s easier to let go of being angry and just… live. I’m glad I picked the other, because if I decided to get revenge on the angel that possessed my dad—” There’s an uncomfortable ripple of laughter through the crowd “—I would have missed out on the best backup family I could have found.”

She raises her glass to Dean and Cas. “You guys aren’t my dads, but whatever you are, I love you, and I’m happy for you. Congratulations.”

She manages to sit down and hide her face in a sip of champagne before the first tear breaks free.

[writingbakery]

“an andorian, a bezoid, & a tessian walk into a bar”

another one of my favorite works is here! i originally wrote this for a different fandom, & rewrote it to fit here. i’m in love with this story, it’s one of my absolute favorites; please leave me feedback about it! a second part is in the works ✨ taglist; @secondhand-trash @redbeanteax @togasknifes

[some notes: denki is an andorian, a very tall race of aliens who are very nimble, skilled silent warriors when needed. hitoshi is a bezoid, from a mining planet, broad, tough, good with any sort of weapon but mainly guns, & you are a rare species called tessian, lil shapeshifting aliens that were often sold as slaves way back in the day on illegal black markets due to their skill! ULC means universal language chip, & the fleet is my version of the interspace police! ]

[pairing; poly!shinkami x reader]

[warnings; space jokes, cussing, dangerous scenarios, extremely Buff Aliens, violence, angst, fluff]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

if you asked hitoshi shinsou what he would describe as a perfect day, he would tell you this: waking up in his quarters on the isla bella, the smooth glide of their ship through space flowing uninterrupted. there are no parts that need replacing, no angry merchants on their tail for undelivered merchandise, nothing but the clean quiet of the stars & the faint glow of space flitting through the small window by his bed, denki fast asleep against his chest. he’d card his fingers through the andorian’s glimmering gold hair, kiss along the slope of his nose & bask in his quiet beauty. that would be a perfect day for him; lounging in bed with his freakishly tall, giggly lover without a care in the world.

the last thing he’d consider to be a perfect day is running across the burning - literally in flames burning - sand of a deserted planet with two grogorians firing photon lasers at his skinny ass, skidding between the roaring flames of the ground beneath him & the sting of the lasers with denki screaming unintelligible commands & curses in his ear via comm. he’d consider that a bottom of the barrel kind of day.

you can probably guess which kind of day he’s having.

cursing under his breath as he slips between the burning flames, he does a cursory peek around the open desert, eyes searching for the opening that denki was furiously insisting “was right there, hitoshi shinsou for the love of god open those damn sultry bezoid eyes and LOOK” - he refuses to acknowledge the compliment, focused on the seven million fucking grains of sand & his boyfriends panicked voice in his ear when he finally spots it. a haze in the heavy heated air, almost like a mirage, a split in the vast landscape that led down somewhere dark, hidden. he lets out a sigh of relief loud enough for denki to hear, a sign that he’d found the entrance, before a photon blast skims just past his ear, leaving a three inch skidded burn across his cheek.

oh right. the grogorians.

stealing from the grogorians was the stupidest goddamn idea denki had ever come up with, which was saying a lot; once, he’d thought the seven suns on Naboor all rose & fell at the same time, shrieking in hitoshi’s ear about “planetary instability” & “socio-economic collapse” for a full ten minutes before he saw the suns rising & falling one after the other, in turns. that had been a field day, not one hitoshi was eager to repeat. the grogorians were fiercely territorial, completely tucked away from modern civilization & technology, & were at least seven feet tall. you could fit two shinsous in one of their chests; he wasn’t quite ready to see that up close.

ducking & weaving across the barren landscape, he slides through the slit in the ground with practiced ease; he’s run for his miserable life far too many times at this point. he can hear the grogorians shouting above the hole in the ground, too big for them to pass through, & he winces as his ULC - universal language chip, something kaminari had insisted he get implanted- deciphers the strangled words into curses he can understand. he’s really glad his parents are dead, because whatever blood curses the grogorians are spitting at his family tree sound awful.

the cavernous tunnels he’s slid down into are cool, spacious; coned lights illuminate the rocky path deeper & deeper into the planet. its all but deserted, the only inhabitants the two grogorian guards he’d narrowly escaped from. denki’s voice filters in through the comm again, calmer now that hitoshi was safely inside.

“we’ve got twenty minutes max before their distress signal goes through,” the andorian warns him, tracking the surrounding space around the planet from the isla bella. “follow the main tunnel straight through. the crown should be there. ten minutes to get there, i phase you straight out, we fucking book it into warp drive & we’ll be seven million credits richer by tomorrow morning. and you can finally treat me to dajang.”

hitoshi rolls his eyes despite the fact that denki can’t actually see him, trudging through the tunnels a little wearily. “remind me again why i always have to be the one getting shot to hell & back?” he grumbles as he walks, no real heat to his voice.

“you love my ass too much to risk it getting shot at, baby you know that,” denki laughs through the comm, ever poking fun at hitoshi’s expense & he’s sure to give the andorian a long, drawn out sigh before switching off the comm & pushing further into the darkness.

denki’s right though, hitoshi muses as he moves, his eyes glinting violet in the lamplight. the bezoid would rather die than see denki in any veritable danger, keeps him up on the ship to guide him & yank his ass out at the first inkling of a problem.

he’d been protecting the stupidly tall, wildly cheery andorian from the first day they’d met, cooped up in some stuffy bar off V-7. he’d had absolutely zero self-preservation skills even then, picking a fight with a damned Dervisian of all people, just because the man had insulted his shirt. hitoshi, not overly fond of watching handsome morons get punched in the face by meatsacks twice their size - & maybe he appreciates the long, toned legs & pretty face a little more than he lets on - steps in with ease, no matter how short he feels between the two of them. the dervisian cracks a height joke, because he’s an asshole, denki stabs him in the shoulder with a four inch dagger he pulls out of his too tight pants - & of course hitoshi spends far too long wondering just how he managed to fit it in the first place, mind all fuzzy - & they somehow manage to kick off an interspace bar fight. wonderful.

once the dust has settled & the chaos calmed, hitoshi finds himself with three new bruises, a cut cheek, & an armful of very grateful andorian.

“i hear the fleets coming. wanna get married?” denki wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, & hitoshi chokes on his own spit.

“what for? they’re keepers of the peace, not wedding officials,” he manages, glaring up at the - stupidly tall, stupidly pretty - andorian that’s managed to wrap himself into his arms.

“if you’re married they can’t deport you. i’d really like to avoid interspace jail,” denki winces, & hitoshi snorts.

“or we could run, like normal deviants of the law,” he points out, much to denki’s chagrin.

“and where is the fun in that?” the andorian pouts, & hitoshi knows he’s screwed.

four years, seven interspace incidents, four run ins with the fleet, & one rusting junktrap of nuts & bolts they called a ship later, they were inseparable. one complete idiot with a penchant for charming the pants off everyone around them & simultaneously launching them into trouble, & his over exasperated, eternally exhausted boyfriend, who was consistently saving his ass. they were an unlikely duo, but they worked like magic, & despite the fact that he had to risk his ass every damn day, hitoshi was pretty happy. him & denki made a little solar system all their own, a shining sun & its orbiting planet, & he likes that. he’s happy.

as happy as a thief for hire could be, really.

the problem with their particular profession, however, is that denki is basically one big ass radar for trouble. if something can go wrong, it will go wrong, disastrously so, & hitoshi is always caught in the middle of it, fleeing for his life with someone shooting at his ass (it’s always his ass, & he can never understand why. )

it’s for that reason, & that reason only, that hitoshi is the one creeping down the dark, deep tunnel, his nerves frayed as he keeps his eyes trained on every nook & cranny surrounding him. he can see the faint glow of an upcoming room ahead & hurries his pace, eager to grab the crown & escape, maybe finally treat denki to that dajang he’d been whining about - he’d never been fond of the strangely shimmery, horned fish, but if it made denki happy, he wasn’t going to complain.

the tunnel opens up into a small, brightly lit room, warm & pulsing with energy. the grogorians kept the crown here for good reason, the sheer amount of dead souls crafted into the metal & jewels enough to make anyone’s skin crawl. hitoshi gingerly steps closer, hands twitching at his sides as he moves into the light and - wait a minute.

wait a goddamn minute.

there’s a person on the raised pillar, small & decidedly not threatening. your little body is curled loosely around the crown, shivering gently, & hitoshi realizes several things all at once:

one, the tiny body is a tessian, and a young one at that, a couple years younger than himself.

two, the grogorians have definitely arrived earlier than scheduled. fuck. he clicks on his comm to hear denki screaming incoherently about danger, & winces heavily.

great.

third, the booming, heavy rumbles of the grogorian ship - & denki’s frantic yelling - has woken you up, the little tessian, arms still caging the crown close to your chest as though seeking out its warmth.

up close, hitoshi can see a smattering of pink freckles dusted across your honey gold cheeks, bright, messy hair falling into big, bright eyes. you yawn, then blink, eyes flashing & settling into a light, rosy pink at the same time your little fluffy ears twitch atop your head, a matching color to your eyes. your tail twitches slightly, four light gold rings wrapped around it, & it’s obvious you’re about young adult age. you yawn again, a tiny, unfiltered squeak escaping you at the sight of hitoshi in front of you.

you’re absolutely adorable. hitoshi is absolutely fucked.

dimly, he registers denki’s panicked shouts & the shaking of the tunnel walls, can feel the ground trembling beneath him, & he snaps out of his reverie to glance at the crown again. said crown is tucked up against your torn shirt, tessian hands - so delicate, so cute - keeping it close.

“hey, hey! don’t touch that! there’s like, eight thousand dead people in there,” hitoshi scolds before he can think, & you simply cock your head, confusion written all over your face.

“no, don’t squeeze it tighter - stop it! hey! are you even listening?” he seethes, reaching out a hand to snatch the crown away. you shift back quickly, frowning just as deep as hitoshi as you hug the crown even closer. it’s clear you can’t understand a word hitoshi is saying, & the grogorians have started some sort of blasting contest right outside the caverns.

great.

hitoshi swears under his breath, racking his brain for any sort of solution. “hitoshi shinsou, you are ASKING to die, they’re blowing the fucking cave open! can i phase you out yet? you too busy admiring that handsome face of yours in the stupid crown’s fucking reflection?” denki sounds hysterical, voice on the verge of near meltdown & hitoshi knows he’s out of time.

he’s got two options: stay & deal with the grogorians, or run.

he runs.

leaning forward, he tucks both hands under your armpits & yanks you forward, tosses you over his shoulder, & books it out of the tunnel.

he can barely hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears, your tessian wails, & one denki kaminari screeching like the world’s ending.

“phase me out phase me out PHASE ME OUT-“ he’s shouting above the din, phaser blasts surrounding him on all sides, & he doesn’t stop running until he feels the familiar pins & needles of the transporter, turning them into a mess of glittering gold dots that wink out just as a grogorian fires right where hitoshi’s head had been.

he slams into the floor of the isla bella with a groan, denki immediately in front of him. he sits up slow, careful not to shift too abruptly & disrupt the reanimation process, when denki snatches you right out of his arms.

“hitoshi what the fuck, you were only supposed to grab the crown, not adorable little tessians! and what were you doing down there, young alien?” denki has gone into full andorian mode, pinching your little tessian cheeks as he sits you in his lap - hitoshi’s just glad he’s got the sense not to do that to him.

you still can’t seem to understand, tilting your fluffy bright head of hair as you stare up at denki. you chirp, then hum, one hand reaching up to pet denki’s head, before smiling brightly.

denki coos. hitoshi snorts.

“i found them sleeping on the crown. they can’t understand us, they don’t have a ULC, so i just grabbed ‘em & ran,” hitoshi explains, getting up to ensure that they were in hyperspace, blasting millions of lightyears away from the grogorians. he chances another glance at the tessian sat comfortably in denki’s lap; you’re a little dirty, clearly having been stranded in the caverns a few days.

denki frowns at hitoshi’s back, brushing over the phaser burn on the ass of his pants with one hand as he speaks.

“the poor thing must be terrified, being surrounded by all that. switch your ULC to interpret mode, at least we’ll be able to understand them, & talk to them,” denki says quietly; looking down at the fluffy bundle of tessian in his arms. hitoshi can already see the gears turning in his head.

once they’ve switched settings, denki speaks.

“what’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks softly, clearly trying to make you comfortable.

the series of chirps & coos you let out shift almost in midair, turning themselves into words that hitoshi can actually understand.

“[y/n]? [y/n l/n]? oh that’s so cute! tell us, [y/n], why were you down there all by yourself?” denki prods, voice still soothing & calm. you, the tessian - [y/n], hitoshi thinks, too precious - sit up a bit, animatedly speaking now that they can understand you better. the squeaks & chirps are downright adorable, & hitoshi has to look away from flailing hands & a sunbeam smile to center himself again.

“and what were the lot of you thinking, sneaking down there? your whole little tribe, just gone, huh? i’m so sorry, sweetheart,” denki winces, & hitoshi can sympathize - tessian tribes were tight-knit little groups, & losing them meant a death sentence for whoever was left behind. they were pack creatures, always in need of others. hitoshi can see the gears turning, & he speaks before the andorian can.

“no, denki.”

“toshi! look at them, aren’t they the cutest thing you’ve ever seen! we have to keep them!” denki all but wails, pulling you so close to his chest that your cheeks squish together. you don’t seem concerned in the slightest, just giggle against denki’s face. hitoshi’s resolve weakens a little.

“we’ve got no space, denks, not to mention we’re not exactly the safest group for them to latch onto,” hitoshi protests weakly, even as the andorian pouts at him.

“we can’t just leave them alone, they’re so small, & no one will protect them!” denki is dangerously close to tears, & hitoshi never does well with a crying denki. he opens his mouth to protest again, try & make his point, but just then you yawn again, slow & long, the tiniest of squeaks escaping you & when you open your eyes again, they’re gold just like denki’s hair, your ears matching.

hitoshi’s determination evaporates.

“fine, fine, we can keep them. but if anything happens to them, it's your fault,” he grumbles, settling into the pilot's chair to monitor their progress.

denki cheers. you chirp happily.

hitoshi bangs his head on the control panel.

what have i gotten myself into this time, he thinks dully, but deep down, he knows he doesn’t mind. not too much.

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

after finally managing to pry the crown out of your hands & delivering it to the client - hitoshi doesn’t even wanna know what the creepy old Lavastian wanted with it, he’d had to take three showers under the hydrospray to get the itch off his skin - they’ve set a course for the driard system, to rest before their next assignment. being that their work schedule is so…flexible, it gives the trio a little time to get adjusted. and by adjusted, hitoshi means getting used to having you, a fluffy little alien, hanging off him at all hours of the day.

he’d thought that denki was clingy, the andorian typically seeking out hitoshi’s hands to hold or shoulders to rest his head. his people were affectionate that way, much different than hitoshi’s bezoid counterparts. he’d adjusted though, sacrificed personal space & eventually, had grown both used to & comfortable with having denki draped over him like a blanket at all times.

[y/n l/n] is an entirely different species - literally & figuratively.

firstly, you’re a clinger. where denki lounges, you squeeze with - surprisingly - strong arms & legs, wrapped around hitoshi’s frame like a verealis vine.

you’re so touchy you’ve got denki beat, & the pair of you seem stuck in some sort of exceedingly needy, relentless cuddle war. hitoshi’s got his money on you, even if he doesn’t admit it.

secondly, you’re scarily helpful. you seem to turn up right when hitoshi needs something adjusted deep in the ship, or when denki can’t seem to locate something correctly on their navigational screen. you’ll shapeshift into a teeny, tiny ragran rat to scurry through chambers & fix a wire, or tap on the control panel just so to show the correct star system, & its quite frankly impressive.

hitoshi’s starting to think you were made for them, just a little.

normally he leaves the sappy shit to denki, the andorian’s well flowered language easily explaining all his emotions & thoughts. but there’s something about the little tessian that shakes him up a little, changes the dynamic. denki doesn’t mind one bit.

he relishes in hitoshi’s newfound sweetness, even if it’s just a “that wasn’t completely awful, great job, babe,” or “you know, that shirt isn’t as hideous as i thought. brings out your eyes.” he knows hitoshi is simply trying his best, knows that words never got very far on his home planet.

you like that he’s quiet though, for some reason. you chirp & chatter enough for the both of you whenever you’re together, silly stories of whatever disasters you & denki had gotten into on the ship - hitoshi’s suspicious you’re both responsible for the six broken panels along the corridors, impromptu games of touch & go be damned - or telling him memories of your time on Tessero, your home planet. you’ve got an easy way of speaking, soft & languid & it calms him down like no other, settling into his bones & dimming the chaos in his mind for a little while.

your cuddliness extends even to when you’re asleep, tucked up neatly between denki & hitoshi in the big bed of their quarters. you’re a calm sleeper, curl up tight into a little ball with the pair of them draped over you, like a tiny tessian heater. it’s sweet & soft & so fucking domestic that hitoshi has a hard time believing it sometimes. he’d even started pressing kisses into the top of your head as he moved along the ship, much like the gentle ones he presses to denki’s lips. he’s not scared by it, per say, but he is a little surprised; he’d always been a little closed off, reserved. you had snuck up on him swiftly, without him even realizing. he finds he rather likes it.

the few days of travel before you reach the driard system are calm, simple evenings of dinner & talking together as you all soak up the simplicity of space. somehow, it’s comforting. you’re a twinkling, bright little star amidst their solar system, & hitoshi likes that. a shining sun, its orbiting planet, & the brightest little star.

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

everything goes to shit once they step foot on Ovalia 7.

the leisure planet is tucked at the edge of the star system, a quiet haven for those always on the move. it’s denki’s favorite place to go after a successful deal, & they serve the best dajang this side of the galaxy. hitoshi likes that no one ever speaks to them there, everyone wrapped up in their own little vacations.

denki books them a room at their usual spot, ignoring the innkeepers curious glance at the request - one big bed, a nice tub, window view, & hitoshi’s certain he thinks you’re all a couple. the thought doesn’t bother him, & he realizes with a jolt that they act like one, all three of them. they cuddle & hug & kiss, & hitoshi sits on that a moment before shrugging it away. if denki didn’t mind it, neither did he, & he focuses once more on relaxing.

they’ve just settled into a local restaurant, plates full of dajang & ocuro & everything else that tickle their fancy when hitoshi hears it. heavy steps, familiar ones, although he can’t quite place it in the haze of relaxation. he ignores it in favor of feeding you some of his mulrag, the spiced meat a clear favorite with your tessian palate & he can’t help his grin. he lets denki feed him a warm bite of dajang, rolling his eyes at the andorian’s little smile & affectionate pinch of hitoshi’s cheek. everything is nice, sweet & lazy in the warm air.

and then all hell breaks loose.

eight of the biggest fucking grogorians hitoshi’s ever seen in his life burst through the door, weapons armed & faces set in such hostile expressions that everyone is scattering. denki hauls you up & to his side, dragging hitoshi by the collar until you’re all crouched behind the bar, hidden from view. “i should’ve known they’d track us,” he all but whines, peeking over the wooden edge of the bar. a photon shot quickly makes him duck down again, cursing lightly. “plan?” he asks behind clenched teeth, tugging you closer.

hitoshi pauses, weighs his options.

“the two of you book it to the ship. i’m going to distract them,” he says quickly, thinking back to the conversations he’d been eavesdropping on earlier - thieves never took a real vacation, always on the lookout for something new to snatch.

two very drunk, loud Avarians had been seated just behind them, rambling on about the very expensive, very valuable statue hidden deep in the recesses of the abandoned temple just off the main road. many had tried to steal it, but had always gotten stuck deep in the underground channels trying to escape. the elders guarding it weren’t exactly friendly either.

a plan starts to form in his head, one that would both enrich them & save their asses from this absolute mess. he’s quite proud of himself, if he’s honest.

then a bottle explodes just above his head, & he jolts into action.

he fires a few warning shots at the wall behind the grogorians, turning & racing out the door in a clear attempt to lead them out. the grogorians take the bait easily, & he races down the road towards the temple as you and denki sneak out the back of the restaurant.

the temple is huge, dusty & a little worn around the edges. the priests guarding the door take one look at hitoshi shinsou, panting & shooting over his shoulder at several grogorians & lose it, screeching & running for cover just as he’d expected. he pushes through the open door with the hostile aliens right at his footsteps, racing through the dark corridors deeper & deeper into the bowels of the temple. halfway down denki clicks onto the comm, hastily spitting directions & instructions as the grogorians start shooting again. “this is all your fucking fault! i told you stealing from them was an awful idea!” hitoshi shrieks as a laser just misses his shoulder, ducking as he runs.

“oh sure, blame me for making sure we stay employed!” denki shrieks right back, your chirping frantically frantically filling the background.

hitoshi feels the heat of another photon bullet just barely graze against his ass as he books it down the narrow hallway, cursing every single god & denki kaminari for the absolute mess he’s been roped into. over the comm link he can hear the andorian yelling muted commands as he leads hitoshi through the vast hallways, the relic just within arms reach.

“i’ll phase you out once you have it!” denki starts, before hitoshi starts shouting again.

“i’m not gonna PHASE through solid rock, denki! just hold off, i’m coming!” he yells through the comm, feet skidding across the rough terrain as he snatches the little gold statue right off the podium. concerned little chirps & squeaks flood the comm, & hitoshi halts all his movements to swear loudly.

“[y/n l/n], you keep your adorable little ass on the ship, you hear me? don't even THINK about it-“ the ground shakes with another blast, the heavy yelling creeping from the farthest corridor.

hitoshi curses every single god & denki kaminari twice. and then he runs.

the maze of corridors gets more & more confusing as he bolts through them, solely relying on denki’s guidance in his ear & the gunfire right on his heels. finally, finally he can see sunlight again, pushing through the open door & stumbling into the street again - right into the waiting trap of about ten grogorian soldiers.

great.

they’d cornered him on both ends, trapping him in their space. denki’s shouting frantically, something about shield interference & blocking & hitoshi’s stomach sinks; they’ve got him.

“go to warp drive.” his voice is so sharp it shocks denki right out of his panicked rambling, the comm quiet.

then a furious “what the fuck did you just say hitoshi shinsou? we’re not leaving you-“

“take [y/n], & go to warp, denki! go, i can hold them off for a little while! the verlo sector, it’s rural enough that they can’t track you!” he bites out, eternally grateful that the grogorians don’t have ULC’s. he eyes them for a moment, takes a breath.

“i love you, denki kaminari, you crazy motherfucker. i love you. i love you too, [y/n]. take care of him for me,” he says softly, lets himself choke up a little, grants himself that one weakness. then he clicks his comm off, draws both his guns, & snarls. “let’s go, assholes! i don’t have damn day!” he shouts, keeps his voice level & confident.

and then he starts firing.

left, right, over his shoulder, he’s never shot so many times in his life, & its still not enough. there’s grogorians on every side, dodging every blast & hitoshi’s resigned himself to dying on this shithole lesiure planet, never seeing denki’s stupid bright smile again, or hearing your laugh.

and then he hears it, loud & wild & it makes both his heart soar & stomach sink.

“STOP SHOOTING MY BOYFRIEND YOU FUCKING JACKASSES!”

there stands denki kaminari in all his andorian glory, six foot six of anger & pent up chaotic energy standing just off the side of the gunfire. he gives hitoshi one big, blinding smile before he’s shooting right alongside him, the pair of them back to back as they fire.

“where’s [y/n]?” hitoshi calls over the sounds of the blasters, too emotional & charged up to address the fact that denki came to save him, denki who always, always stayed on the ship.

“i told them to monitor us from up there! once we take out these shields i can phase us up, i brought the control sleeve!” denki yells back, twisting & ducking as the grogorians rain fire on them.

the pair of them are deadly, lethal even, taking down one hostile alien after another until their guns run out. hitoshi curses at the dead weapon, tossing it to the side as he prepares to fight the remaining six grogorians hand to hand. beside him, denki gets into a similar stance, eyes narrowed sharply in defense.

“enough!” a voice bellows, harsh & loud, ringing out across the entirety of the street. hitoshi pauses, dread building up in the pit of his stomach. the grogorians part, & he hears denki gasp beside him.

the grogorian leader steps out slowly, every step sending a thundering rumble across the land. “you steal from us, fight us at every turn. your intolerance is shameful,” the alien snarls, fury written all over his face. hitoshi doesn’t point out that the grogorians stole that particular relic from the Astonians, & the fact that they’d been chased, not chasing. he has a feeling the man wouldn’t appreciate his sentiments.

“i will kill you myself ! your arrogance knows no bounds!” the alien thunders, hands reaching for the sword tucked into his belt. its easily the size of hitoshi’s entire body, & his blood runs cold.

“since we’re about to die, it’s time i fess up. i’m the one who broke your music box,” denki whispers behind him, hands clinging tight to the back of hitoshi’s shirt.

“oh for god's sake you idiot, we’re about to die & that’s what you tell me?”

“i’ve always loved your ass in these pants. skinny or not, they give you shape,” denki says tearily, & hitoshi nearly screams.

“denki shut up, for the love of space - stop fondling my ass, we’re about to die-“

a set of angry, loud chirps interrupt them all, the grogorian leader turning & snarling. hitoshi stops breathing.

there, in all your tiny tessian glory, stands you, [y/n l/n], clad in hitoshi’s favorite leather pants & denki’s too big sweater. your eyes are narrowed, an expression of pure fury on your face that hitoshi’s never seen before.

it’s a little hot. denki seems to agree, if the gasp he lets out is any indication.

the alien laughs, staring down at you almost in amusement. “come to watch them die, little one? i could probably get a hefty price for you, couldnt i? maybe pleasure slave, the markets always up for those.” you chirp angrily. hitoshi sees red.

“don’t you fucking touch them-“ he snarls, all traces of fear gone as he shoves the grogorian back, fists clenched. behind him, denki spits, eyes lit up with that special kind of rage hitoshi only sees when he's really caught up, the anger boiling in his blood. the grogorian shoves the pair of them back so hard they go sprawling in the dirt, his voice a growl as he steps towards them. “you dare touch me?” he bellows.

behind him, you let out a sound somewhere between a screech & a growl. and then you start shifting.

hitoshi knows that you can shift into any number of things, he’s not stupid. but they’d all been limited to small, cute things, adorable & easy to hold.

the form you take on is neither adorable or small.

a sixteen foot, scaly dragon stands before them, with the face & claws of a lion & the fiery rage of a bat out of hell.

hitoshi screams. denki nearly pisses himself.

the grogorians scatter, shouting & running & you pick them off easily, picking one up between your claws & tearing him clean in half. the rest die in a similar fashion, tossed against buildings & burned alive when they get too close to your flaming breath. the leader dies last, your sharp fangs tearing him limb from limb until he’s a tattered pile of mush at their feet. its singlehandedly the most horrifying, yet gratifying thing hitoshi’s seen in his life.

you shift back to your original form easily, small hands & cheeks covered in blood. there’s a bit of grogorian in your hair. you smile up at them like nothing happened, let out little chirps & squeaks & hitoshi is stunned, really.

denki pulls the bit of grogorian away from your fluffy ears, before wiping the blood off your cheeks & tugging you into a kiss. it’d be cute, if there wasn’t so much carnage around them. you smile up at hitoshi, chirps out something about love and tribe and home.

hitoshi pulls you into a hug, kisses the faintly bloody fluffy hair, & laughs.

“let’s go home,” he agrees easily, takes denki’s hand & thinks, for a moment, that he’s complete.

denki smiles so bright it puts the sun to shame, & you giggle into his chest, cheery as a star.

all the bits align just right, he thinks, & leads his little solar system home.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi :) I... really wanna read a fanfic or two but I can't find one I vibe with xD So... do you know one that's not too long (around 100k words maybe), has hurt and comfort, smut (am I allowed to ask about that?? Ahhhh) and a happy ending? Top!lock would be a bonus but it's not necessary. And if it's a nice AU (like... any kind but no crossovers pls), it would be perfect! :D By the way, I found your blog only a few hours ago and I already feel really comfy and Idk, kinda at home here ^-^

Hi Nonny!!!

Welcome to my corner of the Tumblrsphere!!! I’m so happy you’ve found me, LOL, because I love all my followers and friends! <3

First of all, I think it’s super cute that “not too long” to you is “around 100K” LOL LOL LOL!!! <3 That said, I’d argue all my fic recs are fabulous, LOL. But again, I’m stupidly proud of the wonderful lists I’ve accumulated, because it satisfies my organization kink LOL. And yes, you’re ALWAYS allowed to ask for smut here LOL. 

ANYWAY, so I’m gonna use this ask as an excuse to post up a long-overdue part two to my 50 to 100K fic list! But first, here’s some past lists for the genres you’re looking for:

FIC MASTER PAGES: PG1 || PG 2 || PG 3

Toplock (Mar 2020)

Omegaverse

Please Check PG 3 for all my AU fic lists. There’s a lot :)

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 1: Under 5K Words 

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 2: 5K to 10K Words

Fandom Favourites / Popular Fics

I hope those will get you started! So now, here’s the main event!! Hope you enjoy them!

50 - 100 K WORDS Pt. 2 (Novel Length)

See also:

Fics Under 2000 w.

Fics Under 2000 w. Pt. 2

Fics Under 2000 w. Pt. 3

E-Rated Johnlock for Newcomers Pt 1 (Short Fics under 20K)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K (Aug. 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Long S3/Post-S3 Fics (20K+ w.) [Apr 2020]

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017)

Smut-Free Fics Over 50K (Aug 2019)

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of the SpaceBois go to Space series

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

One Little Change by jadztone (E, 58,312 w. || ASiB Divergence, Fake Relationship, Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bi John / Gay Demisexual Sherlock, Switchlock, Alternating POV, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Love Making, Butt Plugs, Cuddles) – Our story begins right after John and Sherlock's first meeting with Irene Adler in September. It splits off into an AU that imagines them taking a case where they act as bait to hook a killer targeting closeted gays in secret relationships. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, many things happen that have our boys wondering if maybe they have a chance with each other. Then Irene fakes her death on Christmas Eve, and things get a lot more complicated - especially since they still have a killer to catch.

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w. || Notting Hilll AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn't have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

This Thing All Things Devours by cypress_tree (E, 63,844 w., 15 Ch. || In Time AU || Science Fiction, Dystopian Universe, First Meetings, Action / Adventure, Romance) – In 2169, time is money—literally. Humans are genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, when the numbers on their arm start counting down from one year. When that time is up, they die. The only way to get more time is to earn it, borrow it, or steal it.John Watson lives day-to-day in the crowded slums of Zone 13. He never imagined living any differently—until he meets the practically-immortal Sherlock, and helps him on a case to track a local time-thief...

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU ||  Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w., 18 Ch. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) –  A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 Series by distantstarlight (E, 96,540 w. across 31 stories || Prompt Ficlets, Assorted Kinks, PWP) – A collection in response to the 31 Days of Porn Challenge issued by AtlinMerrik! Thanks for doing that because this has been buttload of fun (that joke never gets old). All stories will be brief stand-alone one-shots.

The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w., 23 Ch. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) – Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 97,884 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

[calpalirwin]

Little Star

Summary: Ashton isn’t the only one wrapped around his little girl’s finger. 

A/N: My brain child with @creator-appreciator​ grows. 

Word Count: 2.9k

__

Part 1

“I want about 6. 8. I’m gonna go hard,” Ashton’s voice said through Sam’s phone. From on the other side of the couch, Ashton’s real voice asked, “Why are you watching that interview? It’s like… 2, 3 years ago.”

“6 or 8 kids, huh?” Sam asked in lieu of answering him.

Ashton shrugged. “I mean, I dunno. Be nice I suppose. But also I was just being stupid.”

“So, like 1 would be fine for the time being?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you saying you want to have a baby? Like now?”

“Well… not now now. But like 9-ish months now? How would you feel about that?”

“A-are you saying what I think you’re saying? Are you pregnant? Are we having a baby?”

“I have an appointment tomorrow to confirm. But yeah. Pretty sure.”

“I-” he started, but launched himself across the couch to give her a hard kiss instead. “What time is your appointment?”

“You want to come with me?”

“Of course I want to come with you! We’re having a baby!”

“Fletch, you’re crying,” Sam said, wiping her thumb across her husband’s cheek.

“Good tears,” he sniffed, his hands rubbing along her stomach. “Oh, I can’t wait to meet you.”

~~~

Ashton’s hand tightened its grip on Sam as they heard the rapid “swwwoooop swwwoooop swwwoooop” of their baby’s heartbeat on the monitor. “You okay?” Sam chuckled, flexing her hand.

“Terrified,” he whispered back in awe. He crooked his index finger at the screen in a little wave. “Hey, sweetheart. I’m your daddy.”

Sam swallowed thickly, tears forming in her eyes. “You are already so loved, little one,” she choked out.

~~~

The wait to 12 weeks to break the news to everyone was nothing short of torture for everyone all around as Ashton and Sam didn’t trust themselves to be around their friends without blurting out the news. So when Ashton finally corralled everyone over, Calum hugged Sam tightly before slugging Ashton in the arm as hard as he could, Luke and Michael following suit, the girls much nicer in just giving the couple both a hug hello

“Ow!” Ashton hissed through his teeth, rubbing his arm. “The fuck was that for?”

“Haven’t seen you guys in like a month. So what the fuck is going on?” Calum demanded, getting straight to the point.

“Sit down. We have presents for you all to make up for being shitty friends these last few weeks,” Sam said, gesturing for them to have a seat.

“You’re not a shitty friend, princess,” Calum told her.

“Gee thanks…” Ashton rolled his eyes. 

Michael laughed. “Seriously what Cal said. You guys just got married. Of course you’re gonna fall out of contact for a while.”

“Will you two shut up? If they feel bad and want to give us presents, let them give us presents!” Luke put in.

“Oh relax, you’ll get your present, partner,” Sam chuckled. “Fletch?”

“Yep, on it.” Ashton gave each couple a small little box. “They’re couple gifts, so sorry about that part. But we’re pretty sure you’ll love it.”

“Do we all open them together or?” Calum questioned.

“Yeah, you can open them all together,” Sam suggested, sitting back, excitement coursing through both her and Ashton as they awaited their friends’ reactions.

There was a sharp intake of breath as the lids popped open and the sonograms fell into laps. Then, “DIBS ON GODFATHER!” Calum, Luke, and Michael all shouted at once.

“What?! No! Fuck you guys! I’m godfather!” Calum claimed.

“Fuck you, Crystal and I are actually married too. We should be godparents.”

“Sierra and I are engaged! That should count!” Luke protested.

“No! I’m godfather. I’m original bub. Em’s is Sam’s childhood best friend. I officiated their fuckin’ wedding! I should be godfather! It makes the most sense,” Calum kept defending his stance.

“Would you three shut up?” Emily asked with an eye roll. “They’re having a fuckin’ baby!”

“Yeah, we’re supposed to be congratulating them,” Sierra put in.

“Oh, a baby!” Crystal beamed, her eyes watering. “Michael isn’t that great?!”

“See?!” Calum pointed a finger at Michael. “Your wife wants a baby! You can’t have a baby and be godfather to Ash and Sam’s baby, you greedy fuck.”

“Okay, but if Crystal and I have a baby then we should definitely be godparents because we’d be actual fuckin’ parents,” Michael pointed out. 

“I want to be godfather!” Luke pouted.

“You can all be godfather,” Ashton and Sam compromised.

“Unacceptable!” the guys screeched, rising to their feet. “There’s only one way to settle this,” Calum decided. “Godfather Olympics. Diaper changing. Feeding. Taking care of one of those robot babies,” he ticked each idea off on his fingers. “And… something else. We need at least 4 in the event of a tie. Oh! Best lullaby to soothe the baby with.”

“Someone get me a tortilla, and a bottle of mustard and ketchup,” Michael said, seeming to agree with Calum’s demands. “Gotta put it in writing.”

To give them all fair enough time to write a lullaby, the events were spread out over a course of the next four months. The problem ended up being that Calum won diaper changing, Michael won feeding, and then they both tied with the robot baby. The lullaby was supposed to be the tie-breaker, but Luke pulled through for his first victory- after literally crying to Ashton to help him win at least one event.

“Well, Mike and I are still tied for first, so good job to Luke, I guess. But he still lost,” Calum said, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, that’s nice,” Sam said, not really paying attention because Duke was curled up on her swollen abdomen. “Yeah, you love your baby, don’t you Dukey?” she asked, scratching the dog’s ears. Blue was too big to lay on Sam, but the pup’s ears perked up at the word “baby” and her nose came up to nuzzle into Sam’s ribs. “Oh, yes, Blue, that’s your baby too, I know,” Sam told her, petting Blue’s head with her other hand. 

“Looks like the dogs are better godparents than the actual humans,” Ashton giggled.

Sam gasped, “Fletch! That’s a great idea! What do you think, Dukey? You wanna be the baby’s godfather?”

“What?!” Luke cried in outrage. “You’re gonna pick the dogs?!”

“You lost!” Calum and Michael told him.

“So, why aren’t you angry?!”

Michael shrugged, “Honestly, it sounds like something we’d do.”

“Yeah,” Calum admitted with a sigh of defeat. “No one gets their feelings hurt this way.”

“Okay, but it’s still kinda unfair to me because I only have 1 dog,” Luke chimed back in.

“So do I,” Calum told him.

Michael snorted, “Yeah right. Blue is basically your dog like Duke is, Cal. Leaving me and you tied again at 2 a piece, and Luke with his sad 1 point.”

“Okay, but they’re dogs. They’re not gonna know the difference,” Calum said.

“So, why don’t we all just share being godfather?” Luke suggested.

Ashton shared an eye roll with Sam before going, “Genius idea, Luke! Can’t believe we didn’t think of that before.”

“I sense sarcasm.”

“Whatever,” Calum said, moving past the Godfather Olympics that declared no real winner. “Now, that we’ve decided we’re all gonna be godfather, can we know what our godkid’s name is?”

“Well, we don’t want to know the gender because Sam-” Ashton started to explain but Sam cut him off.

“Because gender is a social construct. So we’re doing it old-school and waiting.”

“Okay but do you have name ideas at least?”

Ashton smiled sheepishly, shaking his head. “We’re still figuring that out. Sorry guys.”

“A nursery theme then?”

“Space,” they both answered.

The guys nodded in agreement. “Alright, we can work with that.”

~~~

As Operation Starry Night Nursery went underway, Ashton brought up the topic of names. “We only got a couple more months until this little one makes their appearance. They kinda need a name, baby.”

“I know,” Sam said with a weary sigh. “I kinda like the name Stella if it’s a girl.”

“Stella? That’s not even your favorite All Time Low song.”

Sam laughed, smacking his chest lightly. “Not after an All Time Low song! It means ‘star.’ Like how the nursery is spaced-themed.”

“Well her middle name can’t be Rosa because I don’t want people thinking I named my daughter after a beer.”

Sam gave out another snort of laughter. “No! Jesus, Fletch. Stella Grace.”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s really pretty. But what if we have a boy?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. And I don’t know if it’s because I just don’t like my ideas. Or if it’s because I don’t think we’ll need a boy name.”

“Weeeeeelllllll…” Ashton said slowly, drawing out the word, his gaze flickering over to the nightstand littered with sonogram pictures and an envelope that held the gender. “We could find out. If you want.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, “You really wanna know, huh?”

“I really do,” Ashton told her, pulling the puppy dog face. “Like so fuckin’ bad. And I know I shouldn’t. But… yeah.”

“Oh, thank God!” Sam laughed in relief. “I want to know too. Gimme the damn envelope!”

Ashton quickly gave it to her, drumming his hands on his thighs for a drum roll, adding to the effect by beatboxing a drum beat to go with it, while Sam tore into the envelope. “Baby Irwin is… a girl! We’re having a girl!” she cheered with a gleeful laugh.

Ashton let out a choked giggle, a tear sliding down his cheek as his hands flew to Sam’s stomach. “Is that what you are? Huh? Are you my little star, Stella?”

There was a ripple of movement underneath his hands that had him and Sam both giggling more. “Yeah? You like that name? Oh, there are so many people waiting to meet you, Stella. People who love you more than you’ll ever know.”

~~~

“Twinkle twinkle, little star,” Ashton sang softly as he danced slowly around the room with Stella in his arms.

“Ashton Irwin, professional rock musician, singing lullabies in a hospital room,” Sam teased lightly. “Someone pinch me, I must be dreaming.”

“If it is a dream, let me sleep,” he answered. “I don’t ever wanna wake up from this.”

“Well, get your time in now. You know once the guys get her, you’re never getting her back. Shit, Calum and Emily might move in if we’re not careful.”

Ashton chuckled at the thought. “Might just all move into Mike’s. He’s got enough rooms.”

“While that’s not half bad, I’d rather not raise my baby in a mansion. She’s gonna be spoiled enough as is. Would like her to have some semblance of normal.”

“When have we ever been normal?”

Sam laughed, “Yeah, I suppose your right. But you guys did work hard on the nursery. So we probably shouldn’t move.”

“Yeah, plus I kinda like our house.”

“Me too.”

“Knock, knock,” Calum announced softly, rapping his knuckles against the open door, Emily behind him.

“Hey,” Sam greeted with a smile. “Where’s everyone else?”

“We didn’t wanna crowd you guys, so we’re taking turns. Michael and I played Rock, Paper, Scissors for first slot.”

“And what about Luke?” Ashton asked with a giggle.

“He cheated at Godfather Olympics so he was disqualified. You’ll see him last. Now gimme da baby.” He made grabby hands before taking the bundle from Ashton, cradling the infant carefully to him. “Oh, hey there, little one. I’m your Uncle Cal. And this is your Auntie Emily.”

“Can you say hi to them, Stella?” Ashton asked in a quiet, but higher pitched tone, the type of voice one adopts around newborns.

“Stella?” Calum asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam. “That’s not your favorite All Time Low song.”

Sam facepalmed herself. “I did not name my daughter after an All Time Low song. I gave her that name because her father loves space and her name means ‘star.’ Jesus…”

“Her middle name isn’t Rosa, is it?”

“Jesus, it’s like you two are twins…” Sam said with an eye roll as Ashton busted up in a fit of giggles. “No. It’s Grace. Stella Grace.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful little girl,” Emily commented. “Now gimme that baby.”

“Fine, fine,” Calum huffed, handing over Stella. “Oh, Mike said he had news. Won’t tell us what. Said he wanted to tell you guys first.

“Oh?” Ashton and Sam asked.

Calum shrugged. “No idea. But he seems excited.”

The rest of the short visit passed in silence aside from the cooed voices at Stella, asking her if she knew that she was the cutest little girl. At the fifteen minute mark, Michael appeared in the doorway with Crystal and a teddy bear. “Time’s up, Cal,” Michael said with a knowing smirk.

“Kiss ass,” Calum scoffed, jerking his chin at the teddy bear.

“It’s not from us,” Michael answered innocently.

“Whatever,” Calum rolled his eyes playfully. He crossed the room to give Sam a kiss on the cheek. “Congratulations, princess. She’s gorgeous just like her momma.”

“Thanks, bub. Em. See you guys later?”

“Yeah, we’ll all visit again when you guys get settled back home,” Emily promised.

“So who’s this?” Michael asked, taking Stella from Calum in a gentle manner and Calum and Emily made their exit.

“This is Stella Grace. And Stella, this is your Uncle Mike and Auntie Crystal,” Ashton introduced.

“Oh, well aren’t you precious!” Crystal exclaimed, tears brimming in her eyes. “Isn’t she the sweetest, Michael?”

“Yeah, she’s a cutie,” Michael agreed. “Hey, Stella, we brought you a present. Only it’s not from us. It’s from a friend of yours, actually.”

“Yeah, Cal said you had news? Is that tied to the bear?” Sam prompted.

“Yeah. So, when you guys announced you were pregnant, Crystal and I got to talking. And we didn’t want to feel like we were trying to upstage you guys or anything, so we kept talking. But then talking got carried away. And… well, I'm sure you can guess.”

“Pregnant?” Sam croaked at Crystal.

Crystal nodded shyly. “Yeah. Just passed the three month mark.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Ashton said with a big smile, clapping Michael on the shoulder, before giving Crystal a tight hug.

“Oh, congratulations, guys!” Sam told them. “Another little one, Fletch, can you believe it? Stella, you’re getting a cousin!”

Stella opened her mouth in a tiny yawn, making Michael giggle with glee. “Yeah, that’s right! We’re getting a friend just for you. They won’t be here for a bit to say hello, so they asked if we could give you this teddy bear for now. Is that okay? Can the teddy bear be your friend until your real friend gets here?”

“That’s fuckin’ awesome, Mike. I’m so happy for you guys,” Ashton said, his cheeks sore from his grin.

“Thanks, mate.” Michael gave Stella over to Crystal, and then sat down on the hospital bed next to Sam, pulling her towards him in a side hug. “I think I officially won on the nicknames, queen. You got quite the princess over there.”

Sam laughed in agreement, “Yeah, I think you did too. Just don’t tell Cal.”

He held up a pinky for her to interlock hers with. “It’ll be our little secret.”

“Is it my turn yet?” Luke’s voice piped up.

“Get in here,” Ashton beckoned, wrapping an arm around Luke’s shoulder. “Come meet Stella.”

“Aw, cuz she’s a star!” Sierra connected the dots.

“Huh, I thought it was cuz of All Time Low.” Michael shrugged. “Oh well.”

“Jack Barakat from All Time Low?” Luke asked with a dumb grin.

“Oh, shit!” Ashton said, clapping a hand to his back pocket for his phone. “That reminds me I have people to call. Fuck, Mum’s gonna be so pissed I spaced… I’ll be right back. Baby, you good?”

“Yeah, I’m good, Fletch.”

When Crystal handed Stella to Luke, he made big eyes over at Sierra. “Oh! Can we have one?!” he pleaded.

“Funny story,” Michael coughed.

Sierra tore her eyes away from Stella to shoot Crystal a look. “Are you pregnant?!”

“13 weeks tomorrow,” Crystal confirmed.

Luke broke down sobbing, and from the hallway they heard an angry, “Oh, come on!” from Calum before the man appeared in the room. “Luke found out before me?! Luke?!” he whisper-shouted at Michael.

“What were you doing in the hallway?” was the deflection.

“Well, after you came in here, I went to the gift shop since how someone broke the no gift rule. And when I went to the waiting room, Luke was gone, so I figured he was here.”

“Wait, we were allowed to bring gifts?” Luke asked in confusion, passing Stella to Sierra. “Damn it! No one tells me anything!”

“You’re telling me! Mike, seriously? Luke?!”

“We were planning on telling everyone later on. With the exception of Ash and Sam of course,” Crystal explained. “But Luke just asked Sierra for a baby, so it slipped out.”

“I guess that’s fair…” Calum huffed.

“Wait, so are we allowed to bring gifts or not?” Luke repeated his question.

“No,” Calum and Michael told him. “Mike and Crystal broke the rule on a technicality. Their gift to Stella is really from their baby. And the gift shop sucks. Can find better shit online for half the price,” Calum furthered explained. “Where’d Ash go?”

“I stepped out to call my Mum,” Ashton said from behind Calum. “She wants pictures. Sam, you up for that?”

“Yeah, I’m good, Fletch.”

“Alright, family photo time. Get in,” Ashton directed and set up his camera, before sitting on the other side of Sam and taking Stella from Sierra. “Say ‘twinkle twinkle little star.’”

“Twinkle twinkle, little star!” everyone grinned as the camera went off in a series of little spurts.

__

Tag List

@frontmanash​​ @goeatsomelife​​ @flameraine​​ @creator-appreciator​​ @cxddlyash​​ @1-irwin-94​​ @sparkling-calm​​ @tea4sykes​​ @youngblood199456​​ @5-seconds-of-obsession​​ @gosh-im-short​​ @aquarius-hood1996​​ @talkfastromance4​​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​​ @philthepegacorn​​ @ashtonlftv​ @miirandaaa​​ @karajaynetoday​ @myfavfanficsever​ @stormrider505​ @cashtonisruiningmylife​ @another-lonely-heart-blog​ @cullen-collective​

[imaginedhaven]

Rules of Engagement: Chapter Three

Link to Masterpost

Prince Dorian arrived in Orynth four days later, three days before her birthday, and Aelin greeted him with a smile. She had donned a simple gown of Terrasen green for the occasion, and a circlet of twisted golden strands kept her loose hair from falling into her face. “Prince Dorian, it’s an honor to meet again after so long,” she said in welcome. “I thank you for taking the journey from Adarlan to celebrate with us.”

Dorian answered her smile with an easy grin of his own, sapphire eyes sparkling against dark curls. “The journey was easy enough, and the pleasure is mine,” he said. “And it is good to meet you again, after… what, almost eleven years, now?”

“A long time, indeed,” Aelin replied. “I do hope your visit will give us time to become reacquainted with one another.”

“As do I,” he smiled. “Perhaps you could reacquaint me with the castle grounds, if you have the time?”

Aelin glanced to her right, where Regent Darrow stood, and he nodded his approval. “I certainly have the time,” she replied. “Are you tired from your journey? Should we meet at a later time?”

“If I’m being honest, your company would likely be far more relaxing than unpacking my things,” the prince grinned, offering her his arm.

Aelin laughed softly and stepped up to him, gracefully slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow and leading him away from the throne room. “Were you hoping for a tour of the grounds, or the common areas of the castle?” she asked.

Dorian laughed, the sound a rich baritone that filled the hallway in which they stood. “You’ve caught me, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I’ve heard tales of the Library of Orynth, and now that we’ve slipped away from your regent and he doesn’t expect to see me until the evening I was hoping you could point me in the right direction.”

“I didn’t realize you were so interested in literature,” Aelin blurted out before she could stop herself. “Pardon me, I know as Crown Prince of Adarlan you would have to be well-read, but…”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you thought I was a warrior,” he replied, eyes wide in feigned terror. “I can wield a sword well enough, my guard made sure of that, but I’ll admit I would rather be reading.”

Aelin smiled and began leading him toward the library. “I’m afraid my lessons in magic take up most of my days now, but before that I loved sneaking off to the library myself,” she confessed. “Truly, I believe you could find a book or a scroll about any topic you imagined in our collection. I’ll admit that I miss it, so I’ll take you there myself, on one condition.”

Dorian gave her a conspiratorial grin. “And what might that condition be?”

“You must allow me to accompany you. After all, my regent likely thinks I’m showing you the rose garden, or perhaps the stables. It would seem odd if I simply abandoned you now.”

“That seems fair enough,” he allowed. “Perhaps you could direct me to some of your favorites.”

“Oh, I’m not sure your visit is long enough for that list,” she said with a laugh. “We’ll have to discuss a few of them, though, as well as some of yours.”

As they turned a corner and she opened a door, Aelin smiled at one of her favorite sights in the world.

The library encompassed an entire floor on its own, and she suspected there was even more to it than what she had explored. Each wall was filled floor to ceiling with books and scrolls, and each room was packed with as many shelves as it could reasonably hold. It was more than enough for a person to get lost in, and Aelin had herself, on many occasions. The shelves were loosely categorized by topic, with the newer books toward the entrance and the older ones in harder to reach areas. The oldest scrolls, Aelin knew, were kept shielded by a layer of glass, with only the most experienced of their historians allowed to move them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked as she glanced over at her companion.

Dorian simply stared around himself, eyes wide as he took in the vast array of texts that made up this section of the library. “I hardly know where to begin,” he breathed.

“I felt the same way myself,” Aelin admitted, “the first time I came here. It’s easy to get lost if you’re not careful. And what you’re seeing is only one chamber, the library takes up at least this entire floor.”

“Truly?”

“And that’s only the parts I’ve explored myself,” she grinned. “Is there a particular topic that holds your interest? Philosophy? History? The arts?”

And as Dorian began to tell her of his most recent finds in the Adarlan library, Aelin led him toward her favorite corner. A window on each wall gave the area light during most hours of the day, and a small desk sat tucked against the southern wall. In front of the desk was a chair, worn but still comfortable, and writing supplies were neatly laid out on the desk’s surface. It was just enough space for a few pieces of paper in addition to a single book, and she had spent countless hours in this very space as she learned about the kingdom she was to inherit.

A small corner of the desk was scorched, and Aelin ran her fingertips across the burned wood fondly. “I did this when I was eight,” she said. “I had slipped away from my parents, and I was hiding among the shelves when I found this little desk. One of the guardsmen found me, but I was so lost in the tale I was reading that I didn’t hear him approach until his hand was on my shoulder. It was the first time my magic truly manifested, and I was banned from the library for almost a year.”

“What made them change their minds?” Dorian asked as he inspected the scorch marks himself.

Aelin laughed softly. “Mostly the fact that they couldn’t keep me out,” she admitted. “I kept sneaking in whenever I could. Even now, when I could ask for whatever books I wish to be delivered to my rooms…”

Dorian nodded. “I agree. It’s not quite the same, is it? I’ve always preferred what I found myself.”

As they continued to talk, Aelin allowed her mind to wander. This meeting had already gone better than she could have possibly dreamed. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard to be married to him, she mused.

If only her magic lessons were proceeding as smoothly as this arrangement was beginning to.

~*~*~

The next morning, Aelin grunted as her back hit the dirt of the training grounds for the third time. With a frustrated growl, she rolled onto her front and lifted herself onto her hands and knees, only allowing herself a single breath before springing back to her feet and whirling around to once more face her attacker.

Aedion laughed where he stood above her, one hand still extended in an offer to help her to her feet. “You realize you don’t actually have to do this, right?” he asked. “No one expects you to be a master of hand-to-hand combat, especially given your magic and your skills with a knife.”

“I don’t always have a knife, and I can’t rely on my magic,” Aelin replied, tucking a strand of stray hair back into her braid. “I have to be able to take on someone bigger and stronger than me, or at least not lose terribly.”

Aedion looked unimpressed, arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against a fence post. “And this has nothing whatsoever to do with how your magic training is going,” he drawled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said haughtily. “My training is—”

He cut her off with a laugh. “Cousin, for that to work I would’ve needed to not witness your training myself. You two really started off on the wrong foot, didn’t you?”

That didn’t begin to describe it, really, but Aelin knew there was a limit to what she could tell him. “You could say that. He’s so…”

As she grasped for words, Aedion lifted a single golden eyebrow. “I’ve never known you to lack an opinion,” he remarked. “Don’t tell me you’re uncertain now.”

“Infuriating,” she finally snarled. “He’s absolutely infuriating. Condescending. Smug. Patronizing. Maddening.” With each word she spat, she threw another punch at Aedion.

Of course, he neatly blocked each attack she launched at him. “Don’t you think in this subject he might know best? I think a few centuries of honing your magic for offensive tactics as much as he has would allow someone to be a little confident in their own knowledge.”

“I’d feel better about it if he wasn’t so… him,” she growled. “It’s like nothing I do is even close to good enough, or even enough to merit any kind of reaction at all!”

Aedion laughed then. “He’s got good insight, certainly. He can’t have just guessed that the easiest way to get under your skin is to act like you’re not getting under his.”

With a shout, Aelin darted in again. This time, she finally managed to land a glancing blow that slid along his ribs. With a knife it would have been devastating, but as it was he just grinned at her. “Better,” he said. “You have to remember your targets are different when you don’t have a blade, though.”

She growled in response and admitted, “I got lucky. You were distracted.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he replied. “Distraction is a valid tactic, used correctly. It may be your best advantage in this kind of situation. Believe it or not, you’re not always going to be the biggest or strongest person in the room. You have to use other strengths.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she sighed.

Aedion shrugged. “Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. But I don’t think it’s wrong to do what it takes to make sure you can fight another day. Now. Is this really about learning hand-to-hand combat, or do you honestly think you need an excuse to talk to your own cousin about what’s on your mind?”

Aelin laughed and carefully untwisted the knot she had tied her braided hair into. “Please,” she said breezily. “You know I have no problem with interrupting anything unimportant. Besides, training with you was the only way I could get out of training with… him.”

“Oh, so we’re not even saying his name now?” Aedion grinned.

“Is there a reason we should be?” she asked. “I’ve heard that saying someone’s name while they’re absent can attract… unwanted attention. Especially from someone whose hearing is naturally heightened because he’s not human.”

Her cousin sighed, running a hand through his own golden locks. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

“I don’t trust him,” Aelin replied. “The first full-blooded Fae to visit our court in years, not to mention blood-sworn to their queen, who I also don’t trust. I’m surprised you seem to be getting along with him as well as you are, if I’m being honest.”

Aedion shrugged in response. “He’s a warrior, through and through. Very practical. I can respect that. Besides, his training with the Bane has been enlightening.”

“You let him train with you, knowing that he could be made to report on every detail he happens to see at his queen’s will?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he grinned. “I see everything that he sees. Let him report that we train hard. Let him tell her our strength as a company. And if she presses further, let him admit that he helped us become stronger. I’m certain he’ll find a way around mentioning that fact for as long as possible.”

Aelin grinned back at him. “You let him in to limit how much he would feel comfortable reporting. How devious.”

“Well, we can’t all be you, but I do try sometimes,” he replied.

Aelin took a step back and stretched, arms over her head, before relaxing once more. “Well. Keep up the good work. I’m sure I’m going to want to try this again soon.”

“Is it really necessary?” Aedion asked. “You could just—”

But before she could hear his suggestions on how to deal with her training she was already walking away from the field. She knew that Rowan would find her for training in the afternoon regardless of where she hid, but she was hoping she could spend just a little more time in the library before he dragged her out. Perhaps it would be merely delaying the inevitable, but the last thing she wanted at this point was to sit around and wait for him.

~*~*~

Predictably, Aelin had only just found what appeared to be a promising book when Rowan found her. Knowing her time was up and it was pointless to fight it, Aelin quietly handed her find to a librarian and asked for it to be delivered to her rooms before following him back down the stairs and out to the training grounds.

Despite having known that it was inevitable that he would find her, Aelin found herself scowling at his broad shoulders as they walked. “I hope you enjoyed your morning,” she offered as they left the castle and began walking to the grounds. “After all, you so frequently mention what you could do if you weren’t so busy with me, it must have been delightful.”

“Some of us actually work,” he replied shortly. “Not everyone has the luxury of whiling away their days indoors among friends, regardless of whether or not you’re gracing them with your presence.”

Aelin took a deep breath in an effort to maintain her calm. Perhaps her best recourse would be to do as he did and act as though she was unbothered by anything. “I hardly think you would consider a day indoors a luxury,” she said lightly. “As a matter of fact, if I didn’t know you were assigned your own rooms when you arrived I would wonder if perhaps you spent your nights nesting in a tree.”

Rowan paused at the entrance to the training grounds, just long enough to open the gate and let both of them in. “Perhaps if you spent less time wondering about my sleeping arrangements and more time focusing on your training, you’d have already mastered your shift and possibly even your magic.”

Aelin felt her fingers curl into fists at her side, and it was an effort to relax them again. Calm, she reminded herself. She would keep her calm. She wouldn’t fall victim to his condescension, not today. Instead, she reached up to her braided hair and carefully wound it around itself until it was knotted out of her way. “I think you overestimate the amount of time I spend wondering about your sleeping arrangements,” she mused. “Believe me when I say I try to spend as little time outside of our delightful little sessions thinking about you as I can get away with.”

Rather than show any outward reaction to her comments, Rowan simply sat in the center of the training ground. “You could be rid of that burden even sooner, you know. All you have to do is shift.”

Aelin scowled as she joined him on the ground, carefully crossing her legs and tucking her feet underneath herself. “What does it matter to you, anyway?” she asked. “What’s stopping you from telling Regent Darrow that we’re through and leaving?”

“I presume you haven’t forgotten about the oath I swore to my queen,” came his reply. “I am under orders to help you gain control over your abilities, and cannot leave until my task is complete.”

“That certainly hasn’t stopped you before,” Aelin snapped as heat began coursing through her veins.

Faintly, as if through a thick blanket, she felt the air around them grow cold and still. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rowan snarled, fangs exposed and pine-green eyes sharp and frigid.

Aelin laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. “Your precious oath to your precious queen,” she mocked as he growled. “It hasn’t stopped you from leaving before.”

The wind picked up suddenly, blasting her onto her back in a frigid whirlwind—or was it the male himself and not his magic that had knocked her back? It had happened so quickly, she couldn’t be certain. His fingers encircled her wrists as he pinned her to the dirt, and as Aelin looked on his eyes grew cold and dark. “Do not speak in that tone about that which you do not understand,” he said sharply.

Gods, what had she said that had provoked such rage in his face but such deadness in his eyes? Despite a small voice in the back of her head shrieking about caution, she pressed on. “I fail to see what there is to understand or not understand,” she continued. “You’ve left me before. You do it every gods-damned rutting day. You’ve left me completely alone, with nothing but my own thoughts to remind myself of what a failure I am.” All of it was true, and suddenly Aelin realized just how much it had been bothering her all this time.

For all that she gave the outward appearance of being surrounded by friends, Aelin knew there were precious few people she could trust with every part of herself lest they abandon her. Her cousin, for all she knew he loved her, put the security of her kingdom above herself—as he should, and as she had asked of him. Lysandra was more likely to be understanding, but less likely to fully grasp the complexity of the messes she had put herself into through her own actions. She couldn’t even be certain she could trust her dearest friends, for they had kingdoms of their own to maintain and would quite possibly take advantage of any weakness she let them see.

Worse still, most of those people who had known all of her were lost to her. Her parents had passed long ago, and the one person who had taken the time to learn all of her, the person she would’ve left everything behind for if she had to—he was gone, too, taken beyond her reach. Moreover, anyone who she could tell about him would immediately realize what she had come to know in the years since his passing. Her first and only love had been her greatest weakness and her biggest failure of them all, in more ways than one, and nothing she could do now could possibly make up for it.

While she had been lost in her thoughts, Rowan had only grown more irate. “Well, perhaps if you could master something as basic as shifting you wouldn’t think of yourself as such a failure,” he retorted as his grip on her wrists tightened.

Suddenly, a deadly calm washed over Aelin as she realized she had had enough of this. “If you’re trying to provoke me into shifting, you’d be better off hitting me again,” she snapped. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, and I certainly don’t need help remembering my own failings. Or you could just leave me again, you know, like you’re so good at doing.”

A growl filled the air and then there was a sharp pain piercing the junction of her neck and her shoulder. It took her a moment to grasp what had happened, but as Rowan spat a mouthful of blood—her blood—onto the ground, she realized he had bitten her.

Through her sudden rage at such a possessive and claiming act from someone who hated her as much as Rowan did, she heard a shriek and dimly recognized it as her own voice. The ground appeared before her, silver hair splayed across the dirt—had she flipped them? She couldn’t recall—and her hands clawed at his chest as a brief moment of agony surged through her.

Then she bared her own fangs at him, and there was nothing but fire.

~*~*~

Later that evening, Aelin paced in the hallway outside of the healers’ wing, hands clutching at a small jar of salve she had taken while no one was paying attention. It had been an impulsive decision to take it, and one she didn’t regret, but following through with the next phase of her plan was significantly more daunting. Even as nerves threatened to overtake her, though, she knew she had to carry on. It was her own fault she was in this mess, anyhow.

It would be easy to blame Rowan, and to say he had brought it on himself through his own actions. It would be easy to stew in self-righteous anger threaded through with self-pity. But it would be wrong to ignore her own role in the fight they’d had, and the consequences of her own loss of control were seared into her mind’s eye.

After he had bitten her, Aelin had finally, finally shifted—and then promptly lost control of her magic. Flames had swirled around them both, singeing the ends of her own hair as well as his. Before long, though, she was left gasping for breath, collapsed against his unfairly broad chest as the flames around them extinguished. He had pulled the air away from her, she realized now, and in so doing had deprived the fire of the fuel it required. Her aunt truly had sent a well-suited trainer, as angry as it still made her that it had been deemed necessary. Not someone with similar powers, but someone who could contain her as she learned to control the fires that burned within her.

That is, assuming he wanted anything to do with her now. Which he probably didn’t.

When she had shifted her weight to pull away from him, he had done his best to hide his reaction, but her enhanced eyesight had caught the tiniest flinch. She had looked down and gasped, scrambling away from him.

There were two holes in the fabric of his shirt from where she had burned through it, and underneath those holes bright red welts had just been beginning to blister.

Before she had gathered the nerve to say anything to him at all he had already stood, stalking away with some snarled remark about her lack of control and leaving her to stare after him. She had then looked down at her trembling hands, curling them into fists as she realized that of course her own flesh was unharmed. Aside from occasional scorched hair, she had never once harmed herself with her own power. She had only harmed those around her, and this lapse in control had been no exception.

Aelin shook her head in a vain attempt to clear her mind. She’d gone out of her way to stay in her rooms for the evening meal, doing her best to read and not worry about what was passing without her. It wasn’t until Aedion had returned from the evening meal that she learned that Rowan had been absent as well.

She had then gone to check with the palace healers, but it was apparent that he hadn’t stopped by to have his burns—the burns she had given him—examined. And so she had stolen a small jar of healing salve, which led her to her current predicament.

The ideal situation would be for her to find his rooms empty and simply leave the jar somewhere he could find it. Even as she thought it, though, she realized both that it was unlikely to work and that it wouldn’t be enough. No, she needed to own up to her shortcomings and apologize properly.

Aelin growled softly and tugged at the ends of her newly-trimmed hair, which now fell just below her shoulders. It was ridiculous to be this concerned over him when he was so clearly unconcerned with her, but she couldn’t stop reliving the moment she realized just how badly she had burned him. Even though most people would say he had certainly provoked it, the memory still turned her stomach.

She took a deep breath and strode purposefully to the rooms Rowan had been assigned before she could talk herself out of it. Luckily, she ran into no one else along the way. It was confusing enough to her that she was doing this to begin with; she couldn’t imagine trying to explain it to anyone else.

Steeling her nerves, she knocked on his door and received only a wordless grunt in reply. Taking that as permission, Aelin carefully opened the door and froze at the sight that greeted her.

She had obviously interrupted Rowan in the middle of cutting his own singed hair; a pile of silver strands laid on his desk beside a knife. His shirt was off, and before she could stop herself her eyes traced along the swirling lines of his tattoo. Without clothing to cover the marks she could see that it flowed unbroken along the entire left side of his body, across his shoulder and down his arm all the way to his fingertips. He turned to face her, pine-green eyes narrowing in irritation, and she thrust the jar of salve in his direction before he could say a word. “For the burns,” she managed.

He delicately took the jar from her grasp and inspected it before setting it aside. “I deserved it,” he admitted, and Aelin knew without asking that this was as close to an apology for his own actions as she was likely to receive.

Aelin shrugged in reply, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear that was once more rounded rather than pointed like his own. “That doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad about it, or that I don’t.”

Rowan frowned, studying her as though she was a particularly stubborn puzzle. “We need to work on your control,” he finally said. “I told you to shift, not to throw a magical tantrum.”

Just like that Aelin forgot she had ever felt bad for her part in it, the feeling replaced by the sparks of irritation that constantly burned through her whenever they spoke. “You didn’t tell me to do anything,” she snapped. “You bit me. What the rutting hell was that, anyway, some sort of domineering Fae male horseshit?”

He shrugged, and sympathy warred with vindictive delight as the motion pulled his burned chest taut. “It worked, didn’t it? You shifted. Now you just need to learn to do it on command instead of reacting like a sheltered princess who didn’t get her way.”

Aelin crossed her arms as she leaned against the door frame. “I fail to see what my title has to do with any of this,” she said.

“I’ve spent a great deal of time observing how you act these past few weeks,” he replied. “The only thing holding you back is your own fear.”

“I think it’s reasonable to be afraid of hurting the people around me,” she snarled.

“Which is why you need to learn,” Rowan snapped back as he finally stood. “If you can’t manage to set your fears aside and learn some godsdamned control, you’ll truly become the worthless figurehead you fear you are. I have neither the time nor the patience to coach you through whatever trifling fears you’ve experienced in your terribly short life, nor do I care. I am here to teach you to control your magic, not to assuage your sense of self-pity, and certainly not to be your friend. The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can both be rid of each other. Hate me if you must. I do not care.”

Before Aelin could reach through the sudden wave of tingling numbness that rushed through her and find the words to respond to such obvious animosity, Rowan crossed the room in four quick strides. “Now get out,” he snarled as he slammed the door in her face.

Aelin stared at the wood scant inches away from her face, jaw slack in surprise, before collecting herself enough to walk away. She didn’t make it far, though, slipping into an abandoned room nearby rather than attempt to maintain her composure all the way back to her own rooms.

She hadn’t expected Rowan to be particularly interested in listening to her, she reminded herself. She had injured him mere hours beforehand, after all. Not to mention that, as he had so rudely reminded her, he was only to stay until she had mastered her own power and then they would never see each other again.

It wasn’t even as if she particularly liked him. He was domineering and stubborn, and his temper ran as hot as her own for all that he had mastered his own control over ice and wind rather than fire. But perhaps in spite of the similarities she saw in them, or perhaps because of them, she couldn’t help but feel that it might’ve been nice to talk with him just once. To understand, and to be understood in turn rather than hated.

Aelin shook her head. It was a foolish notion, for a foolish girl. She should have known better.

Despite that knowledge, though, she couldn’t help but feel as if a small part of her had curled up and died along with that foolish hope. It shouldn’t have mattered that he thought so little of her. He barely knew her, and their time as master and student was limited in scope. It shouldn’t have mattered at all.

But it did, and she couldn’t for the life of her begin to figure out why.