#light wood base bench

[beesolively]

Enclosed Living Room in Austin Example of a small, modern, enclosed living room with porcelain tile flooring, multicolored walls, a metal fireplace, and no television.

[musicofblueroses]

Mudroom - Transitional Entry Mid-sized transitional ceramic tile mudroom design with a gray floor and beige walls.

[distantdarlings]

SORE LOSER // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.6K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Gender Neutral Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* After tossing and turning for hours, you decided to take advantage of one of your Prefect privileges, which is the gorgeous Prefect’s bathroom. It seems, though, that someone else had the exact same idea.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in gn!Reader), gender neutral reader, fingering (gn!receiving), slight voyeurism, Dom!Theo, Sub!Reader, sex in bath, spanking, Theo is slightly rough, language, not fully proof-read. (Lmk if I missed any!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

ME&U - Zeke Bleu, Midnight Moon.

- - -

Between the day you had and the evening you’d failed to make relaxing for yourself, you would have assumed you’d be ready to pass out. But for some reason, you could not fall asleep.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying here, tossing and turning amongst the golden silk sheets, but you knew it had to have been a while.

The quiet breathing of your dorm mates beyond the canopy curtains, had slowly transformed into calculated, deep inhales and little snores. You knew that you were the only one left awake, and for some reason that made you feel even less confident you’d ever get to sleep, simply because of how focused you currently were on the little sounds they made.

The whole room was too quiet and the cold stone walls seemed to amplify every single breath that was taken in and bed spring that creaked. It was maddening.

You rolled to your left side and shut your eyes, the change in position was comfortable and gave you a bit of hope until the student to your right let out an echoing snort and a few nonsensical murmurs.

At that moment, you huffed and yanked your duvet back, feeling the cold air scrape along your exposed skin. You pulled the canopy curtains aside and let your feet hang over the bed. With a whispered summoning charm, your slippers whizzed to your feet. You stood and made your way to the foot of your bed.

Your shaking fingers gripped the heavy lip of your clothing trunk. The old wood creaked against its hinges as you slowly eased it open, wincing at the interrupting sound.

Hopefully, it wasn’t loud enough to wake any of your dorm mates. You plucked your soft robe off of the hook fixed to one of the bed’s posts and slipped it over your shoulders.

Quickly, you selected a change of clothes, toiletries, and a towel, before easing the trunk lid back down.

You shuffled over to the dormitory entrance and slipped through the heavy door. You supposed if anything would make you sleepy, it’d be a nice, warm bath. If that didn’t do it, you may resort to knocking yourself out.

Once outside the dorm, you readjusted everything stacked in your arms and held your breath. A second passed before your body felt as if it was sucked into a tube.

Whooshing sounds echoed all around you, and your arms struggled to keep all of your supplies clutched together. Just as it felt as though you were about to drop your things, your feet landed on solid stone ground. Your legs wobbled just slightly as you gathered your bearings, recognizing the gorgeous stained glass shimmers that belonged to the Prefect’s bathroom.

As your eyes adjusted to the change in lighting, you noticed that the grand pool had already been filled to the brim with steaming, bubbly water. With a sigh, you smiled and set your stuff down one one of the benches lining the water.

It never failed that the castle read your mind and prepared exactly what you wanted. You had previously thought that the only part of the castle that could read one’s mind was the Room of Requirement, but you soon discovered other areas of the castle could also do it.

With a deep sigh, you worked the knot of your robe loose and let the heavy material slide off your arms. It hit the floor with a muffled thump. Next, you tugged the old tee shirt over your head. The cold air swirled around your exposed breasts, coaxing your nipples up and forward.

You slipped your bottoms down your legs. Colored moonlight shone across your thighs and hands.

Just as your bottoms hit your ankles, you stepped out of your slippers and the thin fabric puddled atop them.

Even though you could wash them, the thought of your underwear touching the bare bathroom floor was too much for you to handle. You stifled a gag at the thought.

Turning, you slipped strands of hair behind your ears and walked to the edge of the pool. The tile was cold and biting beneath your feet, but the water was warm and inviting. Even from the rim, you could feel its heat radiating up.

Settling a toe into the water, you could feel the heat spread across your feet and up. Chills erupted along your whole body as the warmth combated against your cold skin.

You sank the rest of your body down the stairs, each inch submerging more of your aching muscles.

Once you settled all the way down, and sat on the edge of the tile that jutted out near your hips, you closed your eyes. The warm water ringed around your neck, soothing every bit of your body.

You couldn’t help but let a slight moan slip between your lips as your skin heated up.

You could already feel the pain and insomnia alleviating.

Your fingers wiggled aimlessly in the black emptiness, their weightlessness easing your mind. If you picked your feet up, the pool was just deep enough that you’d float.

A thought passed briefly before your eye. You gasped and opened your eyes.

For a moment, it felt as though someone might be here. The feeling creeped up your spine and niggled in the base of your skull.

You glanced around, the tips of your damp hair gliding across your neck. The light from the grand windows was just enough to cast glares across your eyes as it reflected off the water. It was near impossible for you to see anything at the opposite end of the pool clearly. It all just seemed to disappear into the dark.

Trying to ignore the feeling, you murmured a locking spell, hearing the door’s lock clunk into place. If someone had been in here, you would not have been able to just walk in. They would have locked it. Surely.

You shook those thoughts away and turned to reach for your things laid out across the bench. You selected some hair oil and body wash—the same you’d used since you were a child—and set them just at the edge of the pool.

The water splashed gently as you wet your hair and face. The only sound was the soft pattering of the water and your breathing.

As you lathered the oils into your hair, your eyes shut and you thought of the stressors that had thrown themselves at you earlier today.

Not only had you spilled your tea all over your bottoms (and were late to class because of it), you’d actually gotten something wrong in your class today. And that wasn’t even the most frustrating part of it. Everybody got things wrong in class from time to time, but no one had ever gotten a fact wrong in the middle of a debate with the only asshole in Hogwarts that had ever managed to upstage you. And to make matters even worse, it was a debate on Astrological matters, which was your best fucking class.

It was humiliating. You could still see the way that bloody Theodore Nott had smirked when he realized you’d misspoken. He knew he’d gotten you cornered, and you’d known you were screwed.

How pathetic.

You rinsed your soapy hair out, wringing the excess bubbles from the strands and watching them pool around you in the water.

“I haven’t gotten a show like this in a while—”

A scream left you as shock splattered across your body. You turned anxiously, trying to find the source of the voice, while simultaneously trying to cover your naked body.

Finally, your eyes landed on a figure in the darkness, hidden by the rays from the window.

“Who’s there?” you demanded, covering your body beneath the water.

Then he walked into the light and you recognized the very boy you were trying to ignore. Theodore Nott.

Your eyes betrayed your mind and glanced down, tracing the tight muscles that ran along his entire body. Quidditch would do that to a boy, you supposed.

“Hey, Hufflepuff,” he whispered, edging closer.

“No, Nott,” you said, holding a finger out. “You stay back… Cover your eyes and I’ll get out and leave.”

He was now standing a few feet from you. You could see the details in his unfortunately gorgeous face. A deep smirk was drawn across his lips. The light behind him illuminated him like a god. You swallowed nervously.

“What if I don’t want to cover my eyes? Or want you to leave?” he asked, cocking his head to the slide slightly.

With every word, he slid slowly closer, the soapy water trailed over his naked stomach. Even at your full height, the water consumed most of your chest. You hadn’t remembered him being this tall.

He stopped just before you, your head directed upwards just to look him in the eye. The moonlight carved into one of your eyes, painting your skin in reds and greens and blues.

One of his fingers slowly came up to trace the lines of the patterns the stained glass cast on your cheek. Then you were stepping back away from him.

“Uh, Nott, that’s not a good idea,” you shuddered, looking away from him. You pulled some of the bubbles closer to your chest to conceal yourself.

Standing naked in a relatively small body of water with your notorious academic rival wasn’t exactly the greatest idea. The thought of his hands being so close to your exposed body was making you nervous.

He was gorgeous—that much was obvious. Given the chance, you’d likely sleep with him but—

Given the chance, you’d likely sleep with him. Was this your chance? Merlin, you were pathetic.

“Why not? Call me Theo, by the way,” he said, walking back over to you.

“Erm, alright, Theo…this isn’t a good idea.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Well…,” you started. You couldn’t lie—it was hard to think of a reason why the two of you couldn’t do something, besides the whole rival thing. “Because you’re a Slytherin.”

You almost rolled your eyes at what you’d blurted out. Because you’re a Slytherin. What, were you five years old? You refrained from slapping a hand to your face.

He chuckled a bit and placed an arm to the right of your head, caging you against the wall of the pool even more. Your hands shook beneath the water.

“Because I’m a Slytherin? Isn’t that a reason to want to fuck me?”

Heat shot to your abdomen, but it wasn’t from the water surrounding the two of you.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” you laughed nervously. His other arm went beside the left side of your head. He had now completely caged you in.

You could hardly believe how he was behaving. You didn’t think he’d even noticed except when you were in the middle of one of your heated class debates.

Then, he not only noticed you, but he saw you as well. His eyes looked through you and into you. His lips formed every word so perfectly as he pushed and fought for the win, and, damn it, if it wasn’t one of the sexiest things you’d ever seen.

Those debates always had you panting and with your hands between your legs. All except for today. You’d never lost before.

You win every time, you feel the tension between his desperation to overcome you, you fuck yourself beneath your sheets. You lose, he feels the tension, he fucks you? Was that how this worked?

“Come on, Hufflepuff,” he whispered, face so close to yours. “You know you want to. I know you feel it when we debate. The way your eyes always flicker down to my lips, the way your cheeks flush. That’s not just nerves from a debate. No…” He leaned down beside your cheek, lips gently caressing your ear. “It’s lust.”

He pulled back and watched the changes in your eyes. Fear was keeping you from slamming your lips into his, but desire was urging you to take him right there. You were frozen.

The back of his index finger stroked the outside of your arm. It traced slowly up the curve of your elbow, then your bicep, then your shoulder. It stopped when he reached your collarbone.

At that point, his hand turned and pressed its palm between your clavicles. His hand was so large, the tips of his finger spanned up to the top of your throat.

The heat from his skin was ten-thousand times hotter than the water. Your eyes fluttered.

“Say you want it,” he whispered. Your eyes opened again.

Could you even say yes to this? After years of pining after him, would there even be a point? A quick fuck and then the two of you never talked again? That didn’t sound good to you.

Still, the pulsing between your thighs was almost too much to bear. Between the light cutting across your skin, the hot water, and his skin on yours, you found it impossible to even move your lips enough to form words.

Desperate for more of him, you ignored all of your doubts and nodded your head.

Without another moment, the hand on your chest cupped your jawline and pulled your lips to his.

His lips were hot and wanting—angry, almost. His tongue pried your lips open with a cruelty that was unmatched. Your shaking fingers lingered on the edge of his naked chest as he kissed you open. You wanted so badly to touch him, but—

You gasped. His hands roughly grabbed yours and pressed them flat against his chest. He must have sensed your hesitation to touch him.

He pressed your body even farther against the edge of the pool as his lips detached from yours and attached to your neck.

You’re gasping and your stomach is broiling and heat is building between your legs and everything in you feels like it’s engorging.

With a gained moment of confidence, your fingers rose to curl in his damp hair. Your fingernails scraped gently over his scalp, to which he replied with a sighing moan against your skin. His hot breath blown against you made chills erupt down your arms.

His fingertips traced down your sides, eliciting flames with their trail. You shuddered beneath his body which controlled your every move.

Once they’d reached the top of your thighs, he pulled away from your neck and placed his forehead against yours. Panting against your lips, his body smelled lightly of his toothpaste and the heat between the two of you.

“Can I?” he breathed.

“C-can you what?” you stuttered, fingers holding onto his shoulders like a vice. The water was warm around you.

“Can I fuck you?” He didn’t linger on the question. He just asked. His confidence was like a drug. His nose brushed yours as his fingers slipped toward the inside of your thigh, teasing farther and farther, until you let out a stifled whimper and nodded your head frantically.

Then he was sinking his hand between your wet thighs and grasping you within his palms. You gasped beneath the pressure of his large hand. The pure size of him covered the entirety of your core far better than yours ever could.

The amount of nights you’d spent imagining this happening with Theo was lengthy, but you’d never imagined how much bigger he truly was.

Your eyes clenched tightly at the sensation. Your lips mouthed his name silently, your fingers scraped down his back. He groaned against your lips at the sensation, the pain urging him on.

“Turn around,” he demanded. He released your sex and grasped your waist roughly.

The speed with which he turned you around and leaned you over the rim of the pool had your head spinning. The cold tile pressed against your bare chest and stomach, the shocking sensation blurring your eyes.

The edge of the pool bit into your hip bones as he raised your ass out of the water and balanced you against it.

You placed your hands down to try and rearrange yourself when Theo grabbed them and pulled them behind you. They were held tightly against your tailbone, clutched meanly in just one of his hands.

You groaned at the sensation, the tile rubbing against your sensitive nipples and core. Fuck. Between the heat of the water still covering your legs and the freezing tile, your heart was racing.

“You’d better be loud for me, baby,” Theo said, free hand tracing down the line of your ass. “Want all of the school to hear who’s fucking you so well, okay?”

One finger breached your entrance suddenly, the sudden feeling causing your body to jolt forward away from the boy behind you.

“Fuck, Theo,” you moaned.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled. “Let me hear you.”

He worked you open gently, surprisingly letting you adjust to every inch of his lengthy finger before he added a second, then a third finger.

Once he felt you were stretched enough, he hummed approvingly.

“Breathe for me, darling,” he whispered. “Gonna hurt just a little bit…”

Then he was pressing himself against your entrance as anticipation swirled in your stomach. Your cheek pressed against the cold bathroom tile.

When he pushed into you, your fists clenched so tightly, your fingernails bit sharply into your palms. You were sure blood was pooling across your fingers.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re so fucking tight. You ever been stretched like this?”

You moaned loudly as he slowly worked himself out, then pressed himself back into you. Every inch of his length was tracing every inch of your insides, claiming your body as his.

His free hand came down hard against your ass. You yelped loudly at the sensation, the sound echoing throughout the bathroom.

“Answer my fucking question,” he demanded, hand around your wrists squeezing tighter.

“No! No…never,” you moaned louder.

“All those fucking debates,” he growled, beginning to pound into you harder. “Always giving me that fucking smirk when you win. It got to the point where I wanted you to win so you would give me that smirk and turn to the rest of the class and bow. I could always get the perfect view of your ass. Merlin, I wanted to bend you over the fucking desk and show everyone what a bitch you are.”

You groaned at his filthy words.

“You may have won those fucking debates, but I’ve won this fucking body. You’re mine.”

“Theo,” you whined shamelessly, your finish building up rapidly within your lower stomach. Your shoulders were beginning to cramp from where Theo was holding you so tightly.

“Yeah, baby? That feel good?” he teased. “Always wanted to make you feel…so…good…”

Every last word was punctuated by a particularly sharp thrust.

The sloshing of the water between the two of you splashed up around your hips, coating you in its warmth. Every sensation was building and beginning to become too much.

It wasn’t long before your hands were clenching again and your hips started to shift. You were so close and Theo knew it.

“Fuck, I can feel you tightening around me,” he groaned. His voice was cracking slightly with every few words. His fucked out rasp echoed off the walls, traveling around and crashing into your ears.

The sound alone was enough to push you over the edge, but the hot stripe that he leaned down and licked along the length of your back finished you.

You came hard. Your stomach clenched as your eyes rolled upwards.

Your orgasm slipped into the water between the two of you.

The sensation of your finish clenching around Theo had his thrusts becoming more desperate and disorganized. He only lasted a few more strokes before he was cumming shamelessly inside of you.

He released your arms and laid across your back, groaning deeply as he finished himself off, pulling himself out and then pushing back in. He pumped you full of his cum a few more times until the sticky sensation was rippling overstimulation through him.

“Fuck, that was perfect,” he groaned against your wet spine. He placed an open-mouthed kiss against your flesh there, his tongue curling against you.

You moaned sleepily, only half-present as he pulled himself off of you. He helped you slide comfortably off the edge of the pool and settle your cold top half into the warm water.

You sighed comfortably and looked up at him.

“I had no idea you were such a sore loser,” you teased.

He smirked, a small chuckle coming from between his lips. He leaned across you and selected your hair oil from where it still stood on the tile, long forgotten about.

He poured a bit into his hands before turning back to your tired body. His fingers slid against your scalp, lathering the product into your dampened strands. Fuck, his fingers weren’t just good inside of you… Your eyes slipped shut as he washed your hair so gently.

His lips pressed softly against the shell of your ear. “The only one around here who’s going to be sore is you, baby.”

- - -

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[evan-collins90]

McDonald's Embarcadero Center (1975) - designed by the firm, Environmental Planning & Research

"The recently opened McDonald's in San Francisco's Embarcadero Center is a complete departure from the usual gold-arches-suburban-drive-in image usually associated with one of America's most popular chains of fast-food restaurants.

Although the design solution provides an entirely new look for the restaurant, it still meets McDonald's specified requirements of non-movable furnishings, fast turnover, flexible seating patterns and pre-established seating/circulation/equipment relationships. In addition, it stayed within the given budget and was completed at a cost of $22.00 a square foot, excluding kitchen.

A total environment was created using specially treated elm wood in a single color tone for walls, floor, ceiling and seating benches. Color accents come from green plants and burnt orange table tops.

Seating for 155 is provided by free-standing benches or wall banquettes which run continuously around the dining area forming seating clusters to accommodate from one to ten people. Tables rest on floor-attached pedestals, and the benches have fully tiled bases making floor maintenance easier. The burnt orange table tops are of a resin material which is heat resistant and easy to clean. To conceal McDonald's standard 24-inch square trash receptacles (18 in all), the designers created architectural forms which also serve as planters.

Of special interest is the ceiling and lighting treatment which is an integral part of the overall design and reflects the restaurant's seating patterns. It also provides variations in light levels; helps absorb sound; and houses heavy mechanical equipment."

Scanned from the Sept. 1975 issue of Interior Design Magazine

[sukunasteeth]

The Pleasure's All Mine - Chapter One

Based on this post from @winterrbluess

If Shibuya had a pulse, it would be at the rate of a hummingbird's wings.

The human race operates at a speed that oftentimes seems too quick to catch up with. It had been that way ever since you moved to the city for work about three years ago.

You came for a corporate job made up of ink black suits and pencil skirts, smiles that felt more on the side of uncanny valley than they did of genuine kindness, and handshakes from skin cold with carpal tunnel. You lived a corporate life. Everything is muted tones of tan and relies heavily on the concept of "modernizing". You wake up, go to work, go home, work on what you couldn't finish at the office, fall asleep on your colorless coffee table, and wake up to your alarm going off what feels like hours too soon. It was a cyclical cycle.

And the day you broke it, happened to be the day you met Sukuna.

~

You noticed the new shop on the end of the street maybe three weeks ago. It was so out of place, after all. The building was the only non-skyscraper to be seen on the block. It was a shriveled up little thing, built out of chipping brick that seemed to teeter on the edge of dilapidation from the inability to meet building codes. Overgrown ivy crawled up the sides of it and it still had plots of dirt in the front for planting as opposed to concrete and metal benches. 

When you had first seen the For Sale sign a few months ago, you were sure they were going to tear it down and pave over it- happy to be rid of the only spot of character left in the business district. Then a new sign appeared over the door, one that looked hand carved out of wood and haphazardly painted over so that you could make out the words "Carnation King".

It’s funny, flowers had never been much of an interest to you. You had seen them as just another task to take care of when you returned home after a long day. Even filling a vase with water always sounded like more effort than it was worth. But as the days blend together from monotony, you find yourself desperate for color.

You changed your walking route to work so that you can pass by the shop everyday. You knew nothing about flowers. You could barely tell a rose bud apart from a tulip, but that didn't stop you from ogling at the new bouquets and potted plants that lined the sidewalk every time you passed them. Signs made out of toothpicks and painters tape said words like “Butterfly Ranunculus” and “Brown-Eyed Susan” and learning their names became one of your favorite things to do. You never stepped foot inside, and yet the flower shop was now one of your happy places. 

You would meander by on your lunches and watch the butterflies play. You would walk by in the morning and smell freshly watered earth still hanging in the air. On your way home, when the sun was at its fullest shine, you would walk beneath the misters hung under the lip of the roof, and the coolness of the water droplets left behind on your skin saw you all the home. 

You hadn’t realized how important the flower shop was to your daily routine until the day it was interrupted. 

It happened to be one of the only days you had been forced by your workload to stay past sunset for overtime. You didn’t do it for the money, you did it because your boss had asked you nicely. But as you finally exit the office building for the night, you find yourself regretting staying so late. 

You hated walking home in the dark. Even though Japan was notorious for its low crime rates, that didn't mean it was an innocent city. After 9pm, your street was notorious for being a ghost town. The only signs of life were the few work martyrs left in their floor to ceiling window offices- acting as makeshift streetlights. There were only a few lights on the way home, and their solidarity only seemed to pronounce the darkness along the rest of the empty roadside. When you were just an intern, before you got better hours and were finally promoted to the shining 9-5 that everyone dreams about, you used to take your heels off and sprint back to your apartment. Always weary of what you couldn’t see. At the time, you didn’t know that the scariest people don’t have to hide in the dark. 

You hadn’t planned on walking past the shop that night. It was closed. It had to be. Normal flower shops closed well before 7 pm let alone 9. But the moment you touch the sidewalk outside your building, you see light glowing against the dense night. 

The shop at the end of the street was draped in tiny fairy lights. Every square inch of brick was twinkling slowly, glimmering like resting fireflies. It looked almost otherworldly in comparison to the towering pitch black shadows of corporate offices surrounding it. In fact, the effect of the glowing lights against the mirror windows made it look like the shop was hanging in space. 

Outside, the flowers you had walked past in the afternoon had been replaced with new pots, overflowing with buds you had never seen before. The usual delicate smell of Honeysuckle and Roses was now one of the sweetest scents you had ever experienced, so sweet, you could almost taste it on your tongue. Warm golden light floods out of the shop's window and the numerous white and yellow petals seem to gather and hold onto its dull shine. 

You didn’t even realize you had completely abandoned your original plan of taking the shortcut home until you were standing in front of the Carnation King with your eyes entranced on the display before you. One flower in particular had caught your eye, a huge luscious display of delicate tow-colored petals, tall with endless growth and reaching towards the moonlight as though it’s been waiting all day to see it. You can’t help but reach out to touch, and yet just before your fingertips make it, you feel coolness trickling onto your hand, breaking the spell that the lights and colors had placed on you. 

 "Evening Primrose." 

The suddenness of a voice beside you should have put you in fight or flight mode. It should have been a cold bucket of water to the face. Adrenaline spiking, you should be sprinting in the opposite direction. Instead, you found the tranquil trance that the flowers had put you in to have a lasting effect. 

You blink at the man who seemed to appear out of thin air standing next to you, and the first thing you notice are his eyes. Such a dark shade of golden rich hazel-brown, they were nearly shining like two cuts of Cat’s-Eye. They gleamed suspicion. 

He was much taller than you, but where most are lanky you can see strong muscles and broad shoulders. Collared sleeves rolled halfway up his arms revealed skin kissed rich and deep by prolonged sunshine. Tattoos slithered around his wrists and had made their way to his sculptured face, meticulously drawn black lines frame an annoyed expression. When you see the rest of him, you’re certainly not expecting to notice tufts from a head of true strawberry blond hair hang in his frigid gaze.

In one of his hands is a water can, still pouring trickling water onto your momentarily petrified fingertips, and in the other hand is a cigarette, only a third of the way lit. 

The sight of him takes you so far back, if the sound of his voice wasn’t still echoing in your head you might not have remembered that he had even said anything to you. 

"I'm sorry?" You pull your hand away from the water spray, drying it on your slacks.

The man takes half a drag of the cigarette before he answers you. Slow and unrushed. "They're called Evening Primrose.” He speaks through a cloud of tobacco smoke, glancing at the flowers that had caught your eye. His lip twitches slightly, "Need full sunlight but only bloom in moonlight. Fickle bastards." 

Okay. Owner. Mean owner. Unexpectedly rough-and-tumble looking for being the caretaker of a flower shop. You glance at his apron, but you don’t find a name tag. He takes a step back while you’re searching for it, but he only moves far enough to start watering the next plant on the table. 

You look back to the Evening Primrose, and even the smell of the burning cigarettes is nothing in the face of the scent that had pulled you in earlier. The two flavors mix like a tea garden on fire. You caress the petals once more, unthinkingly. 

"They smell incredible." You mutter, mostly to yourself. 

"Not them.” His voice is colder than his eyes. He flicks a bit of ash onto the cement behind him, and tilts his head in the direction of a different bush, one that’s even bigger than the healthy Primrose, with hundreds of tiny buds that flutter in the nighttime air. “That'd be her." 

"”Her”?" You repeat, wondering if you heard the man correctly. 

"Night Jasmine." He answers in return. 

As standoffish as he was, you still found yourself making mental notes of the names he had given you. When you look at the Night Jasmine directly, it’s clear that the wind was sweeping that delicious smell straight from the direction of its honey-hued petals. You’re not sure you had seen plants like this at even the most expensive hotels and events that you had been invited to. Maybe tiny cuttings, but nothing to this size and level of lush. 

"Well she's very pretty." You reply softly, letting out an airy laugh through your nose at his use of pronouns. The man doesn’t even crack a smile in return, his eyes giving you a pointed once over. 

“And invasive.” He adds, resting his gaze on yours once again. 

There’s a thick silence that follows after, during which you consider apologizing. For what? You were unsure, but somehow standing in his towering shadow and feeling his accusing eyes had you feeling like you were in the wrong for merely existing in his presence. 

Before you can think to just turn around, take off your heels, and sprint home like you had years ago, his voice demands your attention again. 

"So,” he says, “you gonna tell me why you’re stalking me, then?"

Now, surely, you were hearing things. 

"E-Excuse me?" 

He seems to take in your shock with some thought while he takes another languid puff, "You come by here every single day,” He lets the smoke go from his lungs, ”but you never buy a thing. In fact, you never even come in." The tone of his voice tilts towards annoyance. “You just stand at the window and pout like some sad puppy.” 

"I-I work in the building next door?" You offer, bewildered by the entire situation. Were you dreaming? Had you fallen asleep at your desk and given yourself some sort of stress-induced nightmare?

"Hmm," The man takes you in without breaking your gaze, tilting his head to the side while he takes another drag of his cigarette. "You don't seem like the pencil pusher type to me."

You’re not sure why that comment makes you defensive. In retrospect, it was even a compliment to you. You hated sitting at a desk all day, watching the sun rise and set over a stack of papers. But you had worked hard to get to the position you were in now and it wasn’t the first time a man had told you that you didn’t look like you belonged. Before you can catch yourself in the name of politeness you find yourself scoffing out, "Sorry, but you don't seem like much of a florist to me."

The silence returns. You watch as the disdainful glint to his eyes shatters, and is replaced with a split second of surprise. He blinks and it’s only then that you realize how much larger this man is in comparison to you. If you had seen him walking down the street, you’d probably think to yourself “I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side” and yet here you were, on his bad-getting-worse side from the moment your eyes met. 

Or so you had thought. But, as the antithesis of anger crosses his hardened features, and an unexpected bitten-back grin takes the place of his glower, you’re not sure what to think anymore. 

He snorts out a laugh, finally releasing you from the cold grasp of his unbreakable gaze. He takes another step back and focuses his attention on watering the flowers again. "Touche." 

The cigarette gets flicked from his fingertips and he smears it beneath his boot into a tiny canal of rocks separating the soil of the garden beds from the cement of the sidewalk. 

"So, you gonna buy something then? Or just stand there with that strange look on your face all night?" He tilts his head to mirror your stance, but the amused grin remains in place of your confused gape. “I close in five minutes.”

“I have to hand it to you, you’re a fantastic salesman.” You’ve never met a stranger more brash and uncaring, so you were giving it a shot in return. It only serves to further his easy smiles.

“Am I not offering the right thing?” Now apparently after confirming to himself that you weren’t a threat, his tone of voice seems almost playful. It only serves to further your confusion. “Hmm, a lock of my hair maybe?” 

“I am not a stalker!” 

“Then buy something.” 

You take a deep breath through your nose. Feeling the need to save face when you haven’t done anything wrong in the first place. Yet, the thought of turning away empty handed had embarrassment threatening to heat up your neck and cheeks. You didn't care if you had to drop a pretty penny, you just didn't want to boost this man's ego.

"Those." You point to the nearest flower, another pot of proud blossoms sprouting from a stem unseen past the abundant greenery of strong leaves. Soft moon colored petals unfurl at the top, and sprouting from the center are tiny, deep yellow pollen covered buds. 

The man follows your pointed finger and graces your choice with all of one second before he turns back to his watering. "Not those." He decides flatly. 

You’ve never made a more difficult purchase. "Why not?" 

"Casablanca Lilies need constant care. A white-collar like you couldn't keep up. And I don't raise 'em so people can kill 'em."

"I think I can take care of a plant, thank you." You retort, sarcasm oozing off your sentence. 

It seems you can only really catch this man’s attention when your tone has a touch of negativity, because suddenly he’s back to watching you. 

There’s a pregnant pause before his next words. He searches nothing but your eyes for a moment, as if to gauge. 

"Wanna bet?" He cocks a brow. 

And it angers you how handsome you find this annoying, pompous, self-entitled stranger. 

"Bet?” You repeat incredulously. “Are you making a sale or trying to fight?” 

Instantly, as if you were offering the two scenarios as possible options, his smile darkens and he takes a step forward instead of continuing his line of watering. 

That was all the reply you needed. You had seen the movies. The documentaries. Handsome men, provoking women, hungry eyes, it never added up to something good. So that was your que to keep walking straight past him and go home. 

“Right, I don’t need this.” You scoff. 

And yet, just before you're able to step aside him, like a true businessman, he says just the right thing to keep you there.

"So I'm right then?" 

The sound of the droplets from the watering can against the cement in place of your footsteps has you cringing in self-disappointment. You force your head to turn and meet his infuriating amusement. 

"What's the bet?" You grind out from clenched teeth. His eyes fall to your mouth, and he takes a pointed second to look at your bite before he steps away from you and back to the place where your interaction began. He reaches beside the huge Evening Primrose bush to reveal a small green potted sapling with the same leaf pattern. 

He holds it out to you and you reach out to take the little thing like you’re scared for its safety. 

"Come back in two weeks. If it's alive, I'll give you the lilies for free." The calmness in his tone of voice doesn't match the excitement glittering in his dark hazel-brown eyes. "And if it's dead, you owe me." He adds, rather nonchalantly. 

"Owe you what?" You squint your eyes at him, maybe then you could see the little horns that match his devilish little grin. 

He shrugs, almost too innocently, "A favor. Haven't thought of it yet." The stranger gives you one last once over, but this one leaves the strangest chill running down your spine. His eyes seem to follow it, as if he can see it rattling through you. "Should I? You're so confident you'll win, I didn't think I'd have to."

Now it was your turn to look him up and down, tattoos, scars and a face that seemed too comfortable with that murderous look he had first given you.

"...There's no way you're just a florist."

The comment is completely ignored as he leans forward, invading your airspace a little too close for comfort, and murmuring the words "Yes or no?" with a thick sugar coating. 

"You're on." You hope your own words convey your complete disdain for him… and not that tiny glimmer of attraction you feel prickling under your skin. 

A surprised laugh seems to escape him, as though he didn't expect you to make the deal. "You're either quite confident in yourself or a damn fool." 

Like a rabbit bearing tiny teeth in the face of a lion, you mirror him and lean in closer until there's only a small space between the two of you. "Maybe I just like showing up cocky men."

"Oh, and I'm gonna love a favor from such a mouthy brat." You're lucky he pulls away from you after he practically purrs his threat. There's another thoughtful pause before he reaches into his apron pocket and pulls out his pack of cigarettes again.

"Two weeks. I know where you work too now." He lights another, and examines the cherry after he takes the first drag, smiling like it just told him a joke. “Don’t forget.” 

[abibliophobiaa]

fluff and/or smut request based on the prompt “My God, you're fun to kiss.”

Eddie preferred but if Steve inspires you more for this that's okay too!

ily💖

eddie munson x afab!reader. 18+.

-

It starts as friends.

Acquaintances, really. People who pass each other in the hall. Glances as you go, simple pleasantries, a wave if you’re lucky.

But fate steps in. And soon it’s a joint project, it’s trying to care for an egg together, to make sure it doesn’t break, gentleness foreign to both of you. It’s handing off your pretend child at the end of an afternoon—it’s joint custody over an eventual grade.

Soon, it’s gentle brushes of flesh in science class. It’s an accidental touch after almost dropping a pipette, a borrowed pencil, a shared eraser. Awkward encounters become heated glances. They become chemical interactions like the science projects you share with Eddie Munson.

Bright, vibrant, and potent.

You think it’s a joke when you’re paired in English class. Some sort of cosmic arrangement in the stars, a joke from the gods, what have you. Because of all the people you could act out Romeo and Juliet with, Eddie Munson is the last one on your list.

He’s brash and unruly. He’s disorganized and frenetic. He’s…well, he’s charismatic and alluring. Infuriating and compelling. Intriguing and impossible. Handsome and absolutely grotesque. Charming and…

Well. That’s the problem, really. The more the stars align, the more you find you like him. The more you find yourself enraptured by the boy with curly hair and a dimpled smile.

So it’s almost no surprise when you find yourself seated on a bench in the middle of spring, surrounded by dappled light and looming trees, books stretched out in front of you, practicing your lines. Only Eddie’s distracted. Has been for a bit. Since you arrived, really.

“Is there something on my face?” Your words are short. Staccato. Clipped. Brusque, without a real reason for them being so.

“Er—no.”

And that’s that. These weeks, these opportune moments—they mean nothing. Fleeting gazes, jovial banter, and brief looks? Those don’t make up a relationship. You know this. Yet it stings all the same. Sinks deep in your gut.

Or so you think.

The next time you meet in the woods, Eddie’s a live wire. Fingers tapping a pen on his notebook, brushing your cheek, curling around your jaw. He’s staring at you fondly. Like you’re the only girl in the world; like you’re his. And you would be—if he’d only asked you.

It’s on that day, as the sun sets and the sky glows orange, he leans down and kisses you the first time.

A gentle brush of his lips over yours as you sit on top of that wooden table. His knees press to the bench, your backside on the tabletop, his ringed fingers around your hips.

He kisses you like you’re precious—a jewel to be cherished, bright and twinkly, rare and his. And you find you like that; languish in it.

You get a B+ in O’Donnell’s class and the woods become your haven that next week. A place where you can run to him, your fingers in his hair, his arms around your waist. Whispers of hate and love, of frustration and adoration, of ‘will they’ and ‘won’t they.’

There’s a shlick of a zipper lowering. A hiss from the boy before you as you tug him forward by his belt loops, nosing along his throat, sucking purple hickeys into supple flesh.

He’s plush lips over your breast, whispers of, “My god, you’re fun to kiss.”

And you’re pliant. Heart a flutter as he slides your skirt up your thighs, parting you for him, brushing at your slit. He teases at your flesh. One finger, swirling in your slick, mouth swallowing your pitiful moans. And then another, sliding into you. Making you whimper and moan, gasps muffled against the column of his throat.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks, brushing his mouth over your ear.

Smirks into your skin when you tremble, thighs spreading wider, welcoming the boy as he prods at your center, groans when you whimper into his chest at the brush of his fullness against your hole.

“Y-yeah, Eds.”

“What do you want, baby? Need your words.”

Another brush. A nudge. A slight pressure where you want him most, but it has your toes curling, fingers tightening around his leather jacket, gripping fast to curls, teeth clenching around his earlobe.

“Need you to fuck me,” you manage.

“Yeah, baby?” He’s smirking. Dimples and cockiness, fingers curling around his base, pressing his head against your center. Collecting your slick and pushing in slightly. Enough to have you quivering, enough to have you begging for more. “Like this?”

And he’s sliding in. Inch by blessed inch, slowly and painstakingly so, until you’re a gasping, writhing, pleading mess. Tears prick your eyes, fingers in his hair, mouth against his.

“You like me,” he rasps.

Not a question.

Not at all.

A statement. Simple, just like breathing. Just like the way he slides in and out of you—like he’s always done so, like it’s what he’s always been made to, like he’s been doing so all along. 

“I do,” you gasp out, shuddering around him, curling your thighs around him, dragging him closer. You need him closer. “I like you, Eddie Munson.”

“Go out with me.” A brush of his lips over your heart, hips rolling against yours, drawing out your pleasure.

You hate him, you like him, you might even love him.

“I will,” you whimper, pulling him tighter, burning brighter. “I will.”

And it’s one week later you walk down the halls hand in hand with Eddie Munson. Your health partner, lab partner, english partner. Stranger, acquaintance, friend.

Boyfriend.

Yours.

-

-

[swamp-chicken]

wild life ep. 2 ficlet - ethubs, 648 words

There’s a fragile pink flower sitting in Etho’s base. It’s wilting a little in the sun, its leaves starting to brown and curl at the edges.

Bdubs can’t help but admire it as he plans out his tower and builds up his walls. There isn’t much else in the way of inspiration around here. The island’s a construction zone, a mess of cobble foundations and building outlines, jagged walls and chests spilling over with useful junk.

It’s a pretty flower, even though it’s wilting. Gem has even potted it— a stupid luxury this early in the game. And she has given it to Etho, so sweet and so kind, and called Etho family, and Bdubs, overhearing, has swallowed down the sting and convinced himself that it doesn’t hurt at all. Because family is stupid luxury, too.

“It’s poison,” Bdubs cautions after Gem bounces away. Etho ignores him, picking up the pot and cradling it in his hand. His smile lights up his entire face.

“Don’t eat it!” Bdubs snaps, but Etho just shakes his head, still grinning like an idiot.

Etho turns the flower so he can admire it from all angles. “I’m gonna save it!” His voice is warm. “It’s my precious gift from Gem.”

Bdubs scoffs and turns back to his work. “Sure. Save it.”

Bdubs has tried to save things before. He protected them in walls of stone and snow, held them close, squeezed too tight. He played the game all wrong, wore his loyalty like a noose. It drew tighter and tighter until it strangled him— until he was knocked to the ground with the taste of iron spreading across his tongue. The snow blanketed him until he was completely erased.

Etho places the flower down in his base. “Nobody’s gonna touch it, okay?” There’s laughter in his voice, the creep of irony. “No one touch my beautiful flower from Gem!”

Bdubs can’t help but laugh along. “You know how this goes, don’t you?”

Etho smiles up at him. “I do.” Bdubs is almost taken aback by the brilliance, by Etho standing there in his tower foundations, eyes shining, the copper gleaming in the sun.

Bdubs has to work to speak around the sudden tightness in his throat. “If you put value on anything, it’s over.”

Etho shrugs and falls silent. Bdubs thinks he understands why Etho did what he did, all those years ago.

Night falls. In the glow of torchlight, Bdubs is building his tower block by block.

Etho’s tower has grown next to his, but his doorway is still unfinished. Light spills out of the tower and pours onto the grass. On the next trip to refill his inventory, Bdubs can’t help but glance inside.

It’s homey. Etho has laid down wood floors, a crafting bench, some chests. Etho himself is in there, too. His back is to the doorway and he doesn’t notice Bdubs’ approach. He must be busy with something. Bdubs can hear him humming the way he does when he’s concentrating, quiet and off-key.

Etho steps back and now Bdubs can see the water bucket in his hand, the task that Etho was so diligently working on. The pink flower: no longer wilting, but standing tall.

“Bdubs!” Etho exclaims, and Bdubs flinches. “How long have you been there?”

Bdubs shifts his weight. “Just checkin’ up on you.”

“And?” Etho asks.

“Copper tower, check. Golden ratio, uh… I gotta count.”

Etho snorts. “You’re pretty nosy for a guy who said we were all gonna mind our own business this season.”

“Yeah, well…” Bdubs doesn’t have a retort. “The flower looks nice.”

“Mm,” Etho agrees. His gaze sharpens. “Don’t get any ideas!”

“No, I—“ Bdubs is choking. “I’d never.”

“Never?”

Bdubs is uncomfortable with the skepticism in Etho’s voice, uncomfortable with the wave of emotion cresting through his body.

“Goodnight, then,” Bdubs says. And he quietly returns to his work.

[brokenpieces-72]

Home for Holidays

Monster! 141 (mostly Soap) x Hybrid female Reader (jackalope/wendigo)

This is a continuation of the previous fanfic on my page. The only context you need it that the reader is teenager. Mentions @diejager reader character Hunter and is based on designs by @bluegiragi

CW/TW: Mentions of trauma, abuse, family trauma, punishment, origins of wendigo, crying, angst, let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Soon enough Holidays come around and there are no signs of your handler returning to base. Which means you’ll likely be alone on base on the holidays. It’s not the first time so that’s okay but you do get jealous when plans are brought up in conversation.

“So what’ll you be doin lass?” Johnny asks. His friendly face becomes a small frown when you shrug.

“Maybe I’ll just stay on base with Ghost…not sure what else there is. Nowhere to go really…” You say shrugging. Johnny’s brother side comes out in full swing, not just for you but for Simon as well. He knows Simon uses the holidays for his own needs, and doesn’t really stay on base the whole time. Leaving you behind didn’t feel fair to him. Not only that but it’s not fair to you, to have to sit in your room by yourself bored out of your mind.

Johnny makes some calls after that and soon learns there’ll be some paperwork but he doesn’t care. It’ll be worth it.

Nikolai comes to pick people up to take home, and Johnny has you already packed and it basically bouncing on your bed to get you to wake up.

“Come on wheels up lass!”

He’s carrying the duffel you had when you came and hands it to you.

“But-“ you’re half awake as you try to protest.

“No questions. Come on.” He says and you both get on the helicopter. Rudy and Alejandro say good bye to you before you leave and give you a gift to open on Christmas as does Gaz and Price. Ghost sees you off and you tell him you hope he enjoys the privacy.

Johnny takes you to his hometown, and when you land he explains that he made some calls home. And then to Laswell, and the program and few others to make sure everything was sorted.

“Ma didn wantya to be alone. Just know you’ll be put to work still…got dat?” You nod and he takes you to his house after you land, where you meet Soap’s mother and Soap’s older brother. His mother comments a bit on your appearance saying you look a little pale and could afford to put on a couple pounds. Soap gives her a look but you shake it off saying you have been. She gives you a warm smile and helps you find your room.

You have a good time on your leave and it feels a little odd to you. Your family was way different, but Johnny’s is cozy and kind and teasing. You join in on jabs at him, and help around the house as best you can, learning more basic skills like cooking and chopping wood. Johnny takes you to a few different places around, along with his brother, and you even meet a couple of his football buddies. They’re friendly and tell you some stories about Johnny. They ask about the ears and antlers. Johnny lets you answer how you choose, whether it’s as a jackalope or a wendigo. At some point he leaves you with his friends to take care of something and when he comes back, he sees you talking and having a good conversation with them. It’s hard to imagine you were once this simple, shy, apologetic kid and now you had grown into a friendly, healthy teenager.

One night you and Johnny take a minute to relax on a bench before continuing your walk home. The two of you had just left his friend and their partner at a store, and the walk home would be long. Johnny could handle walking in the dark but wanted you to be safe too. You both look out at the street lit up by garlands of lights and shop windows. It was good to finally take a break after all the walking around. You watch people go by and notice body language you didn’t often see on base. Couples holding hands, kids running and skipping, snowballs being thrown, parents swinging their kids. You lean against your knees, following Johnny’s sitting position.

“Are all families like this?” You ask. Johnny notices where you had been looking and shrugs.

“Nah all of em. The good ones are.” Johnny ponders for a moment before inquiring. “Take it you didn ave that.”

You shake your head.

“Wha were they like?” He asks. You go very quiet, and he pays closer attention. It’s not an easy subject, your parents were mean and obsessive over your hybrid features. You were outcasted and isolated. Christmas was a rough time, as you would see people happy outside but never felt the same way.

“…they…they used to yell at me. Sometimes hit me.” You confessed. Johnny looks at you. “It kept escalating… sometimes it was burns or no food for a day. Then one day they grounded me and put me in the basement.” You pause for a shaky breath feeling your throat tighten up. Johnny lets you continue at your own pace. “They gave me raw meat and told me there was nothing else…”

You’re shaking recalling the horrid memory of how you became a wendigo. Your family wasn’t normal and your parents weren’t sane. You only found out how insane they were when it was too late. How cultish they could be.

Johnny doesn’t need you to finish, and instead moves closer to you on the bench and holds you tight. The tears just come down and you nestle into his winter jacket. You feel a gloved hand on your head keeping you close.

“You didn do anythin wrong.” He tells you over and over, tucking your head under his chin. “You’re a good kid. Don’ forgae ‘at.”

You finally pull away after a while and he asks if you’re ready to keep going. You nod, he gives you his arm to cling to while you head home. There are still tears but your face is stinging from the cold, and you’d rather be inside. Johnny tries to change the subject or make some jokes with you. He gets a couple giggles for his dad jokes. When you finally get back, Johnny’s mother notices your tears and gets you some water. She doesn’t ask about it and lets her son handle everything while you curl up on the couch with him watching Die Hard.

You feel more and more comfortable snuggling up to Soap, and he you. He’s taken to calling you ‘pup’ and ‘whelp’. When you walk in to relax with him he offers to shift for you so you can have a soft pillow to rest against. It doesn’t take long before his brother and mother are friendly with you too, spending some alone time with them as well. His mother has taken a shine to you, often asking for some help in the kitchen or showing you cute videos she found online. There’s a couple of Facebook posts usually involving the Grinch or Peanuts cartoons that you find cute, and smile at.

His mom expresses concern multiple times about your wardrobe, noticing you wear the same items in a row.

“If ya wouldna mind me askin dear, didn ya wear that shirt yesterday?”

“Y-yes. Is that bad?” You ask.

“No no of curse not, it’s a nice shirt, but doncha ave other clothes?” She asks. When you shake your head she sets down whatever she is working on. It doesn’t take long for her to check if any of her sons’ old clothes will fit you. The clothes are a little baggy on you, even with the couple extra pounds you’ve gained while staying there but they’ll work. Especially since they’ll likely get torn anyways when you back to base. Honestly his mother is glad they’ll be put to use, and they’re some of the few clothes she has that are intact since Johnny’s form often rips his clothing.

Christmas Eve comes around and Soap is up early for his workout and his mother is up for her meal prep.

“Aye ma? Canna ask you somethin?” Soap asks quietly, not wanting to wake you or give you the chance to hear him.

“Yes?”

“Whatcha think of the lass?”

She takes a moment to think about it.

“Lovely child. Takes after ya a bit moore than I’d like.” She teases. Johnny smiles before unloading a bit on to his mother. “They don’t ave anywhere else to go after this, unless Price keeps em. So it got me thinkin uhh…” his tail twitches awkwardly as she takes note of his tone. His mom has seen how her sons’ tails react when they get a certain way. Before he can ask she answers the question.

“I think ya need to think this over some more. I wouldna mind it… but she’s got as much of a say as you do. Honestly she’s a lovely lass, and I know you’ve taken a shine to her. More than a shine, yer practically her brother. You’ve told me what she is, and I have no qualms but ya better be here for her too. I’m not dealin’ with a hybrid under my roof, alone and at my age.”

“I will ma, thank you.” Johnny decides to bring it up later when you guys head back to base.

Christmas comes and it’s overwhelming for someone unused to large close gatherings. Johnny and his brother make it a habit for at least one of them to stay close to you. Their relatives ask tou questions and get to know you. You don’t unload like you did with Johnny, but when your past comes up you do respond.

“Well my adoptive parents were pretty bad, so after that my social worker put me in the program for rehabilitation and relocation I guess.”

When you get the chance you slip away to take a breath, and relax a bit. The whole situation is crazy after being on a such an isolated family. The holidays weren’t exactly great for you, and sometimes you were alone to open gifts by yourself. The gifts were strange too, often in the form of weird books and strange toys. Looking back, to any normal person the gifts should have been red flags. Johnny finds you soon enough, and asks if you just want some time to yourself.

“This is normal? Spending holidays like this?” You ask. He nods.

“Never got ‘at back ‘ome.”

You shake your head. Johnny isn’t one to show vulnerability but damn you make it hard.

“Fairly normal. You open your gifts yet?” He asks. “Come on we’re about to start opening them.”

You get up and follow him, carrying the gifts you got from the 141 into the living room, and sit down. Anyone seeing the scene would know you were out of place, as everyone was either human or a werewolf. Johnny’s mom sits by you, and has a gift for you too. You open it and you laugh, finding a hoodie for Johnny’s favourite football team. Johnny looks over and basically cheers seeing the hoodie. The gifts from the team are a journal and some stationary and a sketchbook. They’re simple gifts sure but they’re better than anything you had gotten before. They were yours.

Next couple days you spend collecting and drawing around the area. You take the journal everywhere, writing about the things you see and draw your own ideas.

During a visit to a restaurant you notice some humans and draw them as hybrids, giving them tails and wings. Any common or ugly looks from other humans go ignored as you focus on the pencils and paper before you.

Your journal gets filled with cards, photos, stickers, scribbles and a couple of miscellaneous items you find like leaves, flowers and feathers. It’s not long before items are poking out from between the pages marking your progress. You write plenty of thoughts, and even a couple stories about the items you find.

[maimingaffairs]

Hi, I just stumbled upon your blog and immediately fell in love with your writing (that darkling fic), so I don't know if you write for Nikolai, but I think that man is a man written by Taylor Swift, so if you could, could you write a fic based on a song “I think he knows” like maybe they're friends but Nikolai has a crush on her and Nikolai is always smug about it and shamelessly flirts with her because he loves getting her all flustered but she just shrugs him off because she believes that Nikolai is always flirty with everyone but Nikolai proved her wrong and just continued on flirting with her until one day she confessed that she also has a crush on him? I don't know if that made sense.

this is my first time writing for Nikolai, admittedly, so I apologise if it isn't the most magical thing you've ever read. I did try though! but ill stand by when I said the entire grishverse was ghostwritten by Taylor swift. there is no questions. PERIOD. btw I love u, anon <333

warnings: none

word count: 2k

I Want You, Bless my Soul

(nikolai lantsov x fem!reader)

-

“One of these days I am going to charm you into a kiss, and then you won’t be able to resist me.”

You scoffed and looked up at your best friend while he stood over the desk you sat at, sketching a bit in your notebook, “A kiss? I bet you offer kisses to all the girls you know.” You countered and glanced back down at your work. 

Nikolai simply shrugged and sat down on the other side of his desk and he crossed his arms over his chest, “Well, there aren’t many girls around here to talk to.” He argued back playfully and reached across the desk to give your nose a little tap. 

“You’re insufferable!” You gasped playfully and then you shook your head, “you should be ashamed, making all the girls around you feel so pretty and special.”

“Does that mean I make you feel pretty and special?” He asked excitedly and you simply shook your head. 

“No, because I know better, Lantsov.”

“Ah. Well. One of these days. You’ll see.” He promised and you rolled your eyes in return. 

-

You stood up on the deck of Nikolai’s ship and drummed your fingers against the hard wood rails while you watched some of the Grisha on the ship work to keep it sailing smoothly. You’d been friends with the blonde prince as long as you could remember, and when he skipped off to do his own business and sail, he’d eagerly invited you to join him. 

Meaning, you were the only person aboard the ship to know he was the Lantsov prince, a secret of which you kept at the utmost importance. You loved the boy with all of your heart- a little bit too deeply- in fact, you were one hundred percent sure that you were in love with your best friend. But the only issue was, he was a natural flirt. It seemed like every girl he spoke to, every time he opened his mouth, every word he said, had someone swooning or falling to their knees. You had accepted a long time ago that you had no shot with the prince and you had made your peace with it. 

That didn’t make it any easier when he came around just to bother you, though. 

Like right now. 

You sat down on a little bench on the deck of the ship and peered out at the water around you, and Nikolai mirthfully approached you and reached out to hand you something. You looked down into his strong hand and saw a little pearl resting in the palm of his hand.

“Look. I found it in one of the oysters we caught.” He said proudly and you gently took the shimmering pearl out of his hand and held it up to the light.

“It’s pretty. What are you gonna do with it?” You asked and placed it back in his hand. 

“Well, I was going to give it to you. Because it’s so lovely, it just reminded me of you. Plus, it sparkles like your eyes or something like that. Was that a romantic enough thing to say?” He asked and winked down at you. 

You scoffed, as you often did in his presence, and took the pearl from him again, “Oh, please. It was just about as cheesy as it gets, you brat.” You replied and he hummed. 

“Well then why are you blushing?” He asked and pointed down at you, wiggling his finger near your face. 

You gaped up at him and you brought your hand up to your face to feel your cheeks which were indeed, quite warm and you scowled at him, “I am not blushing!” You protested, which caught the attention of Tamar nearby. 

She glanced in your direction and then up at the blonde boy in front of you and she grinned, “Oh yeah. You’re blushing. Hard.” She commented and Nikolai pumped his fist in victory. You stood up from the bench and tucked the pearl away in your pocket before you shook your head and stomped off below deck. 

-

The next time the Prince flustered you had to be in front of the Sun Summoner herself, and you couldn’t remember a time where you’d been more lost for words. You stood in his office while he went over some maps with Alina and her friend Mal, who stood awkwardly to the side. You took a guess and figured he did that a lot. Standing off to the side. You were perched on the corner of Nikolai’s desk and you tapped a spot on the map. 

“We gotta be careful here. Big rocks, remember?” You pointed out and he wasted no time in making you a mess. 

He reached down and grabbed your hand off of the map and raised it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles politely, “Ah yes. Big rocks. Not much bigger than the one I’ll put on your finger one day, though.” 

You stared up at him and your jaw almost dropped. He still held your hand in his and you wanted to yank it away and go hide, but half of you wouldn’t allow you to even budge. You let out a breathy, nervous laugh and you shook your head, “Time and place.” You mumbled under your breath and looked away from him but he simply tightened his grip on your hand and grinned. 

“We’d make beautiful children too, Alina, don’t you think? Her bone structure and her eyes and my hair and smile?”

The Sun Saint stood there and let out an awkward laugh before she looked to Mal and he cleared his throat, mentioning something or other about the sea whip. You tugged your hand away from Nikolai and looked down at your lap for a long time before you slid off of the desk and you put your hands into your pockets. 

“I’m going to head to bed I think. It’s been a very long day.” You squeaked and then without another word, you dashed out of his office and went to stand at your favorite spot at the back of the ship. 

You let the brisk night’s air cool your cheeks and you let out a long, frustrated sigh. You hardly thought it was fair that he kept flirting with you, especially when it was just so casual and asinine.  No one was on deck at this time of night and you took advantage of that and leaned over the side of the boat to feel the sea spray against your cheeks. You wanted to slap the smug little smile off of Nikolai’s face every time he made you feel so… giddy. You wanted to scream at him and tell him that it wasn’t fair that he unleashed butterflies in your stomach every time he opened up his beautiful mouth. But most of all, you wanted to smack him in the middle of the chest and tell him just how in love with him you were and just how unfair it was that he teased you relentlessly for it. 

That was why he did it, right?

You wondered for a moment and then finally shook your head. There was no other explanation. You’d known the boy since you were both just children and he’d always been a shameless little flirt with everyone, especially in his teenage years. It made sense that perhaps this was how he interacted. This was just his personality, everybody knew so… right?

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned around with your hands raised, only to feel waves of relief when you saw it was only Nikolai. 

“You scared me.” You commented with a sigh and the boy shrugged and then he let out a laugh, a beautiful sound that brought a smile to your lips. 

“Yeah I can tell. You look very menacing with your hands up like that. I almost feared for my life.” He teased and you rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him back before you turned back to the water, silence settling over the two of you. 

“So,” Nikolai began and leaned up against the rails next to you, “Is this the part where we kiss? In front of the ocean, under the light of the moon?” He singsonged and sidled up closer to you. 

You turned and looked at him with a frown, “You have to stop that.” You said quietly and then bit down on your bottom lip. 

“Stop what?” He asked cluelessly.

You studied his face and then you shook your head, “Nikolai, I mean you need to stop messing with me like this. I’m not just every girl. They all swoon for you and they all giggle and blush when you talk to them but for me it’s just… so much more complex.”

He raised his eyebrow curiously as if he didn’t understand what you meant and you let out a long sigh and rubbed your face, already blushing, “Nikolai, I am in love with you. I have been for years, and I probably will be for a long time. And when you sit and flirt with me like this… make me feel special, make me feel so giddy, it makes it even harder for me because that’s how you talk to every girl!” You said, hiding your face in your hands. 

There was a long pause in which you could only hear the ocean around you along with the wind, when suddenly the boy next to you let out a loud, amused laugh. Your face turned even redder and you went to walk away before he grabbed onto your arm and he pulled you back to him and grinned down at you.

“Oh, y/n. My sweet, sweet girl. Do you ever hear me say these things to other girls? Really.” He asked and you blinked up at him. 

You knew he had a charming demeanor, but come to think of it, he’d never made comments like the ones he made to you to every other girl he ever met. You stared up at him blankly and he laughed again, a beautiful sound that made you want to melt into his arms entirely. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” He replied and then he let out a soft sigh, “I don’t mess about with other girls, I don’t tease them relentlessly like I do you. And it’s all for good reason. You’re simply the only girl I have my sights on, and saints are you a slippery little worm. I think I’ve finally got you and then you’re running off and hiding.” 

Shock was evident on your face, this much you were sure of, and you shook your head once, “You have got to be kidding me.” Was all you could manage and Nikolai laughed again and he reached down to cup your cheeks. 

“My pretty y/n. I’d never joke about such things.” He said, leaning closer to your face. 

“Oh for the love of the saints, Nikolai.” You groaned and stood up on your toes to finally greet his lips with your own. 

The kiss was met with much eagerness from the Prince and he only pulled you closer to him as he kissed you back with a sweetness unlike anything you’d ever felt. Butterflies fluttered around your stomach and when he finally pulled back, his grin was highlighted by the moon as he stared down at you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world to him. 

“I do believe I told you that one day I’d charm you into a kiss.” He pointed out smugly and you grabbed the collar of his shirt and shook your head. 

“I think I’m the one that charmed you.” You remarked and pulled him down to where your noses brushed. 

“More than you’ll ever know.” He replied softly before he brought another heavenly kiss to your lips.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to razziecat for sending this fascinating 1827 home in Buffalo, NY. It doesn't look like a mansion from outside, does it? But, the large 8bd, 6ba home has a surprise. It's priced at $899,900, which is less than it's worth (Zillow says, $982,300). You have to see inside.

Would you expect this entrance hall, from looking at the outside? Look at the size of it. Pocket doors, wainscoting, and I don't think I've ever seen a taller newel post.

The carving and stone on this fireplace, plus a built-in bench are beautiful. The floors looks original, or at least older.

The architectural details are so extra. You don't usually see intricate carvings over the doorways and notice the beautiful ceiling.

Pretty rosy beige sitting room with an original light fixture.

On one side, folding doors open to this room. Now, this can be a larger dining room like they have it, a ballroom, or even a sun room.

Then, on the other side of the sitting room, the pocket doors open to the regular dining room. Lovely, but I'm wondering if this is supposed to be the 2nd reception room.

I say that b/c of the built-in cabinet in this room. Plus, it has the high wainscoting that dining rooms have and a fabulous ceiling. Look at the details on the wainscoting.

This kitchen. Wow, is all I can say. It's amazing.

It's huge and they did a great job of saving everything. Can you imagine eating by the fireplace in your kitchen? What luxury.

And, look at the pantry. Isn't this gorgeous?

Small office with glass-enclosed shelving on both side.

Wainscoting and linen closets in the hall. There's wood everywhere in this house.

Nicely redone powder room. Interesting sink base.

I'm not into their bedroom furniture. It's too big for the room.

I think that this could be a primary bedroom b/c of the fireplace, alcove and closets.

Attractive tile and matching wallpaper & sink.

Here's a large bedroom.

And, I like the combination of old and new in the bath.

I think that this is a 3rd level. It has a guest suite with a fireplace and wonderful lighted shelving. This could probably be used as a rental, as well.

It has a sweet little kitchen.

In the basement, there's a cool antique safe.

And, a wine cellar. Look at the holes- they accommodate different sizes of bottles.

I did not, however, expect this. Look at this gigantic indoor pool.

Plus a sauna.

And, a nice bathroom, too, with a shell sink.

Long patio on the side of the house.

The property is 1.40 Acres.

There's mad parking and a big 3 car garage that looks long enough for 9 cars in tandem rows.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/280-Pine-Ridge-Rd-Buffalo-NY-14225/30291555_zpid/

[case-almost-closed]

Hi. How are you ? Glad that you write for DC. not many people do 🥰❤. Can i request for Furuya? Feel free to ignore if you dont like it. But yeah. So there is this girl who is being verbally assulted/catcalled, and the guy is just being a creepy stalker literally following her (nothing serious, just wants to hook up and her number or social media), so she decided to ask for help from the first person she can find, who was Furuya walking with Conan . And she was like (can you pretend to be my husband boyfriend?). Im sure a person like him would understand the situation based on her body language alone even before she explains it, and im sure if he scans his surrounding he will even find the creepy person within secs. So yeah, Furuya being the gentleman he is, will take matters into his hands ❤🖤.

Guardian Angel

Furuya Rei x fem!Reader Words: 1.8K A/N: Thank you so much for that request, lovely idea, really. Sorry that it took a bit longer, but I was busy. It's not as good as I hoped it would be, but I still hope that it's okay.

She knew she should have listened to her friends and taken the opportunity to return with them. However, she had had so much work to do that she simply hadn't been able to afford to go home earlier, but as she walked home in the dark, the path lit only by the lanterns and billboards, she wished she had listened to them.

Although she tried to take the roads where there was a lot going on and a lot of light, it became more and more complicated as she left the heart of the city for the more secluded, quieter areas she had to cross to get home. However, it hadn't been her biggest mistake to walk home so late, but to decide that nothing bad would happen if she took the shortcut through the park.

"Come on sweetie." The man's voice behind her sounded muffled and raspy, sending an unpleasant shiver down her spine.

Of course, it must have been her luck to run into the only person who was in the park at the time, and of course he had to be the creepiest guy who could have been.

"I just want your number!" She walked on without looking back, hoping he would just stay on that bench and drink himself into a stupor. However, when she heard rustling followed by footsteps behind her, a shiver ran down her spine again and she instinctively quickened her steps, clutching her bag tightly. The footsteps behind her didn't pick up speed, but they were still too close for her liking.

"Sweetie, come on now." His words came out slurred and the thought alone made her feel nauseous. "Please...please leave me alone." Her voice was quiet and didn't sound as firm and sure as she would have liked, so she took another step faster, which elicited a laugh from the man behind her. "Don't be like that, I just want your number, nothing more!" By now she had left the park and was back on a street. Her eyes darted back and forth without moving her head much so as not to attract any more attention from him, hoping to find someone who could help her, but the streets were deserted. So she had no choice but to keep walking and hope that her pursuer would just give up at some point. Which, of course, he didn't.

She briefly toyed with the idea of turning back in the hope of getting rid of him, especially as she didn't feel comfortable with the idea of showing him where she lived, but decided against it. It probably wouldn't do her any good as she was already so far away from the busy part of town.

However, she noticed that her pursuer seemed to have slowed down a little, probably due to the alcohol disrupting his coordination, and picked up the pace again, turning the corner sharply only to almost collide with someone. She stumbled and caught herself in time on the fence of a front garden, the wood digging uncomfortably into her hand and her face contorted in pain. " My sincerest apologies, are you all right?“

Her head shot up and she saw a man and a small child in front of her, the former crouched down to be at eye level with her, looking at her with equal concern. In a matter of seconds, she took in their appearances.

The child was young, perhaps six or seven years old, had typical dark hair and wore glasses that covered half his face. The man, on the other hand, appeared to be tall, athletic and, to her fascination, had blonde hair that seemed to be natural and fell into his tanned face. He gently grabbed her elbow and helped her up, looking at her with concern. "I'm really sorry, I really should have been more careful..." She wasn't normally the kind of person to interrupt others, but she felt it was appropriate at this moment.

"Help." Her voice was no more than a whisper, a breath, and she would be surprised if he heard her, but he seemed to do just that. He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head, which might have been cute in other circumstances, but her heart was pounding in her throat. "Excuse me, but is everything all right?"

She shook her head, which deepened the worry line on his face, and started to speak again when she heard the shuffling footsteps behind her. Her body stiffened instantly, which was noticed by the man, whose gaze shot upwards only for his expression to darken. "There you are, sweetheart..." slurred the man, whose speech was now riddled with hiccups.

She shivered slightly and turned her head so that he could hear her. "I've already said I don't want anything to do with you." "Oh come on, don't be like that. It's just your number I want. For now." With that, he laughed and stepped towards her, reaching out for her arm. Her reflexes weren't quick enough and she just managed to tear her eyes open, prepared to be grabbed by the arm, but the blond man she had bumped into seemed to have other plans. He quickly pushed himself between her and the man, gripping his wrist tightly. "And what exactly is this supposed to be?“

Her harasser stared at the blond, as if only now realising that he existed. "What do you want, you scumbag?" he blurted out, spittle spraying through the air, but she tensed up when she saw him raise his hand. The little boy next to her, however, only took her hand reassuringly and smiled knowingly. "Don't worry. Amuro-san knows what he's doing." And the little boy was right. The blond, Amuro, blocked the blow with ease, twisted the man's arm behind his back, causing him to let out a painful groan, and pressed him against the nearest wall. "I should be asking you that." Amuro's lips were set in a knowing yet grim smile, giving her goosebumps as he leant forward and pulled his arm up a little further, eliciting another groan of pain from the man. "What kind of scum do you have to be to chase after young women in the dark and molest them?“

"I only asked her for her number, not sexually harassed her!" The man's face was contorted in pain. "Besides, it's none of your business!!!" She winced at his shout and the boy pulled her back slightly so that she had enough distance between herself and the man. "It's enough to make you guilty of molestation," Amuro hissed. He glanced at her for a moment and an idea seemed to occur to him as, unbeknownst to the man, a small smile played around the corners of his mouth. "It would concern me if she were even a stranger. However, it's my business especially because she's my girlfriend. So?" As the heat shot into her face, the man blanched and began to stammer out pathetic apologies.

She could see that Amuro was far from satisfied, but he seemed to realise how uncomfortable she was, so he snorted, grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the road. He stumbled and landed almost face first on the tarmac, but managed to catch himself. He took one last look at them before he took to his heels and fled. Amuro looked after him, shaking his head in disgust, before turning back to her, his expression instantly softening.

Before she was able to thank him, he smiled shyly and scratched the back of his neck. "I apologise if I went too far in calling you my girlfriend. It's just been my experience that most people are more easily put off by that sort of thing, at least in the peaceful way." She shook her head hastily, her face warm with embarrassment, and bowed to the man. "No, no, not at all. I really am incredibly grateful to you for helping me. It wasn't a matter of course." He shook his head slightly. "Which is a shame, because it should be." He eyed her intently and a shiver ran down her spine under his gaze. "Are you all right?“

Only now did she notice the slight throbbing pain in her hand and when she looked down, she realised that a splinter of wood was stuck in her palm. "Just a small splinter, nothing more. You made sure of that." Instead of reassuring him, however, her comment seemed to have sparked renewed concern in him, as he took her hand in his and inspected it without thinking about it.

"It looks big," he murmured, gently stroking the skin around it, making her feel cold and hot at the same time. "You should pull it out carefully at home and disinfect it, otherwise it could get infected. It's not a big wound, but we don't want to take any risks."

He looked up mischievously and gave her a slight wink, causing the heat to rise in her face again and she took her hand back.

A clearing of the throat sounded and she looked down at the boy, who gave Amuro a look that she couldn't interpret, but he could. "We should get going." "Sorry if I kept you," she bowed again, this time a little lighter. "Even though I'm grateful for your help, I don't want to keep you any longer." Amuro frowned, obviously not keen on the idea. "It's not a good idea to walk home alone in the dark." "It's not far now."

"Still," he replied, looking at her with a gaze that ran through her heart and soul. Beautiful, but deadly piercing, as if he knew everything about her. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, and I wouldn't be able to do so with a clear conscience, knowing you were wandering alone." He smiled slightly. "If you don't mind too much, I'd like to walk you home. Just to make sure the guy's really gone."

At that moment, she was grateful for the dim light, as she couldn't remember the last time she had blushed so much. "I...I really don't want to be a bother."

"Not at all." His eyes sparkled and he tilted his head. "If you don't mind: I insist." She was unable to look at him, so embarrassed was she, but nodded curtly, which elicited a pleased chuckle from him and, to her surprise, he even held out his arm for her to hook under. "Thank you very much, my lady. Lead the way."

Annoyed, Conan watched after them as the nervous woman led Amuro, who was obviously thriving in his role as hero, down the path and rolled his eyes. It was obvious that Amuro would insist on accompanying them to the front door, the courteous guy that he was. He sighed and followed them at a distance so he wouldn't have to listen to Amuro, who seemed to enjoy making the woman blush and embarrassed, charm her.

Ran would give him hell for being late home again.

[seattlesellie]

Ellie n abby eat ass I jus know it. Lmk what/how u think they go abt it

this was supposed to be a blurb. i swear to god.

abby ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚: baby blue

abby swears she likes patrols. she swears she does. they make her feel powerful, important, leave her panting with rushes of adrenaline coursing through her veins. she swears she likes them, but lately, her favorite thing about patrol started being coming home to you. seeing the look on your face, how your eyes light up, how you immediately pounce on her begging for a hug. your smell, your delicate hands trailing shapes down her stomach while she tells you about all the things she saw, all the things she killed. the best thing, however, were the things she brought. a delicate flower, a silly pin, a teddybear, anything that reminded her of you - she’d claim as hers. with her hands covered in blood, the sight of her large arms holding a pink duck plushie was borderline comedic. this one time, she even brought you a “cool looking rock” that she was so ashamed to gift you, but you ended up it putting beneath your pillow. everything she brought you was so special, so you, so abby.

last patrol, abby swore she met jesus. for abby, jesus wasnt the tiny pale blue skirt. jesus was you wearing it. when she found the fabric under a big pile of dusty clothes, her eye’s completely lit up. “oh shit” she muttered, a huge grin on her face, making manny side eye her so bluntly. the abby, the war machine, was giddy over a pale blue skirt?

“its not for me” was all she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

it was a wednesday afternoon, and abby was on patrol. again. the fact is, being without abby was like being without your very own source of holy water. her absence left you wandering around the wlf base like an aimless puppy, searching for stuff to do. one moment you were wandering the cafeteria, and five minutes later, you found yourself laying on top of one the gym benches, counting the cracks on the wall and trailing their shapes on your stomach.

“hey” you heard a familiar voice peaking behind you.

“oh- hey maya” you said, chirpy as ever. “whatcha doing?” the brunette responded, leaning on the wall near you. “nothing much… just laying here” you said with a smile, and got up to face her. “nice skirt” she said, visibly looking you up and down. getting looks from people wasnt new to you. whether it was for your looks, or the fault of your girlfriend, being looked at by curious eyes wasnt an exactly unfamiliar experience.

“thanks, abby got it for me on patrol” you responded with a big smile. talking about her always made you get like this. giddy, smiley, blushing.

“course she did” the brunette scoffed, gave you another piercing look and smiled. you let out a small sigh, suddenly feeling vulnerable at the amount of skin showing. to say that skirt was skimpy would be an understatement. “you look good” she retreated, and licked her lips slightly. you werent stupid, you knew people wanted you. but people also knew better than to mess with abbys girl. what you did notice, was maya’s advances at you. what you didnt, was abby standing in the corner of the gym’s entrance, examining you.

“leave her alone for 5 fucking minutes” she muttered under her breath and scoffed to herself. the jealousy was flooding her, but abby was a stern woman. with herself, and with other people. she knew how to manage herself, how to control her emotions, which is why she knew how to stop herself from ripping the girl to shreds, leaving her a mess on the floor.

slowly, she walked towards you.

big hands wrapped across your waist, startling you, making your breath hitch.

“abs!” you almost screeched. she smelled like wood and pine, she smelled like abby, your abby.

“hey there” she said sofly, still hugging you from behind, planting a delicate, soft kiss on top of your shoulder, squeezing you. abby couldnt help but glare at the girl in front of you, not breaking her eye contact. if that look had a name, it would be the “i’m gonna fucking strangle you” look. the girl rocked from one foot to the other, visibly perplexed. “nice catching up”, she mumbled.

“abs, think you scared her…” you said, turning around to face her. her icy blue eyes were burning through you. uh oh.

“yeah yeah” she scoffed, and immediately dropped her hands from your waist. one moment, she was hugging you. the next, she was benching.

“wh… not even gonna give me a kiss?” you asked, looking lost and confused. not even a kiss?

“mmph” she scoffed, yet again, while lifting another weight. her biceps were bulging through her shirt, shirt slightly hitching up with every lift, exposing her toned, beautiful v- line to you. if you didnt have any self respect, youd be drooling all over your shirt right now.

“abbyy? hello?” you stepped forward and waved your hand across her face. she immediately dropped the weights down to the floor, got closer to you, and whispered in your ear, not touching you for even a second. “that skirt?” she eyed you up and down, like she was examining her prey. “what?” you questioned, slightly pouting at her stern gaze.

“thats what you get up to when im not here?”

it all clicked now. you took a step forward, and said; “maybe if you didnt leave me…” and rolled your eyes at her. she immediately opened her eyes widely, perplexed at your sudden rush of courage. abby hated when you disrespected her. abby hated your eye rolling habit even more.

“what did you just say?” she said, squinting her eyebrows slightly. you took a step back, but if one moment you were in front of her, at the next one, in the speed of light, she grabbed your wrist forcefully and started dragging you behind her. she was walking so fast, her steps so big compared to yours, you basically had to skip to catch up with her. her grip became tighter and tighter, and by the moment you left the gym, she was practically walking you like a dog.

as soon as you stepped inside the cafeteria, someone had the audacity to approach abby. “hey ab-“ the friendly voice said. “not now” she was almost growling. her grip was hurting you, leaving red marks.

“ouch- abby- that hurts” what was she doing? she stopped right in her tracks, turned you around to face her, and her gaze softened for a moment. she grabbed your wrist, planted a soft kiss while maintaining eye contact, and a moment later continued with her dragging.

usually, walking from the gym to her room would take you 15 minutes. today, it took 8.

she opened the door with her key, hand still grabbing your wrist.

as she opened the door, she practically slammed you across it, almost kicking you to her room. “wha-“ was all you could mutter, before she closed the door with a bang, and pushed you on the door, grabbing both of your wrists now. you could feel her hot breath against your neck, and you couldnt help but arch your back, popping your ass ever so slightly. that act made abby let out a mean chuckle. “slut” she whispered to you, but it was more for her to hear.

she pushed up against you, her strong chest slamming you further against the door.

“its like that, yeah?” she whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. you couldnt help but whimper. “like what?” you whined.

“like you want everyone to see you, huh?” she cood, leaving you breathless beneath her frame.

“want everyone to see whats mine?”

she whispered against you, hers.

“n- no abby…” you whined, as your cunt started to ache. you felt suddenly so embarrassed, so vulnerable cheeks heating up.

she started panting, getting all worked up from hearing you whine against her. if she wasnt so mad, shed turn you around, make you face her. shed wanna look into your eyes, see you. but she cant, she just wants to ruin you now, ruin you for anyone else but her.

her hand started going further and further up your shirt, and she felt so warm, her hands so big and calloused against your soft skin. she forcefully ripped the lace bra (that she got you) away from your breasts, pinched your nipples harshly, and began toying with them as if they belonged only to her. you moaned at her touch, releasing a sound so loud it could make the entire base explode. could people hear you? yes. did abby give a fuck? absolutely not.

“want everyone to see your ass, huh?” she tsks, as she shamelessly pushed her crotch against your ass, making you whimper.

“n-no abby…” you whispered. abby yanked your hair down, releasing a choked up moan from your lips. that moan mafe her cunt ache just as much as yours.

she sighed, and demanded your answer. “whos ass is this?” she slapped both of your ass cheeks harshly, making you almost scream. yeah, thats gonna leave a mark, she thought.

“s’yours abby” you yelped. her body was so hot against yours, so rough and forceful you could almost see stars.

“who owns this ass?” she asked, bringing both of her hands to wrap around your neck, and your throat felt like it was fucking burning, holding on to your lungs, not letting you breathe in the slightest.

“answer me” she grunted, trailing bite marks down your back.

“you!” you whispered, all choked up, feeling the hot tears leaking from your face. your cunt ached for friction, just something to feel your clit grind against.

you almost say it, almost tell her, how much your pussy needs her, how wet shes making you, how deeply you want to get fucked, but all that comes out of your mouth are desperate little moans and breaths that make abby’s head spin.

“need to hear you say it” she grunts, drops her hands from your throat and lands another harsh slap on your ass, one that leaves her hand practically vibrating.

youre full on mumbling now, drunk on her touch. “you own this ass abby” and fuck, if hearing those words didnt kill her.

she immediately dropped down to her knees, and before you know it, shes yanking your panties down from your aching cunt, the fabric leaving a burn mark on your inner thigh. “ahh abby- ab- abby” you moan incoherent. “thats right, just like that” she said in a high pitched voice, almost desperate.

“my fucking ass” she mumbles to herself, and the next thing you know shes parting your asscheeks with her rough hands so hard you could almost tear in half.

the sight made her breath hitch, and when she finally managed to steady her breathing, a deep sigh escapes her lips. your ass spread open like this for her, the fact that she can see everything leads her to moan and clench her thighs together.

she spat out a huge glob, and as youre whimpering and backing your ass up for her, she starts rubbing the spit on your tightest hole, making it glisten, making the spit run down your thighs like diamonds. “please abby…” you whine. it feels so fucking good but you need more - her hot breaths are caressing your hole, making you clench tight.

she slowly starts rubbing her pointer finger up and down your slit, making your knees buck. you almost fall down from the pleasure, almost crumble beneath her, but her free hand is holding down your ankle not letting you move in the slightest, gluing you to the ground.

suddenly, you feel the warmth of her tongue on your tight little hole. shes growling in it, cupping her cunt because she just couldnt help herself. her tongue goes up and down, and then right inside you, and your mind goes completely numb, fucked out of your ass.

“mmhhm” she mumbles. “so fucking good”, and it sounds animalistic. her hand leaves her core, and she gives you another harsh slap, grabbing your asscheek and smothering it with her hand, kneading it like soft dough, jiggling it like her life depends on it.

her tongue moves from your tight hole to the hole of your pussy, slurping up all of the juices youre leaking, combined with her globs of spit. the sounds of harsh slurping and moaning are leaving her mouth and you feel like youre gonna come undone from just her tongue deep in your ass, and then - she stops. all the contact is gone, leaving you breathless, scratching the door.

“wh- wh” you started panting uncontrollably. you wanted to ask her what she was doing. why did she stop. you couldnt even speak. she got up, not even bothering to clean up the mess that was running down her chin, making it sticky and warm.

“gonna split you in half” she says, and you swore you were gone.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Undersea Advisor.

In life, there are many variables to account for. Ah, but variables can be manipulated.

He remakes the world in his image.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

There are several little glass containers, lined up in a neat row, on his work bench. He is the master, and this is his craft: pocket dimensions, each with a different biome bottled.

Here is a lush garden with enchanted roses and caterpillars that blow smoke, and a savanna where miniature beasts race about. A desert with its own oasis--a massive scarab running amok, a regal castle he had painstakingly constructed with a pair of tweezers for a peacock no bigger than his thumb... He had even somehow managed to create a sleek building blinking blue lights and a crumbling chateau overrun with moss and bite-size bats.

His current project is a bowl of salt water, a layer of sand decorated with seaweed and coral at the bottom. He had taken the liberty of tucking fake jewels, a plastic treasure box, and a model of a sunken ship in.

For flair, he chuckles to himself. All that's left is to find proper aquatic specimens to house in it.

From the doorway, Jade adjusts the straps on his backpack, making sure that they're secure, that his supplies are in order. His boots laced, his jacket buttoned, he marches out the door and into the wilderness.

The forest is quiet and without trees but is not devoid of life.

Instead of trunks, there are stems--plump, pillowy, in various shades of white and cream. They are wider at the base and narrower at the head, which gives way to fluted undersides. Gills, Jade knows, a very different kind than those of a merman.

The air is clean and refreshing, lightly washed with spores. Not visible to the naked eye, but at the right refractions of sunlight, Jade can see them dancing into shapes upon the wind.

Circular shadows are cast across the ground, belonging to the caps that tower far above him. Mushrooms--macro-sized--have taken over the feet of the mountain, making it a suitable hideout for his hobbies. Sunlight spills through the cracks between the clustered caps, forming golden pools along the forest floor.

Jade makes a game of hopping upon them, one by one.

It isn't long before he comes upon the stream that cuts through the heart of the wood. A thin and humble little thing, able to be crossed in a single stride of his long legs.

Jade drops his backpack and drops to one knee. He inspects the fresh water up close with a careful eye. It's clear and still at the edges, white and foamy in the center, where it flows the fastest.

His heart leaps when he sees it--a streak of silver darting by.

He kicks off his footwear and rolls his pants up, silently stepping into the stream. Jade is cautious about not splashing, to avoid making noises or movements as that would disturb the wildlife.

He stands there, watching. Waiting, waiting, for that next fish to pass.

He thinks he sees it, a glimmer laid deep in the water. He reaches for it, fingers grazing wetness, but does not complete the grab.

“You like that, don’t you? The feeling of being in control, a life dancing in your palm,” a musical voice rings out. “It grants you security, assuredness.”

His eyes flicker down. His reflection shifts in the churning water, but he can see its mouth moving when his doesn’t.

An obstacle—amusing.

Jade purses his lips into a patient smile. “Oya, does a pixie presume to know those who visit their forest?”

“I am no pixie. In this pool of tears, all is laid bare,” his reflection says, “and given truth.”

“You claim to speak the truth. If that is the case, then you take no issue with divulging sensitive state secrets?” Jade’s smile grows, turning sharp. “To demonstrate your veracity, of course. I do not intend to misuse the information.”

“I know that you lie as easily as you breathe,” the pool replies, “for I have knowledge of only the souls that gaze into me.”

“A shame. I was quite curious about your awe-inspiring powers. Alas, there are limits put on greatness. It appears as though a puddle can never match the ocean in size nor in bounty.”

His reflection is not irked by his needling. “If you wish to take, then you must offer up a piece of yourself of equal value.”

“You have said that I lie as easily as I breathe. Is the word of a liar worth its salt?”

“You must speak truthfully.”

“But if I am a liar, and you have assumed my appearance, does that not, by proxy, make you a liar as well? That means what was uttered earlier is a lie, and I must tell an untruth—which I have already provided.”

The reflection pauses, considering the logic. Slow horror dawns on its expression—stolen from him—and it glowers.

"Liar," the reflection bitterly spits. It vanishes into the frothing waters.

There's a sigh, then the shudder of a release that fills the forest of mushrooms. Something, somewhere, has shattered.

Silver fills the clear stream, coloring it one shiny, metallic shade. Fins and scales bat against his skin. Healthy, plentiful.

Jade plunges an arm elbow-deep, and--

He gasps.

Something latches onto his arm and violently tugs. He's brought face-to-face with his own shocked expression, droplets hissing at him.

The stream, Jade realizes, should not be this deep.

He resists, trying to throw his body weight back, but the force holds tight. The slimy grip tightening like a fist.

He does not to fully relish in the surprise, so rare a feeling for him, before there is another strong pull. Jade falls forward, eyes wide as the water hits him in full.

Slowly, slowly... he finds himself sinking into an abyss.

It's the sea, deep and dark, shrouded by black mist. A ship-shaped shadow looms, at the inky depths--and through holes punched in the hull, undiscovered treasures wink up at him. Chests of forgotten gold and gems, like stars blinking in and out of view.

He dangles, suspended, like a puppet left upon the stage that has closed for the night. The scene, the stands, empty, save for the vague shapes of coral and twisting tendrils of seaweed.

Something shifts among the plants, and Jade tenses, preparing for a fight.

A long shape darts by, and his gaze tracks. The markings on it glow teal, peering through the murk--he recognizes it at once, relaxing.

"Floyd."

The name bubbles up and breaks upon the surface of the stream.

His twin circles him, his weaving tail sending Jade's jacket billowing. One is in the body of a human and the other, in their true form.

Floyd wordlessly grins, showing teeth like knives.

Behind him, the shadows swirl--a mess of writhing, squishy limbs and agonized moans. Tentacles, tentacles, painting a canvas with darkness.

A voice calls from somewhere in the void.

Floaty, far away.

"... de....... ade..."

"Jade!!"

He snaps awake, drawing in a deep gulp of air. As if he had just arisen from a dive.

Jade is seated at his workbench, blanked on either side. "Floyd, Azul..."

"We came as you had instructed, but it appears that now is not a good time," his dorm leader remarks. "You were sleeping like a log when we arrived."

"So I smashed a window with a rock and we let ourselves in!" Floyd declares proudly. Azul casts him a wary look.

"Just so you are aware, I am not to be held accountable for any damages incurred," he says hastily. "It was entirely Floyd's idea--I warned him against it and had him sign a liability form to assume any and all fees, should he ignore my advice and proceed with his ill-advised plot."

"Pfft." Jade chuckles. "My apologies. I must have become so enraptured in my project that I neglected to maintain a proper sleep schedule. The fault is mine, so I will not press charges."

Azul sighs, relieved. "Now, back to the matter at hand. For what reason have you summoned us here today?"

"Ah, that." Jade holds up his fishbowl, beaming. "I wished to share this with you both."

"Mmm, what is it?" Floyd asks, peering into the container. His face comes out the other end of it stretched wide and distorted, like the result of a funhouse mirror. "Looks like just some water to me."

"Another terrarium, I suspect." Azul pushes up his glasses as he surveys the other containers on the work bench "I see, so you've made one each in the image of the dormitories at Night Raven College. This one must be Octavinelle."

He suddenly frowns.

"Wait a minute, what is this?!" Azul thrusts a finger at a round little octopus suctioned to the inside of the bowl. The area around it is clouded with wisps of black.

"Hehehe, looks like Jade was right on the money with this one. That's so you, Azul."

"I-It is NOT!!"

"Really?" Jade's brows lift. "As I recall, you were exactly like this, tears and all, when..."

"AAAAAAAAH, stop, stooooop!! D-Don't say it, I can't bear that!!"

Jade laughs--soft and musical--granting his wailing dorm leader that single mercy. His chest is warm and full, a feeling his lies don't come close to.

I believe I’ve found myself company that is much more entertaining than any world right at my fingertips.

It’s his truth, the only one he has told this entire time.

[unformula1]

phantom pain (CS55 x reader)

phantom pain (CS55 x reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ getting over Carlos isn’t easy. you know it best. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pairing: carlos sainz x reader w/c: 1005 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ a/n: based on phantom pain by elijah woods!! have fun reading angst! masterlist(read more) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You fiddle with your jacket and continuously cross and uncross your legs. You take out your phone and scroll endlessly on any social media app possibly, even going into your photos to scroll through them.

You lift your head for the occasional glances at Carlos, who sits across from you with his friends. His smile is wider than you remember and his laugh is more attractive than you know. He chats with his friends as if you’re not directly opposite him.

He’s carefree and you loathe that about him.

He’s so numb to whatever happened.

He makes it look easy to get over you, as if you were just another page in his endless story, while you were still unable to flip the page.

“Carlos!” You shout, running up and pouncing into his arms.

He catches you effortlessly and plants a kiss on your head. 

“It’s good to see you.” He chuckles, holding your hand tightly.

Both of you take a stroll to the beach, you shooting the occasional gaze into his eyes and him giving you random pecks on your cheek.

The evening sun was cooling but still had warmth to it, it was a perfect balance. You loved it and Carlos knew that. 

Both of you sit on the bench, overlooking the vast and endless ocean, your head slowly falls onto Carlos’ shoulder and he gently pats it.

Two birds of a feather.

You slam your apartment door shut and lock it before falling to the ground. It kills you, a knife that keeps twisting in an open wound. The thought of Carlos moving on from you, moving on from whatever you two had.

Just the sole thought of Carlos’ arms around someone else made you scream internally.

Quiet nights were never the easiest ever since Carlos left you. You still miss every single thing about being with him, you miss the joy of seeing his smile as you walked into the bedroom.

---

It weighs down on you as you drag your feet to your closet, swinging it open. It doesn’t help that the first thing you see is Carlos’ clothes. He left some of them behind when he walked off. His jacket, still fresh with his scent, lies in the mix of all your other clothes.

You don’t take notice of any of your clothes and pull out Carlos’ jacket. The scent of his cologne, or perfume, you never knew, still lingers in the air. You pull the jacket closer, missing everything about him. You hold it tight and hold it close, praying hard that you could feel Carlos again.

---

The toilet mirror fogs up from the amount of time you spend standing motionlessly in the shower dreaming of whatever Carlos and you could’ve been. The steaming water crashes down onto your body and flows down to your legs as you stand there stoned to the ground.

Could you two have been forever?

Could you two have had the romance of the century?

Kissing in cars, late night movies and cuddles forever.

All that there is is just a what if.

You get out of the shower after an hour or so, most of which was just the tears being wiped away by the gushing shower water or you dreaming of everything possible. 

You lift your head up and look in the mirror, it’s missing something. It’s missing Carlos. It’s missing how he would wrap his arms around your body and hold it close. It’s missing his warm touch on you, it’s missing Carlos. 

You miss Carlos.

---

You walk into the bedroom, freshened up from your shower, and you’re met with an empty bed. Same bed is just a little bit bigger now. You feel a tingling sensation at your throat and the tears threaten to flow out once again.

It’s empty.

You turn off the lights and immediately you feel Carlos’ touch, his hands running through your hair and wrapping around your body, his breath against your neck. You shiver and turn the lights back on.

It’s empty. It’s quiet.

You hate this feeling. The lingering touch of his fingertips running gently across your skin, only this time it feels ghostly, and it sends the bad kind of shivers down your spine.

---

A few hours pass and you still lay wide awake on the empty bed, you’re not used to this. You’ve gotten used to Carlos laying by your side, your head in his embrace and the warmth he had. Now it’s just cold.

You stare at your ceiling, your stare blank and unreadable. The silence of the night used to be peaceful, it’s upsetting you how quiet this is. There’s no Carlos, there’s no peace. 

The thoughts of the day drift around in your head. Seeing Carlos so carefree, running around as if nothing happened. Running around as if you didn’t give him all your love only for things to fall apart. Running around as if you two never gave each other the world.

The bed’s shivering embrace holds you in and you feel the tears brimming in your eyes. You feel incomplete without Carlos. Something is always missing without Carlos.

His jacket lays next to you as you hold tightly onto it, wishing on anything and everything that he could come home. 

You miss Carlos, you hate yourself for breaking this apart. You feel the guilt of not doing enough pressing hard onto your chest. You feel the dread of knowing you could’ve been so much more dragging you further and further into an endless void.

Maybe this could’ve worked out in another world, maybe Carlos would’ve stayed. 

Your heart aches. You feel his lasting touch on your skin and his warmth around you, but it’s slowly fading away. There’s only so much that you can imagine. His hands in your hair and his fingers on your skin, you want it back. You want Carlos back, you wish he would come back to you and kiss you one more time.

But all that’s left for you is phantom pain.

[d1stalker]

ORIGIN sneak peak!

It's going to be somewhere between 12-14k words, depending on how much i edit it. i wanna have it up by tmr evening but idkkkk it might be posted sometime during the weekend !!! I am very busy atm

if you know his origin story, then that's what the plot is very loosely based on (its so un-canon it's funny) but the actual story is a lot more reader focused.

----

Before he was known as Logan, or as Wolverine, he was James. 

Your James. 

—

It’s quiet in the Howlett estate, the kind of stillness that only comes when everyone has long retired for the night. But while the rest of the mansion sleeps, you remain wide awake. Dressed in your nightgown and nestled under the blankets, you glance at the small, brass pocketwatch resting on your bedside table. The hands read 10:22 PM. Any minute now, you think to yourself. 

Then, like clockwork, you hear it—a faint knock on your door. Three slow, deliberate taps, followed by two quick ones. The secret signal never fails to make you smile. You spring from the bed, feet softly padding across the floor as you hurry to the door. You open it as quietly as possible, your grin widening the moment you see who’s waiting on the other side.

James.

He stands there, tousled brown hair and that familiar mischievous smile that always manages to light up the dim hallway. You’ve known him your entire life, growing up together under the roof of the Howlett mansion. Your parents, both loyal servants to the Howlett family, were fortunate enough to be granted permission raise you alongside their son. From the moment you could walk, you and James were inseparable, sharing countless adventures in the woods, running across the estate’s expansive gardens, and whispering secrets to one another under moonlit skies.

"About time," you whisper, teasing him with a playful glint in your eyes. "You really know how to keep a lady waiting, don’t you?"

A soft snort escapes his lips as he grabs your hand, pulling you gently into the hallway. "My deepest apologies, M’lady," he replies with mock formality, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "I had to... attend to urgent business in the necessary."

You snicker, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Ah, I see. Was it a fulfilling experience, sir Howlett?"

He glances over his shoulder, rolling his eyes with exaggerated exasperation, though you catch the small smirk tugging at his lips. He doesn’t respond, but his silence confirms everything. 

The rest of the trip is quiet, the two of you moving stealthily through the darkened corridors, careful not to disturb anyone or draw unwanted attention. After all, your mother would certainly disapprove of such late-night rendezvous. It is improper, she would say.

But what choice did you have? The day offered no time for moments like this. You were busy training to take over as the next chief maid, learning the endless routines of the household, while James spent his time with his family or other highborn friends. It was only after hours, when the mansion finally settled, that the two of you could steal away for these secret meetings.

Finally, you reach the gardens. The crisp night air greets you as you slip past the tall hedges, the two of you hidden away from any prying eyes. There’s a familiar sense of peace here, among the fragrant flowers and the towering trees that shield you from the world. James leads you to your usual spot, a stone bench tucked beneath the shadow of the hedges. Wordlessly, he slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before taking a dramatic bow.

"To keep you warm, M’lady," he says softly.

"Hush, James," you murmur, though your words lack any bite. 

You’re grateful, especially as the cool night air nips at your exposed skin. The nightgown, while comfortable, offers little protection against the chill. You pull his jacket tighter around yourself, then pat the empty spot next to you, gesturing to him to sit, to which he does.

“How was your day?" you prompt.

James sighs, leaning back on the bench, his hand casually resting behind you as he stares up at the sky. "Same old, same old," he starts, a familiar twinge of annoyance creeping into his voice. "You know how it is. Dinners with my parents, listening to old men talk about businesses I'll never care about, trying not to fall asleep while they drone on about investments or land expansions. It’s all so posh."

You stifle a giggle, nudging him playfully with your elbow. "Posh, huh? You sound like you're living the dream."

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "If by 'dream,' you mean sitting there pretending to care while wondering how quickly I can escape to see you, then yeah, it's an absolute dream," he says sarcastically.

Laughing softly, you bring your hand up to your forehead, acting distressed. "Oh, how tragic. The poor Lord James Howlett, trapped in a world of lavish dinners and fancy wine. Whatever will you do?"

"Mock me all you want, but it’s unbearable," he groans, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I hate it. All the stuffy clothes, the fake smiles, the way everyone acts like they're better than everyone else." He pauses for a moment, then glances sideways at you. "You're the only real thing in that entire mansion."

The sincerity in his words makes your heart flutter, and you’re suddenly grateful for the darkness hiding the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. Looking away, you try to play it off. "Well, if that’s the case, I guess I should charge you for my company," you tease coyly.

He lets out a huff of amusement, shaking his head. "I'll pay whatever price you want.”

There's a pause as you both sit in comfortable silence, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Just then, a soft breeze sweeps through the garden, catching the edges of your nightgown and fanning it up slightly. Before you can even react, he swiftly moves his jacket from your shoulders to your lap, covering your legs. His hand lingers, making sure you're covered before he hastily wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you close against him.

The warmth from his body contrasts with the cool air, and you can't help but laugh softly at his sudden behaviour. "Wow, you really are a gentleman, James."

He tenses slightly, his grip on your shoulder loosening as he looks away, clearly flustered. "I—I just didn’t want you to get cold," he mumbles, his usual confidence faltering.

You smile at how shy he suddenly seems, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Thank you. It’s sweet."

For a moment, he says nothing, but you can feel the way his heartbeat picks up just a little. Then, almost too quietly, he mutters, "I’d do anything for you."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you tilt your head to look up at him. But you can’t respond, because he clears his throat, looking down at you with a small, sheepish smile. "What about you? Any exciting adventures in the life of a future chief maid?"

You grin, recognizing his attempt to shift the conversation, and decide to let it go for now. "Oh, you know, the usual. A thrilling day of dusting, folding linens, and trying not to spill tea on your mother’s favorite rug."

James chuckles, pulling you a little closer. "Sounds way more exciting than my day."

Neither of you speak, relishing just being in eachother’s presence. 

"So, do tell," you say softly, breaking the silence, "if you could get away from all the fancy dinners and boring conversations, what would you do?"

He smiles slightly, his gaze still fixed on the star-filled sky. "I’d leave. Go far away from here, maybe somewhere quiet. Live in the countryside, where no one cares about wealth or titles." He glances down at you. "Maybe you’d come with me."

You laugh gently. "And who would take care of your family if we both ran off?"

Shrugging, his expression grows more serious. "They don’t need me. Not really. They need someone who’ll do what they want—someone to follow in their footsteps. That’s never been me."

There’s a weight in his words, and you feel a pang of sympathy for him. You’re about to respond, to tell him you understand more than he realizes, when—

BANG.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Forgotten Nest (Part 7) - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 5.2k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Angst; Absent Parental Figures; The 'He Didn't Know About the Pregnancy' Trope; Repeating Trauma Cycles; Crying; Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie)

Summary: In the few days before the mission, Nickie has important conversations with his mom, his grandfather, and maybe even his estranged father.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Epilogue

Master List

It was the day after Ice’s funeral and somehow the Mitchells had to go back to normal. Maverick reported for duty early, Cora went back to work as usual, and Nickie stayed late at school to make up some of the work that he missed. But it wasn’t back to normal. Not really.

Walking out of school, Nickie looked up to see his mom’s car roll around the corner of the school. A bit nervously, Nickie made his way over. They hadn’t talked last night about much of anything. Everyone sort of went in their separate directions and stewed in their own thoughts. And Nickie knew that his mom and his grandfather saw the wings that he pinned to his jacket.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Cora greeted him with a small smile. “How was school?”

“Long,” Nickie replied quietly, sinking into his seat. “How was work?”

“Same old, same old,” Cora stated as she put the car in drive.

They stared heading home, though Cora got tenser and tenser with every mile. Gripping the steering wheel tighter than normal, Cora stared at the stop light in front of them, before quickly putting her turn signal on and making a right. Nickie looked over at his mom with clear confusion, since this wasn’t the direction home. But Cora continued driving.

“Where are we going?” Nickie asked his mom, who shot him a small smile in return.

“You’ll see.”

Nickie leaned back in his seat, still confused, but trusting his mom. Cora eventually pulled down a winding road that ended in a parking lot. They could see the naval ships in the harbor and the planes overhead reminded Nickie that base wasn’t very far.

Wordlessly, Cora turned off the car and stepped out, causing Nickie to do the same. Cora walked down the path, made her way down to a bench, and sat down on the worn wood. She patted the spot next to her and Nickie sat down without much of a fuss, though he felt a rock settle in his stomach when he caught his mom’s expression.

“Mom, I can explain . . .” Nickie started off softly.

“Do you remember all the times that I would bring you out here when you were little to watch the ships?” Cora asked, staring over at the ships docked in port. “You would just sit out here for hours, endlessly entertained.”

“Mom?” Nickie asked, looking over at her with some concern.

“Or all of the times that your grandfather brought you to the museum in town? He had to run after you once because you wanted to touch the plane and you just slipped under the ropes,” Cora mused, smiling at the memories. “You know, I think if your grandfather’s face wasn’t in some of those photos in the museum, the security guard would have been a lot meaner to him.”

“Mom?” Nickie repeated, softer this time.

Sobering, Cora took a breath before turning to her son. Nickie could see a thin layer of tears in her eyes, but didn’t comment on it. Mostly because he could feel some building behind his own eyes. Cora smiled painfully and cupped her son’s cheek, rubbing her thumb along his skin.

“What I’m trying to say, Nickie, is that part of me always knew that you could someday end up in the Navy,” Cora began, dropping her hand down to grab Nickie’s hand and give it a squeeze. “I mean, all of your father figures were aviators. You grew up in a Navy town. Your grandfather always brought you to the airshows and told you all about his stories.”

She dropped her head for a moment, trying to compose herself. Biting the inside of her cheek, Cora turned back to Nickie with a small smile.

“I know that you probably think that I’m going to tell you that you can’t go. But I’m not.”

“Really?” Nickie asked, sounding shocked. “But, Mom, you wouldn’t even let me on a trampoline growing up.”

“And I stick by that,” Cora stated firmly. “Do you know how many kids come in with broken bones—never mind. That’s not why I brought you here.” Composing herself, Cora let out a breath and turned back to her son. “Answer a few questions for me, Nickie. Do you want to go into the Navy?”

“Yes,” Nickie replied quietly, without much confidence in his mom’s presence.

“More than you want any other career path?”

“Yes,” Nickie returned with more confidence than before.

“And will going into the Navy make you happy?”

“I think so.”

“And do you have a backup plan in case you can’t become a naval aviator for whatever reason?”

“Well, I know that I want to do something mechanical. I mean, Gramps had me working on cars and bikes for my entire life . . . it’s what I know. It’s what I feel comfortable with and what I want to do,” Nickie explained, causing Cora to nod slowly. Nickie scooched a little closer to his mom, still surprised at her words. “You’re really okay with me going into the Navy?”

“In all honesty, I’m not thrilled, Nickie,” Cora stated, causing Nickie’s expression to fall a bit. “If I had it my way, you would go into business or something where the most dangerous part of your day was getting to and from work.”

Cora’s gaze softened again when Nickie turned away from her, a bit shy. Grabbing Nickie’s chin gently and tilting it up so that Nickie locked eyes with her again, Cora smiled.

“But it’s not my life, Nickie. It’s yours. And I can’t—I don’t want to be that parent who stands in the way of their child’s dreams because they’re too scared of what could happen or they’re too afraid to let go. I don’t want to be that kind of mom.”

Turning to face her son fully, Cora grabbed his hands and gave them a squeeze.

“All I have ever wanted for you, Nickie, was for you to be happy. For you to not have to worry about the things that I had to worry about when I was your age. I wanted you to be able to live your life without my past or your grandfather’s past or . . . anyone else’s past holding you back.”

“Like how it happened for Bradley?” Nickie asked, causing Cora to pause for a moment.

“Yeah,” she agreed quietly. “Like that.”

Cora slowly turned to look at the back of the bench. Nickie followed his mom’s gaze and paused when he noticed the plaque in the middle of the wood. It was small and not very noticeable, but there was a plaque that read a simple message:

In memory of LTJG Nicholas “Goose” Bradshaw

“That’s the thing about becoming a parent. You look back at your childhood and you try to make choices to give your kids an easier life than the one you had. But sometimes you overcorrect. And sometimes you didn’t see the problem in the first place until it smacks you in the face all over again.”

“Mom, planes have come a long way since 1986,” Nickie pointed out, causing Cora to turn back to him. “Safety wise.”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart. I wasn’t talking about that.” Looking down at her lap for a moment, Cora took a breath. “Your father. Bradley. He always felt like he had to prove himself to the memory of his dad. And he made a lot of decisions trying to impress someone who was gone and who would have loved him regardless of any of those choices.”

Cora stared into her son’s eyes as she squeezed his hands.

“And I want to make sure that if you go into the Navy, you’re doing it for yourself. Not for Maverick. Not for Ice. Not for me . . . and definitely not to prove anything to Rooster.” Cora held her son’s gaze for a moment before adding, “I want you to do it for yourself, Nickie. Do you understand me?”

“I do, Mom.”

“Good.”

With a watery gaze, Cora pulled her son in for a hug that he quickly returned. Latching onto his mom like he was a little kid again, Nickie let a few tears dribble down from his eyes and onto her scrubs. Cora rocked her son back and forth, holding a hand to the back of his head like she did when he was a baby and she was trying to soothe him in the middle of the night.

“I thought that you’d be mad,” Nickie whispered out shakily, causing Cora to shake her head. “Or disappointed in me.”

“Nickie, I could never be disappointed in you,” Cora stated, squeezing him tighter. “You’re my baby. And you’re smart, you’re kind. You’re the kid who always got praise from all of his teachers for standing up for other kids and inviting everyone to play.” Letting out a choked sound herself, Cora tugged him closer. “I’m so proud of you, Nickie. And I’ll always be proud of you. And if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t be honest with me about this, I’m sorry, Nickie. I’m so sorry.”

“I know that you just wanted me to be safe, Mom,” Nickie croaked out emotionally.

“You’re a Mitchell. We’re not the safest bunch,” Cora blurted out, causing Nickie to laugh with her. Pulling back from the hug, Cora wiped Nickie’s tears away with her hand. “I love you, Nickie. Okay? And nothing will ever change that.”

“I know, Mom. I love you too.”

~~~~~

“I told you that you were worrying over nothing,” Amelia told Nickie as they sat out in the backyard of the Benjamin house.

“I know,” Nickie replied, shooting Amelia a small smile. “I should probably listen to you more often.”

“At least you realize it.” They sat side by side, watching the waves crash before Amelia slowly turned back to Nickie with a more serious expression. “Do you know when they ship out?”

“Any day now, I would assume,” Nickie stated, shrugging his shoulders. “We’ll probably only know the night before.”

“Have you talked to Mav yet about the Navy?”

“No, but I will. Before he leaves,” Nickie answered, nodding to himself.

“Are you going to try to talk to . . .” Amelia trailed off, causing Nickie to look at the ground.

“I don’t know,” Nickie replied honestly. “I feel like I should, but . . . he’s still the bastard who abandoned us. Should I really give him a chance?”

“I don’t know,” Amelia stated, shrugging her shoulders. Turning to look out over the waves, Amelia gripped the edge of the bench. “I know that I stopped giving my dad chances a long time ago.” She slowly looked over at Nickie, who was still staring at the ground. “But knowing you, you’re going to beat yourself up if something happens on this mission and you never talked to him.”

“And what if nothing happens and I gave him a chance that he didn’t deserve?”

“Then you can tell him to fuck off when he gets back,” Amelia replied bluntly. Turning back to Nickie, Amelia shoved him lightly on the shoulder. “Isn’t the whole Mitchell mantra about not thinking? Why are you overthinking this? Do you want to talk to him or not?”

“I want answers,” Nickie stated quietly, causing Amelia to nod.

“And where are you going to get them?”

“Him,” Nickie added lamely. Letting out a groan, Nickie rubbed his face tiredly. “Goddammit.”

~~~~~

After the orders were given that they would be shipping out the following morning, the Daggers seemed to scatter to the wind. Those with families spent their last night on FaceTime or in town with them. Some just wanted their solitude and peace to center themselves.

And Rooster didn’t have a plan. He was just going to wander, quite honestly. Until life moved in a direction for him.

“Rooster,” Hondo called, causing Rooster to slow and turn to face the warrant officer.

Holding out a piece of paper, Hondo stared Rooster down and motioned for him to take the paper. Rooster tentatively reached out and took it to find a location and time written down.

“It’s top-secret correspondence,” Hondo stated, causing Rooster to turn back to him.

“From who?”

“An unnamed source,” Hondo replied stiffly. “Just . . . don’t fuck it up.”

And without another word, Hondo turned on his heel and walked off, leaving Rooster standing there with just a piece of paper in his hand. Staring down at it again, Rooster slowly folded it up and tucked it into the pocket of his flight suit before heading for the locker room. He had a guess as to who would try to get a message to him through Hondo.

And he desperately wanted to speak with her.

~~~~~

Pulling into the lot just down the beach from the Hard Deck, Rooster turned off his car and stepped out into the warm Miramar air. Dressed in his civilian clothes, Rooster looked around for Cora, but the figure who got out of their car and turned to him was too tall to be Cora.

It was Nickie, Rooster realized, after the teenager stepped forward.

The father and son stood several feet apart, neither seemingly wanting to make the first move. Bradley was still in shock that Nickie wanted to even look at him and Nickie was still summoning all of his courage to ask the questions that had been hammering around in his head for his entire life.

“You came,” was what Nickie started off with.

“I did,” Rooster replied quietly, shutting the door to his car. Looking up and down the landscape, Rooster turned back to Nickie. “Does your mom know that you’re here?”

“No,” Nickie stated honestly. He tilted his chin up a bit, almost challenging Rooster. “Are you going to tell on me?”

“No,” Rooster replied, shaking his head.

Nickie stared up at Rooster for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists as he shifted his weight around on his feet. Letting out a breath, Nickie turned back to his father with a hardened expression that made Rooster more than a little nervous.

“Why did you never come back? Why did you never read any of her letters?” Nickie demanded with his voice thick with emotion. “Why the hell did you turn your back on my mom and never look back? What the hell did she do to you?”

“Nothing,” Rooster stated after a few moments of silence.

“Then why did you do it?” Nickie hissed, glaring over at Rooster.

“Because I was . . . am an idiot,” Rooster replied quietly, knowing that excuses weren’t going to do him any good here. Looking down at the ground for a moment, Rooster tried to find the right words. “And I . . . I was worried that she would slam the door in my face if I showed up again.”

“So, you just did it to her then?” Nickie scoffed, his jaw ticking with thinly veiled annoyance. Shaking his head as the anger simmered in his stomach, Nickie took a step closer to Rooster. “Do you have any idea of what you put her through? Do you think it was easy for her to raise me as a single mom? Do you think that she wanted that?”

“No,” Rooster returned, shaking his head calmly. Clearing his throat, Rooster rubbed the back of his neck. “My mom . . . your grandmother . . . she was a single mom for most of my life. I know it’s not easy. I know it’s not the life that most people choose to have.”

“That makes it worse,” Nickie scoffed, shooting Rooster a sharper glare.

“Do you know about her? About . . . your grandmother?” Rooster asked quietly after a few moments, causing Nickie to pause with the change in conversation.  

“Of course, I do. The only person that my mom ever hid from me was you,” Nickie all but snapped, causing Rooster to wince. Letting out a breath from his nose, Nickie looked at the ground as some of the anger left his body. Kicking a rock, Nickie kept his gaze down and his voice level. “I grew up on her recipes. On . . . my grandmother’s recipes.”

“Even the birthday surprise cake?” Bradley questioned emotionally.

“Every year,” Nickie returned, some more anger leaving his system. “Until I was like thirteen.”

“She used to make those cakes for your mom and for me. For our birthdays,” Bradley replied, sounding like he was talking more to himself than Nickie for a moment. Bradley stared down at the ground, taking a breath to calm himself down. “You know, I was about your age when . . . when she died.”

“My mom told me,” Nickie responded softly, swallowing a lump in his throat.

Ice had only been gone for a few days and sometimes Nickie had to remind himself that he was never going to get a text from Ice asking for him to come over. Not anymore. Turning back to his dad, Nickie set his jaw and let out a quiet sniffle.

“Fuck cancer,” Nickie stated, causing Rooster to pick his head up.

“Fuck cancer,” Rooster returned, nodding firmly. He looked out over at the waves over Nickie’s shoulder for a moment, leaning back against the Bronco for support. “You know, if she was still here, she would have been the grandmother to never leave you alone. The kind to make sure that you left her house five pounds heavier than you came. She’d go to all your sports games and events. Hell, she probably would have driven your mom just a little crazy, sticking around so much.”

And for a moment, though he couldn’t believe it, Nickie was sympathizing with Rooster. He actually felt bad for the guy. Because for the three seconds that he put himself into Bradley’s shoes—losing his mom at sixteen—Nickie barely survived it without bursting into uncontrolled sobs.

He loved his mom. He’d do anything for his mom. He was a mama’s boy. And he couldn’t picture his life without his mom.

Coming out of the emotional fog, Rooster turned and opened the door to the Bronco, causing Nickie to pick his head up. Rifling around in the glove compartment, Rooster pulled out a simple gold chain. It was a necklace that his mom used to wear all the time that he kept close to him to remember her. And the simple ‘B’ that hung from the chain was still there all these years later.

“This was hers,” Rooster explained, holding it out to Nickie.

A bit cautious, Nickie walked over and slowly took the necklace from Rooster’s outstretched hand. Studying the chain, Nickie glanced down at the ‘B’ pendant before looking back up at Rooster, who seemed to be waiting expectantly for him to speak.

“Is the ‘B’ for Bradley?”

“It’s for Bradshaw,” Rooster replied softly, smiling a bit painfully. “My dad . . . your grandfather . . . he gave it to her when they first started dating.” Rooster shoved his hands into his pockets, just watching Nickie study the necklace for a moment. “Less than two years later, I was born.”

“My mom showed me the pictures of their wedding,” Nickie returned, rubbing the metal with his thumb. “I guess that young, unplanned pregnancies just run in my family.”

“Both sides,” Rooster agreed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Try to break that streak. Please.”

“Gramps already gave me the shovel talk about it about fifteen times over,” Nickie replied with a dash of amusement in his tone. “And my mom too.”

Running his thumb over the thin gold chain again, Nickie picked up his head and held out the necklace for Bradley to take back. But Bradley shook his head and held up a hand to stop him.

“Keep it.”

Nickie looked a bit taken aback for a moment before he glanced down at the chain in his hand. Slowly wrapping it around his wrist to keep it safe, Nickie turned back to Bradley.

“You know, we’re never going to have a relationship unless you make it up to my mom,” Nickie stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“I know. I understand that,” Rooster replied, nodding along to show that he understood. “I would have been the same way.” Rooster looked away for a moment before turning back to Nickie. “You know, I suggested it to your mom but . . . my mom left me some money. And I know that you’re going to college soon and everything—”

“—I don’t need it,” Nickie interjected, knowing where Bradley was going with it.

“College is expensive and I’m sure that you’re smart but—”

“—I don’t need it,” Nickie repeated, a bit more firmly.

“Are you not going to college?” Rooster asked, trying not to frown but failing anyways.

“No, I’m going to college,” Nickie sassed back, straightening up under Rooster’s frown. “I just don’t want to go to a . . . traditional college."

"Traditional . . ." Rooster trailed off, confused for a moment, before it finally clicked in his mind. Staring at Nickie incredulously, Rooster tried to put his words together despite his shock. “You . . . you want to be a . . . a naval aviator?”

“If they’ll take me,” Nickie replied, nodding firmly.

“Does your mom know?” Bradley asked, causing Nickie to grow a bit defensive.

“Yes.”

“Does Mav know?”

“. . . Yes,” Nickie lied straight through his teeth, causing Rooster to sigh and rub his face.

Well, Nickie got Cora’s inability to lie, that was for sure. He even shrugged his shoulders the same way that Cora did when she tried to lie.

Shifting his weight on his feet, Nickie turned back to Rooster with a slightly skittish appearance. That fear that he had carried around for months, ever since he decided that he really did want to go on and be a naval aviator, crept up again. And even though he talked it out with his mom, he hadn’t yet managed to find the courage to talk to his grandfather about it.

“Did he . . . did he really pull your papers?”

“Yeah, he did,” Bradley sighed, turning back to his son.

Nickie nodded and looked away, his shifting stature giving away how nervous he was feeling. Rooster took in Nickie’s anxiety and swallowed his pride and about sixteen years’ worth of resentment against Maverick before he cleared his throat. Nickie turned back to him, clearly apprehensive, but curious to hear what he had to say nonetheless.

“Mav told me that he regretted it. Of course, that doesn’t change what’s happened . . .” Rooster trailed off, letting a breath out from his nose. Nickie looked up at Rooster, waiting for him to finish his thought. “But it changes what’ll happen down the line.”

Nickie nodded slowly, looking down at the ground again. Staring at his grandmother’s necklace, Nickie turned back to Rooster. He straightened up, trying to look bigger, but he was really just a bean pole at his age, like Bradley was.

“When you get back . . . we can talk. After you apologize to my mom. And my grandfather too.”

Rooster nodded to show that he agreed with Nickie’s terms before Nickie slowly backed up and slipped into his car. Rooster watched Nickie drive off into the night before slowly slipping into his own car. Staring at the steering wheel for a moment, Rooster slowly lowered his head into his hands and let a few tears loose.

~~~~~

Nickie walked around back, having rolled into the driveway sneakily to avoid his mom or grandfather seeing him. Climbing up the side of the house, Nickie reached his window that he left cracked open. Pushing it up more, Nickie started to shimmy into his bedroom when he spotted his grandfather sitting on his bed with an unimpressed expression on his face.

“Hey, Gramps,” Nickie laughed off, trying to appear casual, though him stumbling in through his window definitely didn’t help that. “Just dropped something and thought that it was easier to go out the window than . . .” Nickie trailed off for a moment when he caught his grandfather’s expression. “Is there any excuse that I could use that you would believe?”

“Where did you go?” Maverick asked, getting to the point.

“Uh . . .”

“What’s on your wrist?” Maverick asked, pointing at Nickie’s left wrist.

“Nothing, just a—”

“—Is that Carole’s?” Maverick interjected, easily recognizing the piece of jewelry. Slowly turning to look up at Nickie, Maverick slowly stood up from his bed. “You went to see Bradley?”

“Yeah . . . I did,” Nickie agreed, nodding slowly, staring down at the necklace. “He gave it to me.”

“And . . . how did the rest of your talk go?” Maverick questioned, concerned.

“Well, I didn’t tell him to ‘fuck off’,” Nickie reported, causing Maverick to sigh. “We talked. Mostly about Carole, actually.”

“Bradley was a mama’s boy,” Maverick recounted, nodding sadly. “Not unlike you.”

Nickie nodded as well, staring down at the chain on his wrist for a moment. Slowly unclipping it, he unwrapped the necklace carefully. Nickie reached for the gum tin that he got from Ice and slowly opened it, setting the necklace inside with Goose’s dog tags and Ice’s wings. But the action only reminded him of the conversation he was trying to avoid with his grandfather.

“Your mom told me,” Maverick stated, causing Nickie to turn to him quickly. “Well, she didn’t fully tell me. I just asked her why she looked like she had been crying for a while and put the pieces together from there.”

“She doesn’t want me to go into the Navy,” Nickie replied softly.

“No, she doesn’t. But she doesn’t want to stand in the way of your dreams more,” Maverick returned without a second thought.

Nickie nodded and set the gum tin on his nightstand again. Maverick studied Nickie’s expression for a moment before looking over at the pictures that Nickie had hung up. The one of Goose and Carole caught his eye before he turned back to his grandson, the boy that he practically raised as his own son, as he had done with Nickie’s own father before him.

“And neither do I, Nickie.”

Nickie whipped around to face his grandfather, still a bit apprehensive, though there was that hope budding behind his brown eyes. Maverick managed a smile and nodded to show that he wasn’t lying, which caused Nickie to turn around completely.

“You’re not just saying that because you want me to feel better, right?”

“No, I’m not,” Maverick stated, a bit more firmly. “Though, I do want to be honest with you, Nickie.”

Maverick motioned for Nickie to sit down on the edge of his bed and the two Mitchells sat together for perhaps the final time. Maverick turned to Nickie with a serious expression.

“The whole process . . . it’s not sunshine and daises. And I’m sure that you have your eye on the Academy, and I don’t fault you for that. But I want you to prepare for the reality that politics plays a bigger role in the process than anyone wants to talk about. They kept me out of the Academy because of my dad. And, honestly, I’m worried that they’ll keep you out because of me.”

“I know,” Nickie replied quietly. “Ice warned me.”

“Of course, he did,” Maverick sighed, rubbing his chin.

“I looked into other options. If I can’t get into the Academy, I’ll just try NROTC or OCS. I could even stay in San Diego if I really wanted to do that,” Nickie stated, causing Maverick to nod. “And I mean, even if I can’t become an aviator, I’ll just do my time, get my college degree paid for, and figure it out from there. Maybe I’d become a civilian pilot like you tried to push me to do.”

“Well, you’re a Mitchell. Being in the sky . . . that’s your birth right one way or another,” Maverick stated, smiling a bit painfully. “But I am really glad that you thought through this a bit more. I didn’t want you to get stuck like . . . like Bradley.”

“Why did you pull his papers anyways?” Nickie asked softly, causing Maverick to pause. “I mean, you encouraged me to fly my whole life. Maybe not for the Navy, but you had me up in planes with you since as far back as I could remember. Why would you try and stop Bradley from doing that?”

“My decisions with Bradley . . . your dad . . . I made those decisions because I thought that I was doing the right thing. I thought that I was protecting the son of my best friends. But all I did was end up pushing him away and making him think that I didn’t believe in him at all.”

Maverick looked down at the ground for a moment, before turning back to Nickie.

“And, you know, part of me mixed up Bradley and Goose in my head. And I let what happened to Goose hold Bradley back. I didn’t want him to end up like Goose because I wouldn’t have survived that. But that wasn’t fair to Bradley.” Maverick rubbed his cheek slowly. “You know, they look so damn similar that I just acted on instinct alone.”

“Goose had strong genes,” Nickie remarked, causing Maverick to laugh.

“Yes, he does. He’d be very proud of himself for it too.” Letting out another chuckle and rubbing his chin, Maverick turned back to Nickie. “You know, if he was still here, he would have been bragging to me and anyone who would listen about which side of your family you looked more like. His side, of course. God, he would have held it over my head forever.”

Nickie nodded along and looked at the photo that he hung up on the wall. One of Goose and Carole from before they were even married. They couldn’t have been much older than he was now Nickie realized with a small smidge of dread.

“I wish I got to meet them,” Nickie spoke softly, causing Maverick to slowly tear up.

“Yeah, I wish that you did too, Nickie. Every single day,” Maverick breathed out, forcing a watery smile.

“When do you ship out?” Nickie asked, trying to change the subject to avoid his own tears.

“Tomorrow morning,” Maverick stated, causing Nickie to whip around to face him.

“Tomorrow?” Nickie breathed out, his stomach immediately knotting.

“Affirmative,” Maverick stated, trying to force a smile again. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

“I know,” Nickie stated softly, not looking entirely convinced.

Slowly, Maverick pulled Nickie in for a tight hug. Nickie returned the hug and tucked his chin against his grandfather’s shoulder. Maverick patted his curled fist against Nickie’s back, forcing himself to not give away the fact that he felt in his gut that this would be the last night that he saw his grandson. Taking a breath, Maverick released Nickie.

“Come on. Let’s join your mom downstairs.”

A.N. Final “main” part will be out either Wednesday or Thursday. And then the epilogue maybe sometime next week.

If you like AUs, don’t forget to vote on the poll that I made last week!

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Epilogue