#please clap i spent almost an hour making this

[sarahshoots1st]

Various Stormlight characters represented by random images I've found on the internet:

Kaladin:

Shallan:

Dalinar:

Adolin:

Jasnah:

Elhokar:

Eshonai:

Leshwi:

Moash:

Wit:

[lilywastaken]

⇝ together .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART THREE OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: A month after his return, you start warming up to Simon, only for him to ruin it.

WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!), Fluff for once, Angst, mild nsfw, mentions of child abuse and abuse in general, canon typical violence, choking (not in a sexy way).

A/N: Finally finished!! I'm so sorry I haven't been able to get this out sooner, these past weeks have just been chocked full of assignments I had to finish 😭 I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations!!! Please don't forget to reblog and leave a comment, it helps a lot!!

WORD COUNT: 9.2k

MASTERLIST.

If you want to be tagged on future works, please follow and activate notifications on this account! — @lilynottaken !

Also on Ao3!

"'m blaming this on you."

You grumbled to Simon as you watched your son clap his hands against his father's, happy coos and gurgles leaving him.

"What?" He turned away from Tommy to look at you with a confused look, well, you assumed it was confused by the way his eyes were squinted. "How is this my fault?"

"He's copying you." You yawned, curling into the foetal position and pulling up the blanket over your body, head almost rolling off the sofa as you continued to pay attention to your son and his father's every movement. "You don't sleep so he doesn't."

"Not sure that's how his brain works yet." You could hear the amusement in his words, rolling your eyes as you switched your gaze from them up to the telly, that was playing some football game Simon had put on a few hours ago. "Think he's just not tired."

You know you should've expected this, Tommy's doctor had warned you at the last appointment when he'd gotten his first shots that he might experience some type of sleep regression, which meant more hours of staying awake while watching your son. And maybe it would've been worse for you if Simon wasn't there experiencing the same stress as you were. Weirdly, it felt nice to have another person in the same boat as you, even if he didn't really seem that keen on needing to sleep like you did.

Tommy seemed to had taken a liking to his father ever since the first day they'd both met, but that was kind of a given after Simon had spent the whole month after that coming over almost every single day (except for the days where he'd warned you before time that he'd be gone for work) and spending it all with his son.

You kind of hoped that Tommy had started to recognise him as a father like he did with you as a mother, since he was at the age where he was able to recognise caregivers; but even if he didn't, he did still cling onto Simon's hand every time it was time for him to leave like he did to you, tears bordering at his glassy eyes when you stood at the door with him in your arms waving goodbye to Simon.

You almost started crying every time he'd start making grabby hands at Simon, who'd rest his face against his son's tummy and let his chubby hands pull at the cloth of his balaclava, sometimes even pulling it up over his lips so he could press a quick kiss to his cheek, hiding his face immediately once you came in, unknowing that you'd been watching them before.

It wasn't like the bad blood that you had with Simon had magically been solved, you were still sometimes on edge or a bit snappy at him when it came to Tommy or your "relationship" with him, but you weren't as furious with him as you were when he first showed up.

"Not interestin' enough for you, am I?" Simon grunted as Tommy's attention drifted from the clapping to the telly above him, eyes wide as the presenter talked about some red card.

"You've bored him." You snickered, outstretching an arm to click your fingers, the sound immediately catching your son's attention. "Hi, duck!"

"He's not a bloody cat." Simon grumbled, picking up Tommy carefully from his spot on the blanket you'd draped on the floor for him to lie on, moving him onto your chest so he could cuddle into you.

You were about to snap back when Tommy interrupted you both with a wide yawn, chubby hands clinging onto your sleep shirt and eyes threatening to droop closed, although they were still stuck to the image of the footballers running across the field on the TV.

Both of you froze, Simon having been mid way to getting a toy he'd dropped not so long ago so he was stuck in that position, eyes wide and staring at his suddenly sleepy son.

You placed a soft hand on his back, pressing him further into your chest so the sound of your heartbeat would lull him to sleep easier.

But as luck would have it, a goal was scored right at the moment where his eyes finally fully closed, the commentators shouting out excitement and forcing your son back awake with a cry.

Simon and you groaned in unison, the man finally picking up the toy and collapsing on the ground, lying on his back right next to the sofa and glaring up at the ceiling, listening to you try and calm your son down from his abrupt awakening.

"Who scored?" You grumbled, masking your annoyance with interest.

"Not Manchester." Simon grunted back, raising a hand to take Tommy's, his fingers brushing against your chest in the process. "Haven't had a bloody win in a while."

"Sorry." You mumbled, remembering the disappointment that had shone in his eyes when you'd told him about some of the losses of the teams he liked he'd asked you to take a note of while he was away for work.

He'd done well at keeping his promise, sending you messages every time he had to leave, no longer disappearing without a trace, even if it was just a single day of paperwork or a check up at base. He sometimes also sent you pictures, whether it was him in his car showing you that he was close to your flat in case you weren't prepared for him or the takeaway menu at your favourite fast food place, asking for your order. They were always dark and a bit out of focus, but you couldn't deny that you hadn't let out a laugh when you'd seen the failed attempt of him trying to get out of frame, his skulled balaclava peeking out from a corner of the picture.

He'd been gone for a week this time, which explained why he was being so clingy towards Tommy ever since he'd arrived, takeout in hand and arms itching to wrap around his son, and had spent the whole last hour catching up with the both of you.

"Are you sleeping here tonight?" You yawned, closing your eyes for a moment and trying to ignore the squirming boy on your chest, his hands digging uncomfortably into your clavicle.

"Yeah. Though I probably won't be doing much sleepin'." He rumbled, letting Tommy wrap one of his chubby hands around one of Simon's big fingers. "Y'know I can just take over. Go get some rest."

You bit the inside of your cheek at that, looking away despite still having your eyes partly closed, your grip unintentionally tightening around Tommy's small body.

You were still put on edge whenever you left Tommy alone with Simon, even though he'd shown no ill towards you in any way, you just couldn't help it, the thought that something might happen to your sweet boy when he wasn't under your supervision was enough to strike an unexplainable fear into you. You knew that he'd noticed how your face turned sour whenever it was mentioned, but he hadn't ceased asking completely, knowing that sooner or later you'd have to entrust him with your son like you'd both agreed.

"Is that okay…?" You whispered, your voice barely audible over the cheers and cries of excitement from the telly, but by the way he turned his head towards you and squeezed Tommy's hand, you knew he heard you.

"Yeah. Don' worry. You need some rest."

You both stayed put for a few seconds, your hands slowly falling from their place on your son's back and scooping him up carefully before pushing yourself off the sofa, forcing Tommy's hand out of Simon's in the process.

You watched carefully as he shifted off the floor to sit next to you on the sofa, his built arms moving to cradle his son in their crook, rocking him slowly as you got up, anxiously fidgeting with your fingers as you stood and watched them both for a moment, almost terrified of taking a step out of their vicinity.

"Go." Simon commanded, getting comfy on the sofa as he turned his attention back to the game playing on the telly, the assertive tone that his voice took enough to send shivers running down your spine, nodding your head out of instinct before scurrying away like one of the rookies Simon was oh-so used to ordering around back at base.

After having a well deserved shower and pulling on some of your cosiest pyjamas, you let your body collapse onto your bed, curling into the middle where the mattress dipped and covering yourself up with your countless amount of blankets due to the chill that had overcome the country after a few rare weeks of warmth.

You smiled as you remembered how happy Tommy had looked when you'd taken him out in his stroller and let him bask in the sunlight for a bit while sitting next to him at the park, trying your best to focus on his giggles and not on the shadowy figure of his father standing behind you, more like a bodyguard waiting to take out any threats to you both instead of the father he claimed to want to be.

You let out a huff at the memory of how cautious Simon had been at first around you both, almost like a stray cat getting used to their new family: always standing around you but never too close, bringing you small gifts (i.e. takeout or groceries he thought you'd need or Tommy's new favourite teddy bear he now slept with instead of his duck), slowly making your home his own unconsciously by leaving some of his clothes packed away in a small corner of your wardrobe or packing the fridge with some of how own personal food items.

You'd noticed, of course. How could you not?

At first, when you'd found some of his clothes in the midst of the batch of laundry you were tending to, you were struck with fear. Fear that everything you'd worked hard to build was going to be invaded by this barely known presence you were just starting to get used to, but as time went on, you realised there was nothing scary about it.

It was oddly comforting, in a way. It made you feel less alone when you spotted the extra toothbrush he'd plopped in the glass next to yours, the mug he'd brought over after he'd exclaimed his concern that all of yours were fit for coffee and not for tea or the hoodies he left lying around that Tommy loved curling into whether Simon was wearing it or not.

You pulled a pillow into your arms, simulating the feeling of your son in your arms you'd gotten so used to in order to fall asleep, closing your eyes and letting the muffled sounds of the football game still playing on the TV and your son's faint giggles lull you slowly to your first proper sleep in a while.

You were pulled awake by the sound of your phone going off, your whole body jerking up and rushing to grab it out of instinct, the bright screen illuminating your room and forcing a groan out of you at the disturbance, letting your eyes focus until you were able to properly read the notification.

A frustrated sound left your lips at the message from one of the dating apps you'd forgotten you had informing you that you'd matched with someone, angered that it had been something so stupid that had woken you up from one of the best sleeps you'd had in a long time and not something important.

You fell back down onto the mattress, planning on closing your eyes and curling back into the pillow you'd been spooning moments before, but as your body slowly calmed down from the initial shock that had filled it, you were met with nothing but silence.

Your eyes had adjusted enough at this point that you were able to turn your head over to your door, frowning at the lack of light that normally came from under the door when the living room was lit, raising your head from the pillow slightly in an attempt to catch out any sounds that might be originating from anywhere in your flat.

But once again, silence continued to rule over your home.

You could've just closed your eyes and willed yourself to fall back asleep, but the creeping feeling that it was too quiet for how it normally was, that something might have happened in the few hours you'd let yourself rest was slowly burrowing itself in your mind.

And fuck, what if Simon had done something? What I'd you'd misjudged him? What if he'd taken advantage of your tired state and just fucked off with your son in his arms, leaving you broken and abandoned once again?

The fear that struck your body at that train of thought was enough to wake you up properly, allowing your body to act like it had just consumed countless amounts of caffeine and rush over to the partly open door, slowly pushing it open before looking around frantically, eyes landing on the back of the sofa and on the turned off TV in front of it.

Your hand landed on the headrest, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes landed on Simon's sleeping body, his arms protectively wrapped around Tommy, who was resting on his chest like he'd been with you before you'd gone to rest.

You made it fully around until you were standing in front of the sofa, one of your hands coming up to grab at your thin sleep shirt right over the place your heart was currently hammering against out of relief.

Fuck…

Of course he hadn't left.

You were just being paranoid.

Simon had shown you no ill will the whole time he'd been here, but you were still on edge, assuming the worst from him…

A staggered breath left your lips, your hands coming up to cover your face as you willed your body to calm down, your legs trembling as the adrenaline that had rushed through you momentarily started to fade, leaving you confused and exhausted.

One of your legs threatened to give out, and as soon as you were getting ready to collapse, a warm hand grabbed at your thigh, a silent scream threatening to leave you until you realised who it belonged to, staring down with wide eyes at your son's father, one of the hands that had been cradling Tommy now holding your leg with the same care.

"What happened?!"

You could see the panic in his eyes despite the darkness that enveloped the room, his thumb slowly rubbing up and down your skin, his best attempt at soothing whatever pain you were harbouring that he had no idea about.

He called your name, pulling you closer to the sofa so you were kneeling on the free space of the plush sofa, staring down at Simon's chest and raising one of your hands up to your son's little head, running through his thin hair.

"What happened?" He repeated, more assertive this time rather than the panicked tone he had taken before, his hand moving from the back of your thigh up to your waist, almost like it was natural to do so.

"Nothing…" you finally let out, blinking away some of the tears you hadn't realised that had formed at your waterline. "Just… Uhm…"

"...Nightmare?" He offered an easier excuse than the real reason you'd pulled yourself out of bed at such an hour, slowly nodding your head in agreement and causing him to let out a sigh. "Do you-"

"I'm okay. Just… shaken up." By the way you were anxiously running your fingers through Tommy's hair as if to assure yourself that he was real, that he was indeed lying there asleep (something you hadn't realised up until that moment, Simon had somehow actually gotten Tommy to take a nap.), he assumed that whatever nightmare you'd had was related to him. "Needed to check that he was okay."

Yeah, that cemented it.

Simon would be lying if he said he hadn't a few nightmares of his own about Tommy ever since he'd met him properly, whether it was him forcibly being taken away from you by one of the many enemies he'd made across his life or a freak accident ending any hopes he'd had of all of you being a family.

And maybe they were a bit out of pocket, he'd made it very hard for anyone to trace you or Tommy back to him by always parking his car a few blocks away, making sure that Tommy had your last name instead of his and that the military had no idea about his offspring.

He couldn't have any records that would link you two to him, he couldn't even risk taking that chance, he knew that as soon as two of his weaknesses were revealed, it would only be a matter of time for them to be exploited by his enemies.

So, he understood. He understood the fear that came with a nightmare about your son, the need to see him and reinforce the fact that he was okay in your head.

"He is. Tired 'imself out a few hours ago." He moved towards the back of the sofa, allowing you space to sit next to them both, his hand still continuing to rest on your warm skin and pulling you along carefully, ready to pull away the moment you showed any signs of uncomfort.

"How come he sleeps for you?" You mumbled, more of a thought to yourself rather than something you wanted to share, but it caused Simon to smile beneath his mask nonetheless, raising his other hand up to Tommy's head to run a finger down his little nose, ignoring the way his heart rate spiked when it brushed against yours.

He thought about making a joke about being his favourite, hoping that it would brighten the mood a bit, but then remembered the look of dismay that would come over his teammates' faces whenever he made one about anything, and on second thought, maybe he'd have to wait a bit until you were both comfortable enough to enjoy his stupid jokes.

"Guess he's bored of me. You're much more entertainin' to be awake around." He rumbled, a soft chuckle leaving your lips at what you assumed was an attempt to lift your spirits.

"Yeah…" you smiled, leaning your body on the arm that was propping you up, your hand ceasing its brushing of Tommy's hair and simply resting on his small head, your heart growing bigger as he let out a little coo, snuggling further into Simon's hoodie.

You hadn't even been thinking about the hand cupping your waist, too focused on your son's sleeping figure and the warmth that it brought you, unconsciously wriggling a bit further into the touch, but you froze once Simon's hand immediately snapped back from you, as if he'd taken that as an immediate sign that he had broken a few boundaries by getting too close.

"Sorry."

You bit on your tongue, not wanting to full admit how much reassurance his touch had brought you and how much you'd give to have it back (you blamed the neediness on how exhausted your body was and the delirium that came with the lack of sleep you'd been subject to recently), not making any move to answer and instead focusing fully on your son.

"You want to take him?" Simon offered, leaning further up the sofa so he was kind of sitting, kind of lying on the arm rest. "Don' kids sleep better with their mams?"

"I… I think that may be a myth." You breathed out a chuckle, shaking your head as he made a move to hand Tommy over to you. "No, it's okay. I move a lot at night, I don't - I don't want to hurt him, you know?"

Simon turned down to the fragile little human he was holding, remembering the exact moment he'd realised that you were both in charge of taking care of him, of keeping him out of danger and stopping anyone and anything from shattering the little being that seemed to be made of glass.

"That's fine."

Silence fell over the both of you, an awkward atmosphere forming as you didn't move, feeling as time went on that you were invading the little personal space he was allowed to have in your flat.

"D'you want to stay?"

What?

Your brain short-circuited, blinking at him owlishly, as if he'd just spoken in an unknown language, the words still processing in your mind.

"Stay?" You managed out, looking down at the space between you both, a space where you could easily fit into if you were to snuggle into his side and let him hold you.

But surely, he wasn't suggesting that.

Memories of how he'd held you that fateful night flooded your mind, his warm calloused hands sprawled out against the bare skin of your waist, the sound of his heartbeat drumming against his ribcage lulling you to sleep…

"Yeah, stay."

…It made you want to accept.

Made you want to melt into his side and wrap an arm around his wide chest, tangle your fingers in your son's soft hair and lie there with them both, making sure that no harm could come to Tommy thanks to the protective shadow that was Simon Riley.

But you couldn't. You knew that.

The walls you'd built while carrying Tommy in hopes that you'd never be hurt or abandoned again, the walls that had kept you relatively safe within the expanse of your mind refused to crumble, refused to make way for the man that had come barreling back into your life and threatened to destroy them.

You couldn't risk it.

So, you didn't.

You pulled your hand away from your son as if he burned, cradling it against your chest and looking away from Simon's imposing stare, the look in his eyes making you want to squirm and cry and adhere to anything he wanted.

"No." If you'd still been looking at him, you would have noticed the way his shoulders slumped, the way the dim light in his eyes proceeded to disappear at the single word that left your mouth. "Thanks."

It seemed every little step of progress you'd both taken together the whole month immediately dissipated away thanks to his idiotic question.

Of course you'd fucking refuse his stupid invitation, what was he thinking? That you were both a happy couple who didn't pass on any chance to hold each other in your arms? That he was your husband, the proper father of your son who you loved and cared for, who you enjoyed having pressed right against you? He was a fucking idiot. He couldn't contain himself for once in his life and he'd gone and ruined everything.

"Okay." Despite the inner turmoil that raged inside of him, that simple word of affirmation was all he could get out, and he hoped to whatever god was up there (that apparently loved torturing him) that you'd both wake up the next day without a single recollection of what had happened last night.

"Good night." You whispered, pushing yourself off the sofa and wrapping your arms around your chest, immediately regretting every single one of your actions that night as you gazed upon how truly comfy and warm Simon and your son looked snuggled together, wishing that you had the emotional capability to let your resentment go and indulge in Simon's touch.

"'Night."

You willed yourself to take the first step back, tearing your gaze away from them and heading back to your bedroom, your face erupting into warmth out of a mixture of embarrassment and sadness, a clear sign that your body wanted nothing more than to just burst into tears and let Simon wrap you up in his arms and soothe you down like you knew he could.

You buried your face into your pillow as soon as you made it back into your now-cold mess of sheets, tugging one of the pillows back into your arms and doing your best to imagine that it was someone else, someone else who was as willing as you'd imagined Simon had been before to have you in their arms, to stroke your hair and calm you down because they loved you, because they cared about you and wanted nothing more than to see you as happy as you'd been a mere few hours ago.

You passed out soon enough, a few tears running down your cheeks as you subconsciously wrapped yourself around the pillow like a koala, the tear stains quickly disappearing during the night and lacking any evidence that they were once there when Simon walked through your door in the early morning, standing at the side of your bed for a few moments before he leaned over, pulling up the covers and tucking them around your sleeping body.

The sound of the shower coming alive and the pipes groaning was the thing that pulled you awake, struggling a few moments to rid yourself of the covers that pushed onto you, wondering to yourself when and how you'd tucked yourself in so aggressively, turning your head towards your bathroom and listening to the clinking of shampoo bottles and the water as it hit the tiled walls.

Your bathroom was unfortunately directly connected to your bedroom, so in order to get into the shower, Simon would have had to pass by your bed and… tuck you in? Did he really tuck you in?

You pulled languidly at the covers, looking down at your nightwear and growing warm as you saw how transparent your shirt looked in the morning light, leaving almost nothing to the imagination of whoever were to look down at your chest.

Simon had seen you like that.

You squeezed your eyes closed out of embarrassment, as if he was right there judging you with his stupid thousand yard stare, lifting yourself off the mattress and looking around your wardrobe for a shirt, restoring to a band one you'd stolen from one of your ex boyfriends you'd never had the heart to throw out.

You were mid straightening it out, your previous night shirt now pooling at your feet, when the door to the bathroom opened, your immediate response being to wrap your arms around your chest and let out a cry of warning, turning around so he was facing your back.

"Fuckin'-"

"Go back in!" You cried out, wanting nothing more than for the earth to burst open and swallow you whole, feeling too tired to be dealing with this kind of embarrassment at such an early hour of the morning.

You cracked an eye open as the door closed, letting the grip you'd had on the shirt go as you faintly heard Simon curse, trying to erase the memory of what had happened out of your brain.

As you pulled on the shirt, you willed yourself to think about anything other than the glimpse of flesh you'd seen before turning around, the wide chest that had been littered with the scars he'd once let you trace over, the towel around his waist that had barely cov-

Stop!

Unknown to you, Simon was having a similar dispute with himself from inside the bathroom, resting his flushed face on the cool tiles of the wall as he listened to you shuffle around your room, cursing himself out for being so goddamn stupid and exiting the bathroom without even checking if you were awake or not.

That wasn't the only reason he should've checked, he thought you'd still be asleep, so stupidly, he'd gone out with barely any coverings, including the one on his face, so he was pretty sure you would've seen the way his eyes almost immediately darted down towards your chest if you hadn't been busy enough with covering yourself and ogling at his chest.

"Fuck…" he breathed out, running his fingers through his hair and looking at himself in the foggy mirror, the tired, broken stare of a being he could barely consider a man staring back at him.

After a few more moments of staring at himself he couldn't bear it anymore, grabbing his discarded balaclava and pulling it over his what he considered broken face, his other clothes continuing as he did his best to cover every single patch of skin he could, hand landing on the doorknob once he was finished and asking for confirmation.

You'd about finished putting on the shirt when he'd piped up from inside, letting out a small "you can." before he opened the door again, face now covered and eyes darting down at the oversized shirt you'd pulled over your bottoms, closing it behind him.

"Didn't know you'd be changin'." He grumbled, his way of apologising without saying the exact words, eyes scanning the band on your shirt. "Y'like Joy Division?"

"Huh?" You looked down at the shirt, straightening it out to properly look at the band you'd forgotten was plastered on the front, shrugging slightly. "Yeah, they're good. I'm, uh, not the biggest fan. This was my boyfriend's."

"Boyfriend?" He spat out, almost with malice.

"Ex." You clarified, pulling at the ends of your shirt out of nerves, the way he was staring down at you reminiscent of how you'd assume higher ups looked down at their soldiers when they were in the wrong.

"Right." He grunted, looking away from you and training his stare at the bedroom door, nodding towards it. "'M gonna go check on Tom."

He brushed past you, leaving you standing in the middle of your bedroom twiddling your thumbs, confused and embarrassed due to the interaction you'd just shared.

You walked into the kitchen, stopping in your tracks when you noted that the dishes you'd left last night after Simon had brought take away had been cleaned right up, the plastic bowls from the curry thrown away in the recycling along with the other trash you'd used when making Tommy formula (you resorted to using that instead of pumping or breastfeeding when Simon was over).

God, now you felt even worse for what had happened last night.

You rubbed your hands all over your face, digging your nails into your scalp as you ran them through your hair, snapping your head up as your heard your son giggle, going back a few steps to look through the crack of the door, your chest tightening as you watched Simon feed Tommy, murmuring a string of words you were too far away to understand.

Fuck, you really felt awful.

You pulled out a few ingredients, acting almost on autopilot as you fried the sausages and toasted the bread, making his tea subconsciously the way you know he liked it (he'd never forced you to make tea, you'd seen the sticker on a takeaway cup he'd left on the counter), and pouring it into the cup he always used.

"You didn't have to." Simon mumbled as he walked out of the nursery, holding the empty bottle of milk in one hand and a plastic bag with a dirty nappy in the other, looking down at the plate of food you'd made him.

"I wanted to." You mumbled, taking a bite out of your own buttered toast as you watched him walk around the kitchen, throwing away the bag and cleaning out the bottle before starting on his breakfast, standing at the island instead of sitting like you were. "As thanks. For, uhm, cleaning up."

"It was nothin' deserving of this." He mumbled underneath his breath, shoving a spoonful of the baked beans into his mouth, now visible thanks to him pulling up his balaclava, the taste of the normal breakfast he'd have at whatever café he normally went to complete shit compared to yours.

"It's fine. I went a little overboard, it's been a while since I've cooked for someone."

He let out an amused huff, nodding his head. "Yeah, babies don' really need a full brekkie."

You both went silent after that, your eyes looking around at everything but at him, secretly hoping that he was enjoying the food, wishing you would've put on the radio or the news so you weren't sitting in complete silence.

The tapping of his fingers against the counter finally pulled your gaze towards him, watching him carefully as you continued to eat.

"Laswell called."

Laswell?

The face you made must've made him realise you had no idea who he was talking about, his hand coming up to grab the mug of tea and take a long sip before speaking again.

"Station Chief Laswell." You nodded along, hoping that he'd believe that you actually knew what he was saying. "She's got a mission f'us."

Oh.

"When?" You spoke out, a bit choked up as you tried your best to focus on the food instead, you always got unexplainably nervous when he left for a mission, despite the fact that he always came back.

"Gotta be there by 1."

You turned to look at the time on the microwave, the 09:00 displayed there striking unexplainable fear in you.

"You should get going, then."

"I should."

Neither one of you moved.

"Did you say goodbye to Tommy?"

"I did." He took a final sip of his tea, placing the cup down and turning to look at the nursery, the strangling pain he felt every time he left you coming back to haunt him. "Changed his nappy too. Like y'taught me."

You smiled at the memory. A few days after he'd first shown up you'd tried your best to teach him how to change Tommy and you'd gone through almost 10 nappies by the time he'd been able to put one decent enough (you'd quickly changed it yourself after he'd turned around, you didn't want the nappy to cut off your baby's circulation), so you hoped that he'd actually done it properly this time.

"Thank you…" You offered him a small smile, looking down at your own cuppa, wrapping your arms around the now lukewarm mug. "Go get ready. I'll clean up."

Simon really didn't want to, he wanted to continue standing there talking to you, gazing at your tired face and how cute you looked taking small bites out of the food you'd made that you'd undoubtedly wouldn't finish and would slide over to him like you'd done all those times before.

But he couldn't. He was a soldier. One that was trained to kill and follow orders no matter what and no matter the circumstance, one that would be laughed at if he called in saying he wanted to stay with- well, whatever you were to him.

He was about to zip up the duffle bag he'd left in your room during his small stay when he caught a glimpse of something he'd forgotten about.

The gun was relatively light in his hand, one that was smaller than the ones he was used to carrying out in the field, but could quickly figure out how to use in the span of a millisecond.

He called out your name, rapping his knuckles against the counter to catch your attention, raising his arms in surrender as fear filled your face, dropping the plate into the sink and taking a step back as soon as you caught sight of the gun.

"Simon! What the fu-"

"It's not loaded." His other hand waved around the magazine, placing them both down on the island in front of you both. "I'm not going to use it."

"I would fucking hope so!" You cried out, wiping off the soap suds on a towel and pressing your back into the counter, gripping the edge of it as if he was really threatening you with the gun.

"Do you know how to shoot one?"

You shook your head. You'd never even seen one this close apart from the rare policemen that carried one, let alone held one.

"Come." He picked them two items up, walking back into your room and waiting for you at the door to follow, worried about what he was planning on doing. "Where would you keep a gun?"

You turned to him with a raised eyebrow, once again expressing your confusion with a single stare before turning to the bedside table closest to the side you normally slept in, pulling the drawer out and immediately growing warm as you gazed down at the string of condoms along with some other items.

"Here, I suppose…" You watched him sit down on the bed, the mattress immediately sinking beneath his weight as he raised the gun and magazine up into your line of view.

"Take it."

You shakily did as he said, the gun feeling heavy in your palms in contrast to how easy it had felt for Simon, turning it around a few times as he continued to speak, pointing out every single detail and part of what he had soon let you know was a Glock.

"It's the one most policemen carry. Not very heavy, but still capable of takin' down a man." He murmured, almost letting out a chuckle as he took the gun and cocked it, making you jump at the sudden sound.

"Why would I want to take down a man?" You asked tentatively, taking it back from him and trying to fit in the magazine like he'd instructed you to.

A warm hand came up to cover yours, stopping you in your tracks and allowing him to get up and take the firearm from you, pulling out the magazine and placing them both in the drawer, trying his best to ignore the other items that were scattered around.

"Listen to me." He turned his head as he slammed the drawer shut, staring directly into your eyes to make sure that you were paying attention. "I cannot ensure your safety while I'm gone. There's tons of fucked up people who'd take whatever change to tear me down and would not think twice about using you or Tommy to do so. This is just in case. You only use this if you or Tommy are in imminent danger. If there is someone threatening any of you, you do not hesitate, you take the gun and use it."

Use it.

Use it!?

His hand came up to cup at your cheek, pulling you out of your swarming thoughts so he could be sure you were listening.

"I- Simon, I can't- I'll go to jail if I use it, I can't-"

"You won't." He interrupted, shaking his head. "I won't let them. You're under my protection, this is just in case of emergency when I'm not around."

You nodded, not knowing what else to do, the gun that had been in your hands mere moments ago feeling like a burden despite it being locked away.

"Oi. Lovie, look at me."

That immediately caught your attention.

"Tell me you understand."

Your mouth had gone dry, the combination of the shock behind his little surprise and the nickname that had slipped out of his mouth proving to be too much to handle.

"Tell me. You understand."

You took a deep breath, nodding your head. "I understand, Simon."

Even after he'd left, you couldn't shake yourself off that foreboding feeling, terrified that the moment where you'd have to use the gun would arrive sometime soon, the thought of you or Tommy coming into danger while Simon wasn't around enough to make you want to crumble into tiny pieces.

You'd stood by the door like you always did, although this time Tommy was fast asleep in his crib and your arms were empty, leaving you to say goodbye to Simon (although looking up into his eyes, you knew he wasn't Simon anymore) all by yourself.

"When d'you think you'll be back?" You whispered as he opened the door, not wanting to disturb any of the neighbours that might be loitering around (despite knowing that news about the terrifying man that resided in your apartment had travelled quick after he'd threatened your neighbour), handing him his jacket.

"A week, tops. I'll send you a text as soon as I know." He grunted, shoving on his jacket before pulling up his duffle bag, swinging it over his shoulder. "You need anythin', you call base, okay? They'll relay the message if it's necessary."

He'd given you the number to his base a few weeks ago, but you knew you'd never have the heart to call it, too embarrassed that the little problem you were currently having was nothing compared to what Simon was going through, and you didn't want to disturb any of his work if it really wasn't that important.

"Sent you money this morning. You got enough for a month." He went through his mental list of everything he should say to you before going, leaning against the door frame and looking down at you through heavy eyelids. "Get some takeout, don't strain yourself any more than you already are. Doctor said you should take it easy."

You dismissed the urge to roll your eyes, cursing yourself out for even allowing him to take you to the doctor in the first place and listen in.

"I know. I'll be fine, Simon. You just worry about yourself."

"Always do." He said, nodding his head as a form of goodbye before pushing himself off the doorframe, heading towards the elevator and leaving you standing there, only closing the door when you heard the front door close from all the way downstairs.

— I think he misses you.

— Won't let go of the teddy bear even though it's all dirty :(.

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

God, if Simon wasn't wearing his mask he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to contain his smile, zooming into the picture you'd sent him of your small boy lying in your bed fast asleep cuddling the little plushie he'd gifted him.

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

— More.

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

He hoped you understood what you meant by that, and by the way a few more pictures loaded in within seconds, he was glad you did.

He had to print some of those.

He'd once made a joke about one of the soldiers who wore a picture of their beloved in a small locket to Soap, commenting how it reminded him of the soldiers in WWI, when they were really just on their way to disarm a bomb.

But now he felt the need to have some type picture of you both or trinket that you'd given him right in the pocket over his heart, one that he could easily pull out in the middle of a mission to remind himself of why he was doing this, of why he couldn't let himself get caught by the enemy, of why he always had to come back to you.

He couldn't even bear the thought of his dog tags arriving at your doorstep instead of him one fateful day.

"Your nephew?"

Ghost snapped his head up, meeting the curious gaze of his captain and the bright orange tip of his cigar. "What?"

"Your nephew." Price gestured towards his lieutenant's phone, where the picture of Tommy drooling around one of his toys was still displayed. "You told me about him once at that bar in Vienna. What's his name?"

"Joseph." Ghost answered, shaking his head. "No, he's… Not a baby anymore. Must be a bloody teenager by now."

Price hummed, taking another puff from his cigar before looking away, squinting his eyes from the sun, wishing he'd been as smart as Ghost by bringing a pair of sunglasses.

"So."

"So?"

"Who's he, then?" Once again, the captain looked down at the dimly lit picture, where he could barely make out the features of the little boy, but by the onesie and plushie, he was able to decipher the not so difficult puzzle.

"He's…" Ghost trailed off, taking one last look at the picture before turning off his phone, sliding it into one of his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest. "No-one."

"No-one?" Price huffed out, amused. "So you just have pictures of random babies on your phone, is that it, Lieutenant?"

Ghost flared up at his captain, the frown obscured by the sunglasses he'd put on after the clouds had dispersed, but by the way his body had tensed, Price could only assume he'd pissed him off.

"Name's Tommy. That's all you're getting." He grunted out, looking away from the older man like a child admitting to something embarrassing.

"Like your brother?" Price commented, letting out a groan before sitting down on the wall next to Ghost. "Isn't that a coincidence?"

"No, she didn' know when she named-" Ghost stopped himself from saying anything further, the slip of the tongue already having revealed the existence of a 'she', and he did not want to say any more.

"'She'?" Price grinned, blowing out some of the smoke before bringing his cigar up to his lips. "Come on, Simon. We're not on duty, are we? Not your captain right now."

He'd promised himself to keep quiet. He couldn't have anyone find out about you or Tommy, he couldn't risk having that information out in the open, his weakness out there for everyone to know.

But Price… Well, Price was different. He'd saved him multiple times across the span of time he'd spent working for the army, he'd been the one to pull him out of the deepest of holes, the one to trust him enough to allow him to join the 141.

They trusted each other.

"She's… I don't know." He let his head cock back, looking up at the forming clouds. "I knocked her up."

"Fuckin' hell, Simon." Price breathed out along with some smoke, turning to look at him with a sort of horrified and disappointed stare. "You're a dad?"

"Yeah."

"Christ, you're makin' me feel fucking old." He grumbled, taking the phone from Ghost as he handed it over, squinting at the dimly lit screen. "Cute little bugger, isn't he?"

Ghost smiled beneath his mask, watching Price scroll through the countless pictures you'd sent him across the month he'd been back, resisting the embarrassing urge to point out small details of every picture like an art major in a museum, instead keeping quiet and itching slowly to grab his phone back.

"Think you're a good dad?" Price asked, taking Ghost back a bit as he slid his phone back into the confines of his pocket, shrugging his shoulders as he squinted at two figures in the distance.

"Not the worst. Don't think he's got the mental capability to recognise if I'm good or bad to 'im. Least he doesn't cry every time he sees me." He breathed out a chuckle, snapping his mouth shut as he saw Soap and Gaz approach, the conversation sizzling away as they plopped down next to them both.

As the others started talking about another topic, Ghost thought about the question he'd been asked before more in-depth.

He wasn't a bad father, right?

He wasn't like… that.

Simon would be caught dead before even thinking of inflicting onto Tommy the same pain his own father had inflicted onto his family.

Imagining his small boy going through the same trauma, the same horror, the same fear he'd felt during his childhood was enough to tear his cold heart apart.

And he'd never treat you like his father had treated his mother, he'd never subdue you to the same pain she went through every day, he wouldn't let himself fall into the circle of abuse that had started way before his own father.

And Simon wasn't perfect. He knew that.

But he wouldn't stoop as low as his father had during the beginning of his life, where instead of the love and care a child was supposed to receive from his parents, he received the abuse and pain that no one deserved.

Just like him.

He closed his eyes as he remembered the burning shouts as his father berated him, always comparing the both of them and forcing Simon into tears, the mere thought of ending up as horrible as his father reducing him to sobs.

Even now, he still felt sick when he'd stare at the pictures of his father his mother still kept around her room in the nursing home, horrified whenever she'd point out their similar eyes and same blond hair.

But he wouldn't end like that. Despite whatever physical similarity he shared with his father, they had nothing in common personality wise.

Simon wasn't a monster.

He wouldn't hurt you or Tommy.

He wouldn't let anyone hurt you or Tommy.

He was a protector, a soldier trained to serve his country and the civilians who resided within it.

And he would protect. No matter what.

"S'alright, lovie… Jus' me."

"Simon…" You breathed out, letting your eyes flutter closed as his hands roamed the exposed skin of your chest, broken lips pressing kisses the whole way up to your jaw.

"That's it… Such a good girl f'me… Pretty, pretty girl." His warm hands cupped at your chest, pulling another whine out of you as he toyed with your breasts. "My good girl, right?"

"Mhm…" You mumbled, letting your head loll back onto Simon's shoulder and look up at him through tear covered eyelashes, your brain not functioning properly to process the blurred mass of what you assumed was a man's face staring down at you with those beautiful eyes, his breath hitting your lips as he leaned down to press the kiss you'd been longing for for so goddamn long—

Your body jolted awake, an uncomfortable ache between your legs quickly making itself known as you tossed around in your messy bed, brows furrowed as your brain tried to catch up with your suddenly awakened body.

What had you even been dreaming about?

You rubbed at your eyes with your wrists, digging them deep enough so you saw a few blinding colours, letting go and resorting to staring up at the ceiling.

You didn't even bother checking your phone, already knowing that the only notifications you would have received in the few hours you'd spent asleep were the ones from the dating apps you still didn't have the energy to delete.

None from Simon, of course. He'd been gone for over two weeks by now, which wasn't surprising, since he had let you know that this mission would be a long one and had warned you in advance.

Considering the last mission he'd gone on was almost a month ago (and had only lasted a few days, you think he finished as soon as he could to be back with Tommy, by the way he'd barreled through the house to get to the nursery) and that you and Tommy had gotten him all to yourself for about two weeks straight, you'd expected him to be called sooner or later.

You weren't really looking forward to him coming back, since you'd have to break the news to him that he'd missed Tommy's first attempts to sit up without support and the success that came after.

Luckily, you'd filmed most of it, although you did end up throwing the phone on the sofa to congratulate your son personally, pressing kisses to his chubby rolls and listening to him giggle before accidentally helping him fall back onto your bed, causing him to burst out crying.

Okay, well, maybe you could just edit the final part out.

You were pulling the covers over yourself, snuggling back into the warmth of your mattress before attempting to close your eyes and fall back asleep (hopefully to return to whatever dream you'd been having before), when the sound of the creek of your floorboards snapped you out of it.

Your heart stopped, listening out for any further sounds, breath hitching in your throat as what you feared you'd heard continued, recognising the footsteps going from the living room into the kitchen.

You leaned over to your phone, hoping to God that Simon had finished the mission early and had sent you a quick message telling you he'd be coming back soon, but as you unlocked the phone…

Nothing.

So whoever was walking around your house was not Simon.

You heard muffled whispers, too quiet for you to understand but loud enough to send a cold shiver down your spine.

It terrified you. That cemented the fact that there was actually someone in your home, walking around like it was nothing.

But there was more than one voice. Two. Or was it more?

You assumed the sound that had woken you up had been the door opening, which inflicted even more fear into you at the thought that they must have had a key instead of knocking your door down since the sound hadn't been enough to stick with you after pulling you awake.

Your eyes instinctively darted over to the bedside table, where Simon's gun still laid untouched every since he'd "gifted" it to you, staying frozen until one pair of feet got a bit too close to your door, mind racing and adrenaline pumping through your veins as you scrambled to open the drawer as quietly as possible and pull out the gun and mag with shaky hands, carefully pushing it in before cocking it, hissing at the loud sound it made.

You stepped out of bed, body shaking as you neared the door with the heavy gun in your hand, listening out carefully for what they could be saying.

"—ce gaf. Didn' expect this from ya."

"You're a classy one aren't — your sofa?"

The voices were broken and muffled, leaving your brain to try its best to complete them.

God, this was terrifying. You could feel your whole body shaking, waiting for the moment where it could give out.

It's okay. Deep breaths.

You can do this.

The doorknob rattled, the moment it twisted seemingly happening in slow motion, your heart skipping a beat before you raised your gun up to the attacker, finger grabbing at the trigger just in case they made a dangerous move on you, your frantic eyes meeting the surprised ones of the man you were currently pointing a gun at (which you'd never used before, mind you).

"Steamin' fuckin'-"

You didn't even have time to react before his arm instinctively raised towards you, hand grasping at your throat in an instant, like the only thing he'd been taught to do was to kill.

"What the fuck are you doing!?"

You heard a familiar voice roar as the hand tightened around your throat, the gun now abandoned at your feet as your hands scratched and tugged at your attacker's hand.

The last thing you saw before your eyes clouded over was the large shadow coming up from behind your assailant, their face one that despite the tears that blurred your vision you could tell was ready to rip apart someone.

You didn't even have time to think if it was going to be you or his partner.

TAGLIST: @selfassassin @ess-perspective-blog @crazyfandomist @webreathfandoms @warners-wife @prodyng @gaycrystalbitch @uhhely @mentallynot-here @jordanwalkersworld @skepticalleo @bratsukisworld @screamingoverfiction @comedinewithmeyeh @gojosbucket @mikasakuchiki @jonhswife @tea-effect @thelittlejinx @cafesho @daddylorianisastateofmind @63sucker @simpingforleoandnico @simonsslvt @embers-of-alluring @uriahs-sketchings @alexisv15 @alexkellersleg @jordanwalkersworld @tabalugax @diekoniginvonfernet @thatoneautor0123 @technicallyvirtualmilkshake @littlezarp @crazyfandomist @hypernovaxx @am-3-thyst @madamemelancholysstuff @lylesx @anxietydrogz @jaymum @coacaiyne @emmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa @ghostsfavhoe @maviee @pedropascalswhore @d4z01 @beakami (if your name is in white, it means I couldn't tag you!)

[boyinatown]

Hello, could I request a scenario of Samuel with a reader who is stoic but very gentle and obssessed with playing violin?

I'd love to see the scenario applied to Gun and Goo but just Samuel would have me praising your godly writing skills.

Have a nice day!

MUSIC TO HIS EARS

Warnings - none

Pairing - Samuel , Gun & Goo x GN! Reader

A/n: Sorry if this wasn’t good, I’ve had some tough weeks lately. All the requests will be done, just a slow process. Thanks for requesting. 🍁

SAMUEL SEO

The first time Samuel met you was when you walked into his broadcasting studio, signing a contract to be a live violin player for your fans. You were a well known musician, not to mention : very attractive. He knew he couldn’t let you go, thus making you his with or without a contract involved

It was a late night the one time you chose to play outside for people passing by as a side gig near a restaurant to set a theme attracting customers to walk in and gaze upon your figure holding your violin, strumming the strings with your violin bow closing your eyes to focus. Seeing small pop up melody’s in your vision, after you slowly lower your bow the audience claps some putting money in your box.

Bowing at them you recognize a figure , a huge one at that between the crowd: your boyfriend. His small cloud of smoke coming closer forming a path behind him the smell marking the sky that once was scented as rainy. He held out his hand to help you off the stage stepping off you can’t help a small smile creeping upon your face.

‘ You’ve done it again, caught my heart, thief. ‘

‘ oh wow, charming. ‘ You teased him making his chest go up and down along with his signature laugh, the one you’d recognize from a million.

The one melody that you quite like, a lot at that.

JONGGUN PARK

Never in his life did the villain in everyone’s eyes, fall for a Angel with the hands that controlled his heartbeat with just a gentle strum on their violin. Seems like this angry storm had been calmed by the sun, once and for all.

‘ You were awesome again up there, no idea how you do it.. ‘ large hands with some scars for accessory massaging your smaller ones without even a speck of one. Finger carrying a diamond ring, one that showed you were his and he was yours. Jonggun park, the fearsome man who walked the streets of Korea to cause chaos and trouble now in-front of you kissing your delicate palms.

‘ I appreciate you Gun, Really…but these gifts…don’t you think their too-‘

‘Too?’ He asked urging you to finish your sentence, looking through his lashes at you pouting knowing you hated it when he spent a lot of money on you after your shows. In your vip room to take a small break before being occupied by interviewers and your attention being taken somewhere else then him. It bothered him, so these gifts were a small “ negotiation” for you to ditch them and spend time with him instead.

It was funny, some thought Gun was the one who wore the pants in the relationship. If only they knew how you’ve got him in the palm of your hands, your delicate hands.

The same hand he once kissed again, just now, with love.

JONGGOO KIM

Music was always your escape from the harsh reality you lived in, it was a small distraction really. It helped you also forget your very extroverted boyfriend who always demanded you to either play games with him or go outside to just “mess around” lucky for you, even music manages to tame a walking tornado like him.

You were in your room seated onto comfortable sheets and blankets surrounded by huge plushies and pillows. Laptop near you along with some sheets of paper where you noted important stuff for your small song. Everything was going so well, almost if it weren’t for your —

‘ babeeeee…c’mon you’ve been doin’ this for HOURS. Take a break, hey look a’ me! Just one minute! Can we please just talkkk..’ Goo Kim, the most loud & energetic person you’ve met, your boyfriend hanging onto your waist with his arm face on your back laying on his stomach beside you.

If you didn’t love him, you’d had kicked him out of your shared room and left him to stand in a corner as a form of time-out. Sighing you start playing your violin ignoring his whines and annoying noises that formed out of his mouth. Losing yourself to the focus you almost, just almost didn’t notice the way his grip loosened on your waist falling onto the bed.

Soon enough, snores were the only sound you could hear with your soft playing that faltered into being put to a stop, looking over your shoulder you see your beloved asleep holding onto a plushie he grabbed. He looked peaceful and at ease, you place your stuff aside resting your hand onto his head massaging through his blonde locks making him shift in his sleep and smile.

At lass , the tornado had came to an end, and you had been hypnotized by sleeping next to him.

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Stay With Me

Dean Winchester x sister!reader

Synopsis: Really just a lot of drabbles about reader growing up with big brother Dean.

Warnings: ANGST at the end, but with a happy ending (Because I’m a total coward that doesn’t believe in any other kind of ending, deal with it I’m never changing)

Author’s Note: Another one, really? Yeah I don’t know where they’re coming from, enjoy it while the obsession lasts!

“Stay with Dean, ok?”

That was your earliest memory. John Winchester, covered in blood, placed you in the strong arms of your oldest brother, and ran off to go after the vampire that had killed your mother and injured you.

You had tried to follow him, thinking he would somehow lead you back to your mom, too young to understand that she was gone forever.

Dean had snatched you up, holding you in his lap even as you struggled and cried.

“Hey, hey, stay with me baby, stay with me.”

A chill in the air bit into your skin. You were bleeding from various vampire cuts. You were trembling, and the only parent you had ever known was gone forever. But all you had to do was look up into your big brother’s eyes, and you somehow knew that everything would be ok.

…

“Hey, stay with me.”

Your eyes snapped up to your big brother, who was gesturing for you to keep up.

“But I wanted to get a balloon from the clown!” Your six-year old self whined, pointing over at one of the carnival booths.

Dean’s eyes scanned the area, before he lifted you into his arms and gave a meaningful glance to Sam. Sam looked terrified, but you couldn’t understand why he seemed so scared of the nice clowns.

“We’re not here to play with the clowns. You gotta stay with me, understand?”

You sighed in annoyance, glancing over at the clown with the big balloon. You really wanted one of those.

You let out a whine and kicked your legs, trying in vain to get out of Dean’s arms, “But Dean!”

Dean just chuckled, “c’mon baby, I’ll get you a funnel cake if you’re good.”

That was enough to make you go from whining and squirming, to clapping and leaning your head against your brother’s shoulder.

“Ok Dean.”

“Good girl.”

…

“Stay with me.”

“But Sam said to split up, shouldn’t we-”

Dean cut you off with a- “Y/N look out!” as he tackled you sideways. You saw the ax bury itself right where your head had been a second ago, the spirit wielding it clearly angry at having missed.

You and Dean both scrambled to your feet as the spirit vanished into thin air. You reached out to your brother and gripped onto his arm, trying to control your breathing. Dean took a moment to pull you into his chest, which you appreciated since you knew he was also trying to focus on where the spirit went. But you were only thirteen, and it was one of your first hunts, so Dean was going to make sure you got through it both physically and emotionally whole.

“Ok, ok, I’ll stay with you.”

Dean’s chest rumbled as his low chuckle reached your ears.

“Good girl.”

…

“Stay…stay with me. Please?”

Never, not even on a hunt, had a night scared you as much as this one. Sam and dad had spent hours yelling at each other, before Sam had finally packed a bag and stormed out the door, college-bound. You had run into his room while he was frantically shoving clothes into a bag, and you had begged him not to go away. He had just smiled sadly, wrapped you into his arms, kissed your head, and said goodbye.

And now this. Now Dean was staring up at you, his eyes almost…almost…vulnerable. Lost, even. Asking you to stay like he thought you were about to run away like Sam. It scared you. Dean was never vulnerable, he was never weak, he never had to ask you for anything. Then, you realized. Maybe he was just as scared as you were. He and Sam had been more than inseparable, they had a bond that you had been so certain would never be broken. But now it was. 

You walked over to where Dean was leaning against the wall, and slid down next to him. He pulled you into his arms, and clung to you as though you were his anchor to the world. You reached your hand up and pulled his head against your shoulder. Even with Sam gone, you had never felt safer and more secure than you did right now in Dean’s arms.

“We’re gonna be ok,” your voice was quiet, but resolute. Impossibly, Dean’s arms got even tighter around you.

“I know we will, baby. As long as you stay with me.”

…

“No, no, stay with me, I’m right here baby, stay with me.”

You struggled to clear the fog clouding your mind, fighting your way back to the voice that was calling to you. You blinked your eyes open and saw Dean, his face hovering over yours, his eyes wide. Panicked. You felt something warm and wet against your hand, and you looked down to see that it was covered in dark red liquid that was pooling around a tear in your shirt.

The demon. It had attacked you, ripping open a gash in your face, your leg, then finally your stomach.

“Dean…” your voice croaked past the lump in your throat, and you reached a hand up towards your brother. He gripped your smaller hand in his, and you felt his other hand behind your head, holding you up.

“You’re ok,” Dean swallowed hard, and you felt a tear drop onto your nose. Dean was crying. “You’re ok baby, I’ve got you, I promise I’ve got you, just stay with me, please.”

You felt the ground beneath you shake, and it took you a moment to realize why. You were in Baby, the car driving dangerously fast. You craned your neck to see Sam at the wheel. You glanced back and forth between your brothers, confused.

“Dean…why’s Sam…”

Dean brushed your hair away from your face, cringing when his hand came away from your face covered in blood.

“Shh, shh N/N, don’t try to talk. Sam’s driving so I can be here, I’m not gonna leave you baby.”

“We’re almost there,” Sam called from the front seat, glancing to the back for a split second. “Dean, you’ve gotta keep her awake.”

Dean looked down at you, alarmed when he saw your eyes drooping.

“Hey, hey c’mon N/N. Stay with me, I know you can, I know you can, ok? I’m right here, stay with me, stay.”

You forced your eyes open, and focused all of your attention on the green of Dean’s eyes. It was a pretty color, you decided. You had never really noticed…

“Pretty eyes,” you murmured.

“What?” Dean propped your head up a little higher, trying to keep you awake.

“You have pretty eyes,” you smiled up at your big brother.

Dean laughed softly, blinking rapidly to push the tears away from the surface.

“Yeah, ok sweetheart. Look right here, look at my eyes, don’t you fall asleep ok?”

You gripped his free hand hard in yours, squeezing it to try to force yourself to feel something other than the numbness that was threatening to take over.

“Ok Dean.”

…

The second that Sam brought the car to a stop, Dean had you cradled in his arms and was rushing you inside the emergency room.

“Help! I need help!”

…

You felt like there was a weight chained to your legs, dragging you down, down, down. Deep into some black…thing. Something you didn’t understand. Something that scared you. You struggled, trying to…to what? To fly, you supposed. But you couldn’t do it. You were being dragged down, and nothing could…

Wait. There was…something. A voice? It was calling out to you. The voice made you feel weightless, and impossibly, you felt yourself drawn to it, lifting up and away from the black void that threatened to claim you.

The voice was deep. Soft. soothing.

The voice was home.

“You come back to me. You hear me? I need you to stay with me.”

You knew that voice…

“Dean?” you felt your eyes open, and you felt suddenly snapped back into reality. A sharp antiseptic smell accosted your nose, and a harsh beeping made your ears ring. A blinding light was above you, but then suddenly, it was blocked out. 

Replacing it was a pair of bright green eyes.

“Baby? Oh, baby…” Dean’s strong arms wrapped around you, and you let your body collapse into him. Your brain still felt foggy, but you understood enough to know that you had just come back from a very dangerous edge, one that you weren’t ready to fall down. And so you clung to the thing that had brought you back from that edge.

You clung to your big brother.

You felt tears dripping down your cheeks, soaking Dean’s shirt.

“I stayed with you,” you cried, clinging to the fabric of Dean’s shirt as he held you in his arms, one hand at the back of your head, holding you to him, while the other rubbed up and down your back.

“I know, I know you did, sweetheart. Baby you were so strong.” Dean’s voice came out thick, and a little higher than usual, and you knew he was crying too. “I know you stayed with me. And I’m never gonna let you go, ok? I’m never gonna let you go.”

You smiled against your brother’s warm embrace.

“Ok, Dean.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Rebound 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Curtis Everett

Summary: after a divorce, you try to start over.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The village talks. Anyone passing through might see Hammer Ford as a sleepy hamlet nestled amidst rolling hills. They might call it quaint, they may even mistake the whispers for wind. But the town is anything but quiet.

As loud as any tongue are their eyes. You know their names and they know yours. They watch as they pretend not to, looking for fuel for the mill.

You know that Lynette was staring at your ring finger, barren but marked with the imprint of a band. As much as you want to just forget the past, it's not quite over yet. The papers are signed but it's not sealed away. Back to square one, almost.

But there's no starting over here. There's always reminders. Familiar faces, listening ears, and loose lips. You put your head down and ignore them. It's about time you live for yourself and not anyone else.

The library drones with the noise of the ventilation and the hushed voices of those browsing the shelves. The soft click of the outdated mice on their pads and the flutter of pages fill the din. You stamp the returned books and set them on a cart.

The job isn't very much. It's never busy. Not so dully and lifeless as the years you spent at home living a lie.

You close another cover and slide the book aside. A tread squeaks and draws your gaze up. You greet the man approaching the desk as he offers a single book.

"Find everything okay?" You ask. You know him, just like everyone else. Curtis works down at the lumber mill.

"Sure," he answers as you stamp the book and write in the due date. Everything in Hammer Ford is antiquated and dead.

"Alright, three weeks," you say as he offers his library card. You key it in with his name and the call number into the old PC. He watches silently and you hand back the book. He accepts it with a soft thanks.

"It's a good one," you say.

"Hm," he furrows his brow before looking down at the book in his hand.

"Yeah, I read all his stuff when... well, I had a phase," you shrug, "anyways, have a good day. Sorry."

He pauses and considers the book, "I read at the yard. On my lunch."

You're surprised. You don't know much about Curtis, no one does, but he's never been very talkative. You don't even know why you tried.

"Hard work," you comment, "lot easier than this place."

"Eh," he claps the book in his hand and looks away, "well, have a good night."

"You too," you echo back.

You watch him go and don't think much more of it. You assume it's the same pity everyone else treats you with. Your husband left you and now you're working in the library, living in your sister's basement, and all alone. Compared to your ex, you're not exactly thriving.

And who wouldn't feel bad for you? You're over the hill, you're used, and you have a bit too much love in your handles. You feel bad for yourself.

You huff and carry on sorting books. No use dwelling on it all. You're no one's problem but your own now so it's up to you to do something about it.

🌲

On your day off, you wake up at the same time. You're already conditioned to working hours. You have your coffee on the small sofa and watch the local news. Not anything exciting.

This is the first day of your new life. You made up your mind as you lay sleepless at midnight. You're going to make a change.

So, you put on a pair of sweats and a loose tee and that ratty old pair of sneakers you've worn to tatters. It isn't a big leap forward but it's a start. Just a walk. You'll make an effort to go every day, after work during the week, and in the mornings on the weekends.

And the food. You have to rein that in. Just a little less pie and no sugar in your coffee. A decade of bad habits won't be put to rest in a single day but you'll at least try.

You leave out the basement door, mindful not to make too much noise as you do. You woke up your sister's kids once and haven't heard the end of it. You put in your wired earbuds and hook the tiny mp3 player to your waistband. You don't even think they make these things anymore.

You head off down the country road, hills sprawling before you. Just up the rise and you'll turn off into the woods. There's a walking trail that circles back around near Mr. Howland's. It should be too far.

You're proven wrong as you're breathless by the time you reach the treeline. You slow and find a stump to sit on just a few feet down the path. You fan yourself and mourn your own thoughtlessness. You should've brought water.

You get up and stretch your legs, already tired from the walk. You press on. You'll feel even more rotten if you turn back now.

You follow the winding trail around the trees and through the brush. Twigs snap under your soles with a peculiar echo. Critters rustle in the leaves and scurry into burrows. The sunlight shifts above as a shadow ripples over you.

You turn suddenly and look around, paranoid. It could be a bear but they don't often show themselves. Nothing. You're being stupid.

You turn up the music and fall back into step. You see the clearing just ahead and Mr. Howland's rotting shed. Halfway there. You don't think you'll be doing much more when you get home. You might just have a nap.

[hazza-bear-care]

Ironic

Hayden and Reader met and fell in love while filming a movie. After a four year break, you go on the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, and he points something out.

gif not mine; credit to the owner!

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Actress!Reader (established relationship) age gap (Reader is 28, Hayden is 41)

Warnings: Fluff, dad!Hayden, twins are a boy and a girl, pet names (honey, sweetheart), is jimmy fallon in new york or la? hes in new york for this one. mentions of pregnancy, abortion, and childbirth

~~~~~~~~

You were scrambling around the condo trying to make sure you had everything you needed before you left for the night. You kissed your babies as they slept, quietly slipping downstairs to see your husband. He looked amazing, dressed in all black, his hair slicked back and a smirk on his face.

"You look great, honey. Do you have everything?" Hayden asked, ever patient while you ran through your mental checklist, confirming you were ready to leave. He held out is arm and led you to the car, the babysitter told to make herself at home and not to wait up. Your heels clacked on the concrete path, unconsciously chewing on your bottom lip as the driver opened the car door, sliding quickly into your seat. Hayden followed, grabbing your hand to comfort you.

"I'm okay." You mumble, feeling the lingering stare your boyfriend was sending your way. With a chuckle, he pulled your hand up from your lap and kissed your knuckles.

"I know. I'm still here, sweetheart." The tender moment made your heart skip a beat, tummy now flipping for a different reason, a welcome distraction from the nerves.

"Thank you, honey." You responded, sending him a loving smile. He nodded and kissed your hand again, letting you turn to look at New York whizzing by. It was a rainy November day, the anticipation of snow thick in the air and the condensation on the window blurred the city lights as you got closer to your destination. You hurried into the building, clutching tightly to Hayden's hand as he confidently led you through the double doors. A crewmember corralled you into your dressing room backstage seeing as you were about half an hour early and you took a deep breath to help calm down. Hayden grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and cracked it open before handing it to you, which you gratefully accepted.

Thirty minutes later, you and Hayden stood behind the curtain, waiting for Jimmy to introduce you. Your knees were wobbly and your palms were sweaty, anxiety settling in a ball in your belly.

"Please welcome Hayden Christensen and Y/N Y/L/N!" As the curtain opened, Hayden squeezed your hand three times, a silent I love you. You smiled and waved to the audience, excitedly hopping over to your seat and clapping with the audience.

"Oh my God, I've missed this!" You gushed, a bright smile on your face.

"It's great to have you back! How are you? How have you been?" Jimmy asked, his eyes flicking between the two of you.

"I've been good! Lots of changes, a few new surprises, but it was definitely what I needed." You responded, glancing at Hayden as you spoke. He returned your gaze, smiling at you with so much love and support it almost made your heart explode.

"So you two met on a movie, correct?"

"Yes! It was a cheesy little rom-com called Maybe, Probably. It took about a year and a half to film, and it was a wild ride from start to finish." Hayden answered.

"In a good way?" Jimmy asked, leaning over his desk to hear better.

"In the best way, Jimmy." You responded. A chorus of 'aww' rippled through the audience and you blushed, biting back a smile and turning back to face Jimmy.

"So what was your first date like?"

"Oh it was pretty great despite the circumstances." You giggled slightly at the memory. "I was sick the day of. I spent all day filming outside in, like, 30 degree weather, and I had rain pouring on me. I woke up the next day feeling like crap and I did everything in my power to feel better by the date, but nothing worked."

"Oh no! What happened?" Jimmy urged.

"I called Hayden and apologized. He accepted, then asked me if there was anything I needed. I thought nothing of it, he was just being nice, until about an hour later when he showed up at my place with soup, medicine, and my favorite movie." You gushed, once again blushing as Hayden held your hand.

"Which is funny because her favorite movie is Revenge of the Sith." Hayden commented, laughing with you and the audience.

"Aw that was so sweet! So you took a break soon after Maybe, Probably. Why?"

"I was getting burnt out, in all honesty. I've been in the industry since I was 18, and after six years of non-stop working; filming and interviews, and traveling, It was just time for a break."

"Hayden, how did you feel during that time?"

"I agreed and supported her choice. I know what it's like to work until you're bone tired, and you suddenly stop that routine, you don't know what to do with yourself." Jimmy nodded, listening intently.

"I got cabin fever pretty early on. I deep cleaned the house, read all the books I had, went for walks. I did whatever I could to keep myself busy for about two weeks, before I eventually just hit a wall. One day I think I slept until like 2 in the afternoon, I was just that tired."

"Wow! So you're feeling better, right? Ready to get back into acting when the time is right?" Jimmy asked, flipping through his notecards to keep the conversation flowing.

"Oh yeah, of course! I'm already working on a few new things that I can't talk about just yet, but so far they're pretty amazing!" You answered quickly, wrapping your hands around your knee as you crossed your legs.

"You mentioned some new surprises earlier on, would you care to elaborate?" Jimmy asked, a knowing smile on his face. You glanced at Hayden, who slightly nodded at the question hanging in the air.

"After two years of being together, I found out I was pregnant right around Valentine's Day." You revealed, the crowd going wild shortly after they heard the word 'pregnant'.

"Oh that's amazing! What was your reaction to that?" Jimmy asked.

"I was terrified! I went back and forth for weeks about what I wanted to do; keep it, don't keep it. I ended up calling my mom to tell her, and of course her first question was 'have you told Hayden yet?'. My answer was no, because we hadn't discussed having a baby. We weren't even living together at the time, so I practically chewed my lip off as I debated having this conversation with him." You answered, popping your knuckles anxiously.

"When she finally did tell me, I think we had just missed the cutoff to abort, but I didn't care. I knew I wanted another baby almost as soon as Briar was born, so when Y/N told me she was pregnant I practically jumped out of my skin."

"So about four months after I found out, I went to the doctor. I had an amazing OB/GYN, and she supported my craziness and my paranoia on days when Hayden couldn't be there. Anyway, this was a routine appointment, I'm laying on the ultrasound table, and all of a sudden she gets this weird look on her face. My heart drops and I immediately think the worst; I had lost my baby.... until she looks at me with a smile and pushes a button on the keyboard. The sound of not one, but TWO heartbeats echoed around me and Hayden and I just remember looking between him and the doctor with wide eyes." You giggled.

"You guys had twins?" Jimmy asked, jaw on the floor in shock.

"We had twins, a boy and a girl." Hayden answered. The crowd cheered along with Jimmy, who came around the desk to wrap you in a hug.

"Congratulations! What are their names, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Thank you! It was quite a debate trying to pick their names. I called them Ross and Monica, Jim and Pam while I was pregnant, but none of them really stuck. I think we were about to be discharged from the hospital, getting all packed up and dressed, and I looked at my babies and it all just clicked. Our son is Theodore Isaac Christensen, aka Theo. Our daughter is Matilda Sage Christensen, aka Tilly." You gushed about your babies, tearing up slightly as you thought about them at home with the nanny, almost feeling guilty that you weren't there with them. Hayden noticed your voice beginning to crack, so he took over talking.

"They just turned one in October, and we had a cute Star Wars themed birthday party. We invited friends and family, Briar loves being a big sister, it just all worked out so wonderfully. I couldn't ask for a better family, if I'm being honest."

"Y/N, at what point did you realize that you had twins with Anakin Skywalker?" Jimmy asked, throwing his head back and clapping as he watched a wave of realization hit both you and Hayden.

"I never connected the dots! Haha, Natalie, I had his twins and survived!" You commented, Jimmy laughing harder at the joke you made.

"Alright, when we come back, we're going to play some games with Y/N, Hayden, and our next guest! See you soon!" Jimmy called to the camera, signaling a commercial break. The rest of the show went by in a flash, the games you played with your boyfriend, Jimmy Fallon, and Blake Lively helping you realize just what you were missing during your break.

You loved acting. You got to do your dream job every day, no matter how tiring it was, but nothing could replace the feeling of going home at the end of the day and spending some quality time with your little family.

Maybe you should take a break more often. Probably not.

[sugar-omi]

werewolf Derek in heat with a breeding kink. That's it. Go wild with this.

didn't expect it but ty because this is the first post for kinktober LMAO but pls the way this sent a rush thru me... i'm going crazy

DAY ONE — BREEDING

*kinktober masterlist | *ao3

tags : NSFW, fem/afab readers, mindbreak, creampie, scratching, biting, overstimulation, knotting

synopsis : werewolf!derek is in rut. you help him through it, even if it leaves you sore, but especially if it means he'll stuff you with his cum and breed you.

you're so dazed.

he's been fucking you for hours, thrusting his fat dick into your poor, abused hole. you whine loudly, drool slipping from your open lips.

derek licks it up, growling into your shoulder.

you shake, overwhelmed with pleasure. you can't even think, the only thing on your mind is derek and pleasure.

his grip on your hips tighten, his claws digging into the fat of your hips and your hiss at the pain, blood pooling to the surface.

he's going to bandage it up later, as he will with many of the other scratches and bites he's left on your poor body already.

"so warm..." derek huffs, the movement of him shifting his knees to fuck you deeper makes a loud moan rip from your throat.

all you can hear is the dull clapping of his hips meeting your ass, fucking you deeply. his tip is bruising your cervix, leaving your insides aching and it should hurt but it feels so good.

you've become a slave to the pleasure, letting yourself drown in derek's arm and let your mind focus on nothing but opening yourself up to take his dick and help him through rut.

after this though... you'll definitely be different after this. usually derek makes love to you, gentle and caring and so sweet. but his rut has turned him into an animal in bed and you love it more than you should.

derek's hips stutter, finishing inside you for the nth time that night. your loud whine mixes with his growl, derek's sharp eyes focused on how the cum leaks from around his dick.

you pant, shaking on your elbows and drop your head.

but you don't have long to bask in the afterglow or catch your breath, derek easily manhandles you so that you're on your back and he pushes back into your spent puffy hole.

you yell, not even having time to think about your sensitivity before he's back to fucking you with abandon.

he leans down to kiss you, slipping his tongue in your mouth. his fangs catch on your lips but you ignore it, basking in every bit of pain and pleasure. it all feels good and it just brings you higher.

"sorry... almost done. promise..." derek mumbles against your lips, but his hands are pushing your hips down so he can fuck into you with quick thrusts, the bed sliding and bumping against the wall from the power of his thrusts.

you pant, dragging your nails down his back. you don't have the energy to call him out, you don't even have half the brain to at this point.

"i-i'm.. i'm gonna knot!" derek grunts into your ear, leaning over you and your legs are forced up to your shoulders from his body on top of you, easily slamming his dick into your weeping insides since he's practically on top of you.

you gather your remaining sense and beg, "knot me! please, please, please-"

you're turning into a mess, babbling and begging to be knotted.

derek has the nerve to try to use sense, "are you sure? i-" you snap, ignoring him. "you've came in me already! fucking knot me, you dumb dog!"

you've bitten off more than you can chew with those words, derek accepting your pleads and he starts kissing and nipping your neck as his knot starts to grow, catching on your hole and the tugging makes you whine.

you don't even realize you're crying until derek licks and kisses it away.

you lock your legs around derek's back, forcing him to go deeper.

he growls, the sound reverberating through you and you tangle your hands in his scruff, pulling him back from your neck. "knot me, 'wanna.. wanna have your pups."

derek groans, trying not to bite through your shoulder that he was marking before you forced his hand.

your vision shakes, your hands tugging on derek's hair, catching the fur of his ears and you can feel his voice rumble against your shoulder, a threatening sound to anyone else but a clear sign of pleasure to you.

the stretch burns, you've never been knotted before but after this you can't see this being the last time.

he can't move like this and you can't decide if that's a blessing or a curse, his fat tip pushing against your abused cervix and your stomach swells a bit now that his cum as no where to go.

you both moan loudly, you clinging onto derek as he cums inside you again.

he pants, his weight pushing down on you and you weakly slap his shoulders to get him off you.

derek kisses your cheek, as if to apologize for such an assault on your poor cunt. he mumbles something you don't really catch, probably something about moving you since he moves your limp body so you're on top of him.

you blink, still dazed and letting him do as he pleases. but you finally look down to see where you're connected and you can't help the moan that falls from your throat.

"derek..." you mumble, bringing your hand to your abdomen, taking in your swollen stomach and how full you fill..

you barely register derek mumbling apologies, you're so lost in thinking about how good it feels to be stuffed with his dick and cum.

"it should go down soo-"

you look at him with a loopy smile, "can't wait to have your puppies..."

derek's jaw tightens, his hands fisting the already ruined sheets. he's silent but the look in your eyes hypnotize him, "you're gonna be so pretty taking care of my pups..."

you're in for a long week.

[cosmicvenusnebula]

⋆ Teachers Pet - I ⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Characters: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader AU: Modern (No Outbreak)

Chapter description: Your first day of college.

Contents: Fluff, incredibly large age-gap, cussing, slow burn, very feminine Y/n, mentions of childhood trauma and parental death,

Word Count: 673 - 3,707 characters.

A/n: As of right now, I am 17. I turn 18 in 53 days, so it's gonna be slow burn until January 2025, then its gonna get smutty <3 Also no fucking idea when I will be releasing more chapters, I have severe writers block.

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"Here you go Miss L/n! Your first class starts in 30 minutes." A nice lady at the office hands you your semesters schedule, your first class was music in Building C.

You begin walking towards your first class, looking around you can't believe how big everything is. It almost reminds you of a castle... albeit a crappy castle. You only went to in-person education for Elementary so it never occurred to you that schools for older people would be bigger. Junior High and Highschool took place in your living room in-front of a large computer, bored 24/7, zoned out into the screen as your parents argued all day.

You didn't understand why your parents refused to let you in public school, but at least you were still able to get good grades, even pick up a few skills in art and music despite the cons of being home everyday.

After you graduated highschool, it wasn't a surprise when your father said you shouldn't go to public college because you were "too much". It also wasn't a surprise when he drank himself to death a year later. It was the same night he got taken away by an ambulance that you realized he never wanted you to go to public school because he couldn't control what you did or said.

You finally started researching colleges, and you got yourself enrolled to Texas University of Art and Music. Having your entire childhood spent drawing, painting, and singing you have a strong connection to the artistic side of yourself. Thankfully the university gave you grants, and your mom used all your dead fathers money to pay for what expenses were left.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You make it to your first class 10 minutes early, finding your assigned seat you sit down and drop your bag at your feet. You look around slightly and notice a couple girls your age staring, and as you continue to look around you notice no one else is wearing a dress.

'Whatever' you think to yourself, it was just a pink sundress, with light pink tights, a white cardigan, and your white sneakers. You didn't feel like you overdressed, this was just your aesthetic, you wore this kind of outfit every time you went out of the house. Jeans were uncomfortable, and you only wore sweatpants or shorts to bed.

The faint sound of the large clock in the middle district dinging, letting everyone know the hour was up and it was now 9am.

A older female walks in, followed by an even older man. She looked around 54, the man looked a little over 60, and he was... quite attractive. He was taller than you, with salt and pepper hair, a scruffy short beard and mustache, and he was well built but had a slight dad-bod.

"Good morning everyone! I am Professor Servopoulos, I will be teaching you how to properly use your vocals over this next year." The women said, gesturing to the man to go next. "I uhm. I'm Professor Miller, and I'll be showing you how to play instruments." He seems to be slightly nervous, or maybe just awkward.

"Singers, please enter the open door to your left. That's the room we will hold our class in. Instrument players, please stay where you are." Professor Servopoulos walks through the door with her students, turning on the light and you see a choir set-up.

After the door shuts, Professor Miller clears his throat. "Ok, everyone." He says clapping his hands, voice deep and gruff. "This class is to teach you how to teach others music. It's purpose is to give you opportunities for jobs like mine. Today is orientation, and there is a paper on all of your desks, fill it out and hand it back to me when your done."

You begin to fill out the paper, it's a get to know you page. Questions about you, your goals for the future, and 4 options for what instrument category you want to excel in.

Stringed

Percussion

Brass

Woodwind

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I'ma leave it there, it's not good I know, but I don't know how to do slow burn, so uh... we'll pick up in the next chapter <3

(Trust me I am way better at one-shots so... oof sorry)

[sarahshoots1st]

THE HOLY TRINITY

I deconstruct in my way, you deconstruct in yours

[hanahaki-disease]

Beyond the Farthest Reaches

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

“Bubbles”

Set After “There is a New Intention” (a far into the future upload, but can be read without spoilers)

Summary:

“A nick name is a term of endearment placed upon a person by family and close friends. It can also be given by members of a team, group, or among strangers to differentiate a person from the other, not to be confused with the malicious definition of ‘name.’”

“You look like a nerd,” Jason said.

Notes:

I have been told that this series needs a bit more fluff to balance out the angst…

They might be right…

**************************************

“Alright,” Stephanie extended the pointer she stole from Tim’s bag. “Percy and I have called you all here for an important meeting that has been a decade in the making on Percy’s side.” Percy nodded. “The topic we wish to discuss: nicknames. New additions and explanations for those already in use. Percy? Would like to start us off?”

“Yes, thank you,” Percy stood forward, letting Stephanie take over control of the laptop. The projector was blinding but he could see everyone in their unassigned assigned seating in the viewing room. Bruce sat front and center, his notebook and pen in hand and Percy couldn’t tell if he was being serious by taking notes or if he was just playing along. On one side of him was Cassandra and Damian, the other had Tim and Barbara, and sitting behind them were Dick, Jason, and Alfred.

That’s usually where Percy sat, too, he can see his seat still empty between Jason an Alfred. “We will begin with the definition for those of you who don’t know.” The slide changed behind them. “A nick name is a term of endearment placed upon a person by family and close friends. It can also be given by members of a team, group, or among strangers to differentiate a person from the other, not to be confused with the malicious definition of ‘name.’”

“You look like a nerd,” Jason said.

“A prime example of a malicious ‘name’” Percy called out, and with the most condescending tone he could muster he said, “Good job, Jason.” Which earned some snickers and quiet huffs of amusement. “We will now begin the segment of reviewing the current nicknames being used. First up—” A bad photo of Bruce in his robe popped up on screen. “Bruce. Oh, and thank you to Barbara who has supplied the pictures for this presentation.”

“I did everyone dirty.” She laughed.

They spent the next hour or so going over Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and Jason’s nicknames. Voting for which ones were allowed to stay and if there were any that should be used. Bruce and Alfred’s stayed the same, but Jason demanded the term ‘zombie’ added to the roster. It was not.

“Next, is Tim.” Stephanie led the slide. Percy remembers the night the picture came from, it was the time Tim thought he could go against Condiment Man alone and ended up in a vat of Mayo. He laughed his ass of when he compared him to the Rainbow Dash Jar and Tim almost cried. “Before we get to the voting, I request an explanation of one particular name. The full explanation this time—” She looked to Tim and Percy. “Of the name ‘ducky.’”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“I call upon—Jason!” She pointed the stick at him. “Explain!”

“Jay, no, please.” Tim folded himself over the back of his chair, hands in prayer. Of all the nicknames he had, and he had a lot since his name was easy to mess with, this was the one he wished they could vote out. It was childish. It was demeaning. (He’ll never admit he likes it.) “Please don’t tell.”

Jason instead stood up from his seat, hopped over Tim, and took center stage. “So,” He clapped, “For those who don’t know, I was the one who started calling Timbit ‘ducky’ and there’s a very logical and simple reason for that, two, actually.”

“The first, his last name is a type of duck. Didn’t think much of it, I barely interacted with him until Percy started bringing him over after school more often,” Jason said. “When he did come over, the he would not stop following me when he wasn’t with Percy. No matter where I went, or where I hid, that stage five clinger was right there.” They turned their heads towards Tim who was trying to hide behind his chair. Percy, along side Jason, were outright laughing. “And with the knowledge that his name meant ‘duck’ I began to call him ‘ducky’ because he was following me like a little duckling.”

“I say we vote the name out!” He shot forward, ears tinted red from embarrassment.

“No! We are not voting out the name!” Percy defended. “It is a perfectly good name and encapsulates you in its’s entirety. And we can use it in public, unlike stalker, which is true as well.”

“I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you, bubbles,” Bruce smiled and Percy’s dropped, Jason’s growing even wider. He covered his mouth with a gasp, turning to face his little brother with the biggest shit eating grin he had, “I forgot about ‘bubbles!’”

Percy quickly found the edge of the makeshift podium interesting. “We didn’t have to bring up bubbles…” he murmured but it was ignored when everyone turned to Bruce to tell.

“Yes, I did since it wasn’t on your slide,” Bruce said.

“Explain bubbles.” Cassandra leaned forwards in her seat. Percy tried to interfere, but Jason was quick to put him in a head lock. His yells of protests went unheard to the main group as their play fight turned into wrestling.

“This was years ago when I took them to the aquarium for their first birthday in my care,” Bruce began, recalling the memory…

The aquarium wasn’t very busy mid-august which was a surprise. Bruce would’ve thought that since it was summer, more people would be able to take their children or spend the day with their loved ones. Walking through the different sections and interacting with the creatures and animals without worrying about work or school. He supposed he was one of the lucky parents who were able to take a Wednesday off for no reason other than to celebrate his son’s birthdays.

Bruce watched from behind the line of children, all of them pressing into each other on one half of the sting ray touch-pool. He could spot his boys at the very front. Jason’s little hand in the cool water just barely grazing their fingers along the slightly smooth skin of the animal.

Had it been other children at the front, Bruce was sure they wouldn’t be as nice to them as they should. Splashing the water, touching them a little too hard than necessary, or being too loud. He knows the children mean well, they were just excited to be able to interact with the string ray and didn’t really know how to channel it properly. But when he and the boys walked it, it seemed like it was the other way around.

The sting rays were swimming faster in the shallow waters. Zipping around each other and towards whatever side of the pool Percy and Jason were, as if they were excited puppies waiting to play. When the two of them reached the edge, Jason was the only one brave enough to touch them, and the sting rays seemed to fight for his attention. That was strange. Why were they behaving like that? Even the aquarium attendants were confused, whispering and the abnormal behavior.

When they finally ventured out of the sting ray zone, and Jason’s mouth was rambling a hundred miles a minute about every kind of stingray and their specific attributes, they had traveled to the jellyfish exhibit. Percy seemed to light up at the sight of them, pressing his face and hands against the glass for each one.

Bruce didn’t understand how jellyfish were the animal that captured Percy’s excitement the most. He could understand Jason with the stingrays, they swam, around and had cool tails and always looked to be smiling. But jellyfish? They were mindless creatures that did nothing but each plankton and bump into each other. Yet, when he looked at Percy’s bright face, smooshed against the unsanitary glass, completely enthralled and content to just stand and watch them for hours, he didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t understand.

Hours later and the aquarium explored thoroughly, Bruce and his sons left the building with bright smiles and a large gift bag full of gift shop items. Shirts and stuffies, plastic toys and postcards, bubble wands and a little tank that made plastic little jellyfish swim for however long Percy wanted. Did he spend an adsorbent amount of money on stuff? Yes, he did, it was for their birthday. Was he still going to buy them even more gift to make up for the years they spent without birthday presents? Absolutely. Bruce loves spoiling his kids. Dick wasn’t immune to that either, he constantly sends him packages filled with trinkets or objects that reminded Bruce of him. Percy and Jason were no different.

“Did you boys like the aquarium?” Bruce asked them as they walked to the car. They nodded their heads before blowing bubbles out of the wands he got them. Alfred was not going to like how sticky they were going to make things, but Bruce will take the blame. “That’s good. Tomorrow, Percy, you get to decide what we do for your birthday.”

His youngest titled his head, “I thought the aquarium was my birthday thing.”

“No, it was mine.” Jason corrected. “I wanted to go yesterday for my birthday, but they’re closed on Tuesdays because they clean the habitats. I asked.”

“So whatever you want to do, whatever you want to eat for meals, we will do because it’s your birthday.” Bruce poked Percy in the shoulder to emphasize his words. “We could go to the planetarium if you’d like?”

When Bruce had asked that, he didn’t notice Percy had taken out the bubble wand, the excess soap running down and over his hand, and was just about to blow. But instead of blowing out the air, in Percy’s excitement, he gasped. The sharp inhale of air that close to the wand made a bubble form into his open mouth, causing the child to cough and choke at the taste.

Immediately, Bruce went into Dad mode™. Patting at Percy’s back to help, handing off the bubble wand to his brother, who was quietly (or as quiet and eleven year old could be) snickering at his brother. “I knew you were excite, but I didn’t think you’d try to eat the bubbles, bud.”

“Maybe we should start calling you ‘bubbles’ now,” Jason laughed.

“No!” Percy coughed.

“Bubbles!”

“Stop!”

“Make me, bubbles.” Percy chased after Jason in the empty space next to the car, not fast enough to catch up as they circled the car ether. “Bubbles! Bubbles! Percy likes to eat bubbles!”

“You choked…” Tim turned his head to where Jason and Percy were a tangled mess of arms and legs. Jason’s arm was still wrapped around Percy’s neck, and Percy had one of Jason’s leg pulled back at and awkward angle. “On bubbles?”

“I was eight and thought only the super-rich could go to the planetarium!” Percy defended. “And like yeah, I knew B was rich when he took us in, but it didn’t click how rich till he said we could go for my birthday. But remember the context, Jason and I had only been living with Bruce for, what, two weeks, at that time?”

“No, not even,” Jason let go of Percy, who almost hit his head on the floor. “A week, I think, since he still needed to get the paperwork completed.”

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded his head. “I had been living in a crate a week before, of course I didn’t believe he was that rich!”

“The point still stand,” Damian looked at Percy. “You choked on bubbles.”

He dropped his head on the ground with a thud, groaning “Oh my gods!!” into the floor.

**************************************

Stephanie does reference a moment that takes place earlier in the timeline, the only reason it’s not published yet is because I want to wait until the main series catches up to that point.

Expect the next main series to update sometime this weekend (09/07-08/24)

Hope you enjoyed it!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

[positivelybeastly]

Ok, but what do you think was going through Hank's head between Trish dumping him and Cassandra Nova screwing him over? How did he spend those hours?

Also, this is your safe space to roast Trish Trilby into the freaking sun. (Please please please).

Also, (sorry if this is too much) Why do you think Cassandra screwed with Hank so much?

It was his first time putting on this new tux - all of his old ones no longer fit, naturally - and if he was frightfully honest, it had been rather a pain, doing it with his new digits; waistcoat buttons, dress shirt, bowtie, all just so remarkably fiddly. He had spent his whole life so uniquely talented with his hands that even a slight reduction in dexterity would have thrown him, but this . . .

But it would be worth it, he told himself, as he primped and preened a little bit in the mirror. It was, in its way, a self-confidence boost all on its own, to be able to dress himself so finely without tearing a hole in the silk or nicking himself with his own claws.

As he looked into the mirror, he even found it within himself to smile, and to like that smile, no less - he felt as though he could feel his old face coming through, which was a bizarre concept, but one which was something of an old friend to him by now. It usually came before acceptance, which was all to the good, surely? He had weathered this before, and he would do again.

"There is no exquisite beauty . . . without some strangeness in the proportion.” No doubt Poe would have had a nervous fit, to see a creature such as the Beast quoting him from memory, but then, what hadn't set that poor man into a nervous fit? Not that . . . Hank couldn't relate, of course, but . . . he cleared his throat, determined to be positive.

This was a big night, his first night out since he'd changed, and he was determined that it was going to be a big night.

Moving over to the answering machine, Hank carefully depressed the button, and erupted into a smile as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. In his head, he felt as though he could hear his old self clapping him on the back and telling him, you got this, boychik!

"Hi, Hank . . ."

A cocky grin on his face now, Hank pulled back a bit, adopting an almost sultry pose as he looked in the mirror, adjusting his bowtie. "Well hello, Trish." He couldn't help himself.

"RROOowr!" He did look good, didn't he?

"Are you ready for a balloon ride across upstate New York with champagne and . . ." His ears flicked. Trish didn't sound . . .

"I'm sorry I'm being such a coward about this, Hank, but I'm calling from Washington, and . . . it's not you, it's me."

Hank stopped mid hair primp.

"You're still the same lovely Hank inside, even since you changed so much, but . . . I know you can't help your eyes, but you look at me like I'm prey sometimes and . . ."

His arm fell down by his side.

"And the Enquirer ran a story about us . . . the word 'bestiality' was used three times . . ."

He felt - he felt -

"I couldn't do anything to hurt you, dear, lovely Hank. But this could ruin my career as a broadcaster."

He felt like he was going to be sick.

"Oh god, I didn't mean it like that."

How did you mean it, Trish.

"Oh, Hank . . . I'm making such a mess of this."

Are you.

"I'm so sorry."

Are you truly?

The answering machine beeped mockingly, asking him if he wanted to delete the message, replay it, or save it.

With an uncanny accuracy that would have made Gambit proud, Hank whipped the hand mirror through the air with enough force that it smashed the answering machine into plastic smithereens, the moulded shell of it collapsing to the floor in amongst the broken glass.

No.

No, that wasn't enough.

His body possessed by the same kind of predatory speed that filled prey animals with terror, he stalked over to the corpse of the machine and began to stomp, over, and over, and over again. Transistors, transducers, receivers, numeric keys, wire, it all ended up stomped into a twisted mess of shit, because that's all all of this was, it was shit, it was bullshit, it was all bullshit -

Bringing his paws up to the collar of his tuxedo, worn just this once, freshly tailored, costing a good few thousand dollars, from a tailor that Janet van Dyne had recommended to him personally, Hank tore it all to shreds in one fell rip.

It all came away in gossamer strings, light and thready and soft, and as it peeled away, Hank thought for a moment that he might quite like to reach up just a few inches higher, dig his claws into his skull, and do the exact same thing with his skin, and his fur, until the meat suit went the way of the monkey suit and he was himself again. Until the him, the real him, not this royal blue mockery, was what people saw again.

But it wasn't that easy, now, was it?

The pants were next. Then the boots, the first of which he kicked off his feet and sent flying into a monitor that cost more than the suit, cracking it. He didn't care. Off came the other one. Another $10,000, down the drain. Who cared.

Newly naked, and not even remotely calm, Hank bent over and pressed his head into the cold, sterile metal of the lab that Charles had invested millions into, and screamed, an inarticulate sound of pain and fury and humiliation and shame. His brain felt as though it were throbbing. He could feel it pulsing against the bounds of his skull, just wishing it could escape the confines of this mortal shell, and Hank could only whimper and whisper back, me, too.

He rocked back, falling on his haunches, and stared off into nothingness. He sat there, for what must have been half an hour, refusing to cry, refusing to give her the satisfaction, refusing to be beaten, taking all of what he was feeling into his paws and slowly strangling it and packing the chopped up little corpses into littler coffins in his mind, hammering down the lids until all that remained were neat little boxes that he could compartmentalise and file away with the rest of it.

And when he was done, he breathed in deep, stood up, and walked away from the wreckage of his relationship, naked and without any more pretensions as to his exquisite beauty.

The first step was, of course, to find new clothes. The most immediate source was the field gear room, and he supposed it was as apropos as anything else. Any aspirations of a social life, he could now safely consign to the dust bin along with his aspirations of a human relationship, so why not don the garments of the X-Man he was consigned to be and only be? It was more honest that way.

He smoothed down the sides of the buttery smooth, new leather jacket, supposing he was glad that the kevlar-unstable molecule weave that lay beneath its surface meant it wouldn't rip like the tuxedo would.

Supposing so. As an identity, it would do.

The second step was to clean up after himself. Sweep away the glass and the plastic, throw out the broken monitors, order new ones, bill it to the Professor's account. If he questioned it, he could either accept Hank's mumble that there had been an experiment that went awry, or he could tickle at Hank's brain and then recoil because that entire area of Hank's mind probably felt like acid to the touch.

Either way, replacements were on their way.

The third step . . . and Hank was, for the moment, glad that the sub-basement was, in essence, his stomping ground and no-one else's, because that meant there was no-one to stop him . . . was to find the Enquirer story that Trish had mentioned.

He could practically hear Jean in his brain, telling him not to do this; hell, he could hear Scott and Logan in his brain telling him not to do this, and that was how he knew he really was going around the twist, because those two existed in his mind now and they were in agreement.

But he couldn't help it. He had to know.

Sitting down at his chair, he leaned back, his muzzle perched on his paw. His desktop stared at him, and he felt a pang as his wallpaper rotated through picture after picture of old teams, old faces - his, old face.

He hadn't had the heart to change it yet.

The cheerful placidity of his handsome face stared out at him from the cowl of an old brown and yellow X-Factor uniform, and even as he matched the other Hank's gaze, the piercing yellow of his newly lambent eyes shone back at him through the reflective glare of the monitor, replacing the soft blue he remembered.

He shrunk away from it, and instead slid on his digital manipulators, the mechanical prostheses that allowed him to type without fingers. He stretched them, feeling the wire and metal and electrical impulse sensors in the tips flex around his digits, and began to type.

'Enquirer Trish Tilby.' 410,000 results, most of them articles citing her as a source, dating back to the outbreak of strange, seemingly mystical possessions of every day objects and the emergence of X-Factor. Not specific enough. His fingers twitched.

'Enquirer Trish Tilby Hank McCoy.' 290,000 results, the first hundred, at least, of which were simply coverage of their relationship over the years. There, again, was his old face, staring out at him, as if mocking him, entreating him to do what he always did and pursue knowledge, instead of listening to the little voice in his head telling him he was only making things worse. His fingers twitched again.

'Enquirer Trish Tilby Hank McCoy . . .'

He swallowed.

'Enquirer Trish Tilby Hank McCoy bestiality.'

And there it was.

He read it, of course. To not read it would be like leaving an itch on the surface of his brain unscratched for the rest of his life, he simply had to know, and it, was . . . exactly as tawdry and sad and cruel and garish and dehumanising as he thought it would be.

Dehumanising.

Now, wasn't there a word? How. Specific. De-human-ising.

'We do believe all planets have a sovereign claim to inalienable human rights

'Inalien... If only you could hear yourselves? 'Human rights.' Why, the very name is racist.'

The sound of Chekov and Azetbur buzzing in his brain made him feel suddenly, violently angry, and he grabbed his keyboard and mouse and flung it to the side like a child, breathing heavily as he heard them clatter and smash, kicking at his desk and feeling it bend under his foot before he brought up his legs and hugged them.

He wanted to get off the ride. He wanted to get off.

He wanted to get off the ride. He wanted off.

He wanted to get off the ride, he wanted off, he wanted off, he wanted off -

A ragged, injured breath escaped him, and he slowly stood back up, his movements stiff and jagged as he slowly cleaned up the new mess he had made. Hank very gingerly picked up the keys that had gone everywhere, dropping them into the garbage like broken teeth, feeling so very much like he wanted to cry, but refusing to give her the satisfaction. He refused. He refused.

. . . He needed to do something constructive. He needed to. He desperately needed to think about something that wasn't this.

Shambling as if drunk, his body cycling through modes of movement as if trying to work its way back to something that felt vaguely human, vaguely normal, Hank moved back towards his anatomical computer console and called up the last file he'd decided to load into it.

'CASSANDRA NOVA ENTITY. THREAT LEVEL: EXTREMELY HIGH. CURRENT STATUS: DECEASED.'

Large, blue paws settled on the terminal and he leaned forward. Something else, now, was gnawing on the edge of his brain like a worm, and this . . . felt . . . important. What was he missing? What hadn't he done? It had been a little spooky, he'd been a little - frazzled, after Nova had gone stomping through the Institute the way she had done, but he'd done all of the routine checks, hadn't he?

Yes. Yes, he had. Basic autonomic processes, breakdown of homeostatic baselines, blood sample, tissue sample, radiological readings, and all of it had come up appropriately strange . . . no known matches in the Avenger database, nor S.H.I.E.L.D's, nor even the Shi'ar. She was strange. Genuinely strange, the kind of life that they'd never seen before - and its first instinct had been to try and kill them. Why?

Why does anyone try to kill anything?

. . . Because it's threatened? But what could possibly threaten Nova? Telepathy, adamantium, gravity, gunpowder, it had all been so much waste. Nothing had phased her, really. What could phase a being of such awe-inspiring power? Not a physical threat, surely . . .

But what about a mental one? Or. A genetic one? What was it he'd said again? She was beyond the biological Twilight Zone. She was, in a word, uncanny, unknowable. What was it he'd said again? He'd been in the middle of saying something. Not just now, back then.

Hank took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his muzzle, dialling back through his memories, trying to fumble at the moments just before Cassandra Nova had started to touch at his mind and fry his brain. Before can feel too funny bad smell in my eyes . . . what had they said? They had said something.

'This could become a war for the domination of the bio-sphere.'

'They'll be gone, replaced by us. Or something even stranger.'

'How come she looks like you, Chuck?'

Hank's eyes flew open, Logan's voice ringing in his ears.

'How come she looks like you, Chuck?'

"No . . ." And yet, even as he denied it, Hank was cross-referencing the tissue sample he'd taken - and the DNA contained within - with Cerebra's genetic library files. He didn't need it to tell him what it did, but it was trivial, how quickly it returned a result. In an instant. Ping. Done.

'Exact match: Charles Francis Xavier.'

He . . .

He and the esteemed Headmaster needed to have a talk. Now.

So, there is an actual canonical reason why Cassandra Nova fucked Hank over so badly, and it kinda depresses me because it is just so very typical - it's because fucking him over was useful to her.

What better way to make a genius work in your favour? Hurt him. Hurt him so badly that all he can think about is getting back at you by doing something clever, something that will astonish and amaze and redeem his moment of weakness, of humiliation, of abject failure.

Hurt him because that's easy and it's fun and his insecurities make him predictable in how he'll lash out and try to compensate. Hurt him so that he uses his genius for you, and the only thing that stops him from acting in your favour is someone who can see through his neuroses spotting what's going on.

Someone who is paying active attention to Hank's mental health, like Jean Grey.

It's also partly the reason why Hank ended up being the host for Sublime in Here Comes Tomorrow. It wasn't just a case of convenience.

Hank is the perfect Sublime host. Why?

Partly because Hank is constantly evolving. He is mutation in action. He is the biological imperative to adapt and survive.

'Primordial Earth,' huh?

The only other person who would come close is someone like Darwin. And even then, I suspect Darwin wouldn't be as compatible as Hank. Why?

Because Hank is also two other two things that make him the perfect host. A genius - and mentally ill. He is vulnerable. He is susceptible to manipulation. When isolated, he can become desperate. He panics. He becomes emotionally unstable. Irrational. In need of support.

And that's exactly what Sublime wants. That's exactly what Cassandra Nova wants. That's what they find useful.

Hank is soft, and tender, and useful. Unfortunately for him.

[shadowjax]

The Dragon’s Blade

That Beach Episode A03

Natasha Romanoff x reader/oc Oneshot

Warnings: little angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

A/N: This has to be one of my longest fics haha.

*Shares are appreciated* 5k Words

“Pack your things, guys, I just got out of a meeting with Fury and persuaded him into giving us the day off.” Tony paraded into the lounge, Morgan following right behind, dressed like they were ready to go to a tropical island. With the clap of his hands, a video of the beach played on the TV.

“Hey.” Morgan shot Tony an annoyed look and crossed her arms.

“Ok. Ok. This little rascal did all the work with her puppy eyes.” 

“Tony it’s almost noon, any place remotely tropical is hours away. Even by jet.” Bruce was seated on the couch, now annoyed his show had been turned off. He and Vison were in the middle of watching an old sitcom that Wanda had recommended.

“Which is why we’re staying overnight at a condo I just so happen to have bought years ago.” 

“Love the idea but who will take care of the city while we are gone,” Steve commented, who was in the middle of a card game with Vision, Sam, and Bucky. 

“None other than our junior counterparts, of course. C’mon, guys get packing, the jet leaves in two hours.” After scooping his child onto his shoulders, Tony exited the room, their laughter echoing throughout the hallway. Recently the tower had become a bit more crowded with all the newest recruits like Kate, Cassie, and Kamala. 

“Ohhhhh, I love building sandcastles. Now that I think about it, you’ve never been to the beach have you.” Wanda stood beside you while the two of you cleaned up from making the group breakfast. 

“No, I haven’t, it’s on my list of places to take Nat though so this works out. I hope it's too crowded with tourists but knowing Tony we’ll be on our own private sector...” 

After temporarily scarring the newest recruits during your first encounter, you realized it was time to find a solution to heal the scars across your face. The main problem was that while the serum in your veins could heal new wounds, it couldn’t fix the scars from injuries you had before it was injected. Over the past several months, you have undergone a series of procedures with Dr. Lee to improve the appearance of the scars on your face. Although certain scars may still be visible, the once vivid pink marks have now blended more effectively with your natural skin tone. This has significantly reduced their prominence, resulting in a much less noticeable appearance overall. 

“I’m glad to see the scars are healing, the doc sure knows what she’s doing. Speaking of beaches, in my opinion, they are a great place to propose to someone. Say a particular redhead.” Wanda’s eyebrows danced momentarily, causing you almost to drop a plate. “I know you’ve been thinking about it, I can see the pictures playing in your head. You practically project them!” 

“Wanda I know you mean the best, but please. It’s only a thought.” When you were younger, there were numerous things you never imagined yourself doing. Reflecting on those times now, an uncomfortable pit seems to form in your stomach when you think back on the past.

“A thought you have entertained for 3 months and many hours throughout the day.” You glanced at the ring Vision had given Wanda when he proposed. It was well crafted and clearly, Vison spent a lot of time working on the perfect design for her. A while back, you had a conversation with him about how he chose the design and gem for the ring, knowing he was the only one capable of keeping such a secret. 

Dr. Lee placed an arm around both you and Wanda’s shoulders, gently stepping in to join the conversation. “Believe me when I tell you, kid, there is nothing better than knowing you share a special bond with the one you love the most. Knowing only the two of you share this bond, to spend the rest of your lives as equals. Heck, I never thought I’d survive being a war nurse but here I am. Ring and all, with a beautiful woman I call wife.” 

“I think both of you need a new murder show to binge rather than prodding into my life.” Your comment led to a smack on the back of your head from Lee. “Well, when the world isn’t inanimate danger, what does a married woman in her late thirties do with her time, especially when she has a stable, well-paying job?" The conversation quickly ended, knowing neither of them had a good comeback, leaving you last in the dining room though packing wasn’t a tedious task for you.

~~~~

“You’re already packed, for the both of us?” You walked into Nat’s room to find a small suitcase packed, a part of you wondered if she already had this packed because she was planning something as well. “I can’t tell if you already had a getaway planned, not that I am against it.”

“Well someone had to place the thought in Morgan’s head and I knew Fury would cave. Who can say no to her.” She was dressed in mid-thigh denim shorts paired with a white and light blue striped shirt, which had a turn-down collar and was tucked in at the front. The top was left slightly unbuttoned, revealing a hint of a black two-piece bathing suit underneath. 

“My eyes are up here,” she teased with a playful smile. “You’re staring again—everything okay?” She took a seat on her bed, facing you as she gathered her hair and secured it into a half-ponytail.

“Nothing to worry about, I’m just admiring you.” You gently placed your hand in hers to guide her into a spin, then wrapped your arms around her from behind. Resting your head on her shoulder, you took in the pleasant scent of strawberries that surrounded her. 

“Are you sure, you’re behaving clingy?” She placed her hands over yours and squeezed them. 

“Do you think Clint and his family will be joining us?” Ever since the battle and his family returned, he immediately retired which was understandable. Never wanting to be away from them again. He and his family will make an appearance for any holiday events the team hosts together. When Kate first moved in to the Tower, Clint was there to help her adjust and train.

“No, he’s busy with the new livestock on the farm. Last I called he was talking about getting a couple of horses.” She squeezed your hands, “As much as I don’t want to move, we should get on the jet so we can get good seating.”

~~~

On the jet, you tried to catch up on some reading but ended up thinking about what Wanda and Lee said earlier. You could feel Wanda’s stare burning through your soul, knowing full well you were mentally projecting images aloud to her.

“I just realized something, you’ve never been to the beach right?” Nat leaned her head on your shoulder while pointing to the ocean below. 

“Oi heads up kid.” Maria threw something that hit you in the head. Upon further investigation, it was a pair of blue shorts with sharks wearing sunglasses. 

“They’re meant for the ocean so you won’t ruin your clothes,” Nat said in between her laughter. 

“Ooo I almost forgot.” Maria tossed a matching 2 piece outfit on Nat’s lap. Wanda and Dr.Lee tried to hide their laughter while Nat threatened the three. 

The jet landed near a giant condo located just a few miles away from the local tourist spot. It didn’t take long for people to start setting up and diving into the water. Thankfully, you had packed an extra black tank top, although you still felt somewhat exposed with so much of your skin exposed to the blazing sun. You hadn’t realized how pale you were until now. You weren't the biggest fan of sand, it made walking uncomfortable. It made your skin dry and got everywhere. Bits of water sprayed in the air after the waves crashed against the shore, the water was a clear blue. 

You and Nat set up your area close to where the girls had settled, while the guys were already making a splash in the water. Some of them were sporting some matching flamingo floaties around their waists, reflecting one Pepper had Morgan wear when she went into the swimming. You applied a layer of sunscreen, the liquid was cold to the touch. 

“Hey, once you’re done, be a dear and put some sunscreen on my back.” Nat removed her regular clothes, revealing a simple black two-piece swimsuit she was wearing underneath. 

You tried not to stare too much, unable to handle your teammate's teasing about how “head over heels you were”. One of the guys had called you a “simp” before and still to this day you have no idea what it meant, whenever you asked they’d simply laugh in your face. Even the women laughed at your naivete. In all honestly she was beautiful no matter what time of the day, your heart felt like it would leap out of its chest. 

“You’re gonna burn up easily with such pale skin. Let me help you with that.” Bruce transformed into the Hulk moments ago, his hand was big enough to wrap around your entire body and tossed you straight into the ocean. To say your friendship with him was strained would be an understatement. Ever since you and Nat started dating he had become distant, not that you two were ever close to begin with. Neither of you have common interests and with your pitiful social skills, neither of you talk.

“What-”

Your protest was cut short as you fell face-first into the water. Fortunately, he hadn’t thrown you too far into the deep end, and just as you found your footing, a massive wave crashed over you, sweeping you back toward the shore. You could hear the others laugh while you were recovering from the wave knocking you down. Before you were able to regroup with the others on the shore Morgan dragged you into whatever game she was playing with the others and as much as you wanted to kick Bruce’s ass, but were too distracted by whatever game you were being dragged into.

When the sun began to set, Morgan finally set you free. Thor had set up a small bonfire for everyone to gather around. He assisted Pepper in cooking hotdogs and hamburgers over the fire accompanied with some mead that Thor had brought. Maria and Dr.Lee passed around this coconut drink for those who couldn’t handle mead. You sat next to Nat who moved her seat a bit further away from the rest of the group. 

“You’ve fought off some of Earth’s greatest enemies, yet are tiered out by a child.” She failed to hide her laughter. She stopped laughing when she turned to look at your condition. You were covered in sand, your hair was very disheveled, and there were dark lines underneath your eyes. 

“Would you mind if we headed back to the house?” 

Before sitting down you had begun to feel nauseous and the moment you sat down you felt a wave of exhaustion hit you. Maybe it was the spiked coconut drink mixed with the hours of sun, the stress of a proposal, or the sand when you were ready to go to bed. You held onto Nat for balance as the two of you left the beach. Some of your teammates are throwing a mischievous smile your way. You concluded that you hated sand. It makes your skin and hair dry, as well as rubbing in the wrong places under your beach attire. Thankfully Nat helped you out of your outfit while you waited for the bath water to warm. You noticed a difference between the skin that was hidden under your clothes. Once the bath salts dissolved the room began to smell like lilac. Your body melted the moment you were submerged in the water. 

Nat sat on the side of the bath and started to wash your hair. You started to fall asleep while her fingers scrubbed the shampoo in your hair, causing you to lean more towards the side. 

“I may need to get checked by the doctor eventually. I shouldn’t be this wiped out.” The serum in your body usually does a good job of keeping you healthy at all times. 

“I think you just need a good night's sleep.” You started to doze off and the last thing you remember you were being dried off and being tucked into bed. You pleaded with her to return the gesture and help her relax before bed and she reassured you she would be alright. Once you were under the sheets you immediately fell asleep. Nat eventually joined you in bed, wrapping her arms tightly around you.

~~~

You awoke to a gentle light illuminating the room, turning your head to see the clock read 6 am. Vacation or not you knew people would be waking up soon. Luckily Nat was a heavy sleeper so slipping out of bed was easy. You tried to make breakfast, t r i e d. Your mind was a bit preoccupied with the lingering thoughts of marriage. Two nearly burned eggs, untoasted bread, and a few burn marks later you heard footsteps approaching. A bush of embarrassment began to trace your face.

“Soooooo, how’s my favorite birdie doing…making the future wife breakfast in bed I see.” Tony walked right past the mess and started to brew coffee.

“Not you too.” You searched the cabarets for utensils and a tray to carry everything on. 

“Aaaa you’re having a wedding!” Morgan gasped and quickly ran over to you. 

“Calm down sweetie, let the grownups wake up first.” Pepper followed suit and started searching the cabinets for plates as well. 

You knelt to Morgan’s height, “I haven’t asked your aunt Nat anything yet so please keep this to yourself. You wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise now.” Pepper handed her daughter some plates and utensils to help set the table. 

“I’m glad to see my baby bird leave the nest.” Tony turned you around to meet his level, even though he was the taller one. 

“Since when was I ever in the nest?” You could feel your mind becoming more distracted by bird facts instead of the more important topic on hand. “I think I understand what you are trying to say.”

“First a social life, then a girlfriend, now a possible fiancé. It feels like yesterday we rescued you from HYDRA.” Pepper smacked him upside the head with a towel for the last comment.

“I’m sorry, possible.” You gesture with air quotes. Another worry to add to the pile. 

“Hey hey, I see those gears turning. I’ll just take my coffee and go work on something.” Tony made a quick exit, leaving you with Pepper and Morgan. 

“It’s alright to feel nervous, it’s a big step forward. I’m sure she’ll say yes. Also, you don’t need any grand gestures, it’s best to be honest and speak from the heart.” It wasn’t like you were planning on anything big anyway. 

“You make Aunty Natty very happy, I know she’ll say yes.” 

“I appreciate it guys. Now if you don’t mind. I need to go patch up my hands and…” you looked at the pathetic attempt at food you made, “get this upstairs.” 

Feeling nervous means behind all that doubt, a strong part of you wants it. Right? 

—

You quietly entered the shared room and found Nat stretching in bed. “Morning. I’m sorry the breakfast is not up to standards. I didn’t know how to use the toaster so I used the burner then my hands…” You set the tray aside on the bedside table and revealed your injured hands to her. A few blisters were beginning to form. 

“And no one was in the kitchen to witness this?” The two of you made your way to the bathroom, Nat placed some clear gel on your blisters and warped a bandage over them. You sat on the countertop while she patched you up.

“Tony, Pepper, and Morgan walked in after the whole thing. She offered to help but I didn’t want to embarrass myself any further.” You were staring a bit too long, her tangled hair and loose pajamas caused your heart to race. Ever since the battle with Thanos, she’s been more relaxed now that there’s been a new team of heroes to take care of the world as well.

She appears much happier and healthier now. The stress from those five years had affected her both mentally and physically. Her hair is now fuller and more noticeable than ever, and she has chosen to keep it just below her shoulders. Maintaining proper sleep and a balanced diet was challenging at first, but over time, she came to understand their importance. 

“You’re staring again.” You tried to turn your blushing face away but before you could she stopped you by placing a hand over your cheek. She gently rubbed over the scars by your mouth, your head nestling on her. “What’s been on your mind, I’ve noticed you have been spacing out more than usual.” 

“The change in scenery has got me thinking. When I was still with HYDRA, I never thought I’d see the sun. Let alone find people who want me around for more than my skills. I thought I’d be alone until the day I die, like…” Your sobs cut off before you mentioned your sister's name, and guilt washed over. “I’m sorry. Does the guilt ever… go away?” Looking in the mirror became easier but every once in a while, you’d feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. Especially since you’ve let your hair grow out, you were sort of glad the scars would never completely fade. 

“Take a deep breath with me.” The two of you closed your eyes and began the breathing technique Dr.Lee walked through with you. Your right hand fell onto hers which was still placed over your cheek and the other traced the marble countertop underneath you. Nat leaned in, her head resting on your chest and her shampoo filling your scent. Her hair was soft beneath your chin. She wrapped her free arm around your waist, pulling you in tightly while you calmed down. “You’ve escaped. You are no longer in that place.” she quietly repeated. 

“Thanks.” was all you could say, your head resting on top of hers. After you both calmed down, you suggested finding a place for breakfast, admitting that she deserved better than your sad attempt at cooking earlier.

~~~~

You both spent the rest of the day exploring the local town and enjoying some more satisfying food. She was dressed in an adorable strawberry-red summer dress, featuring a pleated neckline that fell gracefully just above mid-thigh. Today, she had let her hair fall naturally, adding to the effortless charm of her outfit. You opted for a more understated look, wearing a simple navy button-up shirt adorned with sailboats, tucked neatly into a pair of black shorts.

You felt anxious about being in a public space, but thankfully, Nat was there to keep you steady.  keep you grounded. As you ventured out, a few derogatory comments were hurled in Nat’s direction. You tried to brush them off and act like they didn’t affect you, even though inside you were seething. You wanted nothing more than to retaliate, to drive your sword into the spine of the man who had practically called you ugly. The insecurity gnawed at you, making you question if you were truly good enough for Nat. The idea of marrying her now feels like a cruel joke, something that could never actually come to pass. The emptiness in your stomach returned with a vengeance, an unsettling reminder of your self-doubt. Thankfully the situation took a turn for the better once Steve and Bucky approached you guys. You weren't able to ignore this lingering, snide remark about how Nat was with one of your friends instead of you, coming off as if they had gotten things wrong. Despite their departure, the sting of their words remained, casting a shadow over your day.

The two pulled you off to the side for a moment. “So Wanda and the doc filled us in on everything.” They both trapped you between them, an arm wrapped around each shoulder. “So for the wedding, can we be the flower guys?” 

“Bucky, that isn’t why we pulled them aside.” 

“Listen, Stevie, Tony didn’t include us, neither did Wanda nor Maria.” 

“Ok is that all you guys wanted to talk about? Because I don’t know if that’s up to me.” 

“No that’s not the reason, Buck. We just wanted to say we’re proud of you. I know we had a rough start but you have impressed me these last few years. On a related note, there’s this jewelry store down the block where you both can make custom rings together. Wanda mentioned you were having trouble picking one out.” The two left, off to do who knows what.

There was still an emptiness in your gut, when Nat placed a hand on your shoulder you ignored that feeling and focused all attention on her. The two of you continued to walk the streets hand in hand. A few hours of shopping later you gained enough courage to ask Nat to check out the jewelry store the guys recommended. The shop was run by a nice elderly couple who were more than happy to help you create a set of rings. You both explored a range of metals and finishes before making your choices, opting to engrave the date of your first date inside both rings. Nat decided on a delicate, thin circular band in rose gold with a polished finish, which beautifully highlighted its elegant simplicity. In contrast, you selected a slightly thicker tungsten band with a satin finish, giving it a more understated yet durable appeal. 

Nat chatted away with the couple while you sat silently, which wasn’t uncommon. You were horrible at making small talk, as much as you like to think you have improved over the past few years. The normal topic about how the two of you met came up and from then on Nat told them an abridged version. She left out the part about the two of you working as “superheroes” and the fact that your job has nearly killed both of you. Instead of listening to the conversation, you found yourself watching Nat. Speaking so openly and freely about something she felt so deeply about, she was mesmerizing. 

“And that’s how we ended up here, it’s sort of a spur-in-the-moment vacation. Although I am glad we were able to take a break, sometimes planning can be so time-consuming especially when our schedules keep us very busy.” 

“You two seem like such a lovely pair, I’m so happy to have shared this moment with you two. Alright, the polish has been set, try them on.” 

Both of you were given the other's rings, you slid the newly crafted rose gold band around Nat’s finger. Markings of old blisters, cuts, and burns scattered all over her hands from her years of battle. Her nails and the skin around her finally healed after the stress she was under during the 5-year blip. Her breath paused for a moment when you slid the band on her finger as if she was holding back a wave of emotion. 

After setting the ring you placed a gentle kiss on her hand, your thumb running over the smooth ring. You weren’t sure how either of you kept your composure, she repeated your actions after placing your ring on. The moment was broken the moment another customer walked in, the bell knocking you out of your trance and back to reality. That worrying pit surfacing again. 

“Natasha, won’t you be a dear and help an old woman out with this order?” The elderly woman led Nat to the back. 

“I can see the gears turning.” The older man leaned on the counter, standing just a few feet away from your face. “The more you overthink, the more you are prolonging the question. I will not charge you anything if you pop the question tonight.” 

“I…” His request felt so sudden, was it really that obvious? If so then there is no way Nat has no idea what is going on in your mind. If so then why hasn’t she brought it up?

“She’s waiting for you, just open up to her and be honest. You’ll feel much better in the end.” His words lingered in your mind far longer than you wished.

~~~

Sometime while the sun was setting on the ocean the two of you were walking along the shoreline. The two of you hadn’t spoken since leaving the jewelry shop an hour ago. While some might find it unusual that you could spend an entire date with so little conversation, it spoke volumes about the deep connection you shared. It was a testament to the comfort and understanding between you, where words weren’t always necessary to feel close. One you had never experienced with another except for…

“So are you finally going to tell me what’s been on your mind the past few weeks? This isn’t your normal silence.” Both of you stopped walking and you turned to face Nat. There was no way you’d be able to hide from her any longer. You had grown tired of patience and dodging the question wasn’t helping you. 

“I-” You were cut off by her phone ringing. 

“Who is bothering me right now…” She took her phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. Before she was able to decline or answer you snatched the phone from her hand. Not bothering to look at who was calling, and declined the call, she didn’t even look fazed by the action. Her eyes widened in surprise while suppressing the urge to laugh at the annoyed look on your face.

“There has been something else on my mind.” you took both her hands in yours, squeezing them. “It’s something Wanda and the doc have been pestering me about.” Your eyes fell to the ground, a wave sinking the two of you into the sand. All of a sudden you became irritated just standing still, your hands began to shake and your legs began to twitch. Nat opened her mouth to say something but let you continue. You found yourself using your thumbs to trace the back of her hands. “Umm. Marriage. So is that something- Would you like that- Umm.” What are you saying?! You quickly dropped your hands and took a step back from her, nervously tugging at the hair at the nape of your neck. “Marry me? Ahh, wait umm. Would you..” before you could dig a bigger hole for yourself Nat threw her arms around you, almost tackling you to the ground. 

Once she gained her footing she pulled you in for a kiss, your hands resting on her waist while hers rested on your face. “I was wondering when you were going to ask me.” She cut you off before you could ask. “I’m a spy, there’s nothing you can hide from me. Plus Wanda isn’t the best at keeping secrets, she isn’t the quietest whisperer. And of course, I’ll marry you, detka.” Your foreheads resting on top of one another.

The tears in your eyes finally began to fall, in happiness of course. For each one that fell she kissed it away. 

“I never thought I’d get here. After all the accomplishments and hardships. All of the sacrifices we made to get here.” You balled your right hand into a fist and made a circle gesture around your heart. “There is no one I’d rather walk forward with.” You took your hand and placed it over your beating heart. 

“Do we really need to return to the condo tonight, I’d rather just stay here with you.”

“Speaking of the others, you know Steve and Bucky want to be flower pals right.” the two of you started to laugh at the thought of the guys throwing flowers down the aisle. 

“As much as I want to see that, I think I’d prefer we do something small and leave the reception for all of our friends.” She kissed you again and you weren't complaining. “Don’t think you need to make yourself uncomfortable with a big ceremony just because I want one. Besides, I’m sure there is a place to get married right here if you want” She whispered that last part in your ear.

“Oh, thank the gods! I was so focused on the ring and asking you that I completely forgot there was a ceremony. And for the wedding, I’ll make sure to present you with a more traditional ring.”

“Hmmm. I don’t need a flashy ring, this one is so unique.” Your face was definitely flushed from all the kisses she showered on you.

“Yes, but I have the past three months researching, hand mining, and polishing many jewels, as well as burning my hands trying to bend metal. Plus I know you’d love nothing more than to flaunt a shiny new wedding ring to all the other women and men in the tower. Speaking of flaunting…” You craned your head to the side and shouted, “You guys can come out!” to the group who hid poorly behind a lifeguard stand. 

Nat knelt down to scoop an energized Morgan into her arms, “I’m so excited for you, Aunty Natty can I see the ring?” The two of you showed the team the rings you two crafted just a few hours ago. 

“Quite the craftsmanship, I’m impressed,” Thor commented. “The boy is finally becoming a man, or in your case… Bruce help me out here.” 

“I’m happy for you guys. Really. I know things have been a bit awkward but the two of you make a great pair.” It was nice to see Bruce not act so cold towards you. 

“You're going to look so gorgeous, I can give you the address of the store I went to!” 

“So did you ask her about it?” Bucky didn’t finish his sentence because Steve pulled him away. 

“A shame I missed out on all the fun.” Tony held his phone to Nat, Clint and his family were on the other line. 

The crowd began to overwhelm you, causing your mind to drift. Thankfully, Nat noticed and announced that the two of you were calling it a night. The sense of emptiness you once felt was now filled with love, not only from Nat but from your entire team as well. You found yourself awake long after Nat had fallen asleep, nestled comfortably against your chest. As you lay there, listening to the gentle crash of the waves on the shore and breathing in the calming scent of strawberries, a deep sense of happiness washed over you. 

Taglist: @rosea-reginae

[kata-sans]

Raising Stripe

Chapter 24

Craig was dead on his feet. Work had been especially tiresome that day due to insufferable customers with faulty cars. Everyone in town needed last minute checkups before hitting the road for Thanksgiving holiday. He was glad to have a long break from work.

After a long day at work, Craig was ready to call it a night but his phone began to ring. He didn't even bother to check the ID on his screen before answering, “Hello…Mom!...Sorry, I didn't mean to not call you. I've been crazy busy a-and…No I don't mean I'm too busy for you I just…Thanksgiving dinner?...Sh**! It completely slipped my mind… No we don't have other plans but… Mom no don't say that of course Tweek and I still care about you…Fine we'll be in Denver tomorrow…Love you too. Bye”

Craig groaned loudly into his pillow. His mom always had a way of making him cave into her requests. He heard his husband snickering by the bedroom door. He threw his pillow in his direction which Tweek easily sidestepped.

“Was that your mom on the phone?” Tweek asked full of mirth as he made his way to his side of the bed.

“We forgot about Thanksgiving plans with my family.” Craig stated with annoyance.

Tweek froze, “What! Craig, how did this happen! Your parents are going to think we don't care about them! GAH! We need to start packing. Good thing we restocked the diapers but we might need extra formula.”

Craig suddenly sat up straight with a shocked look. “Babe! I just realized, my parents don't know about Stripe!”

They stared at each other in silent horror. Needless to say, this Thanksgiving was going to be memorable in the Tucker household.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Laura Tucker was placing the final touches on her famous turkey marinade when she heard the sound of a car in the driveway. She quickly made it to door and saw her son and son-in-law climbing out of their car. Craig noticed her and had a guilty expression on his face.

“Hey Mom. I have a surprise for you. Please don't freak out.” Craig said as he moved to open the backseat.

Laura almost fell down in shock when she saw her son pull out a baby car seat from the car. She let out a shriek of excitement, “Craigory Tucker! Why didn't you tell me! Oh! THOMAS! Come here!”

Craig's father came rushing out at the sound of Laura's shouts. Thomas was surprised when he noticed his wife hovering over the baby carrier in Craig's hands. He joined his wife and clapped his son on the back in congratulations before suggesting moving indoors.

Inside the house, Laura had quickly taken the baby into her arms before confronting the couple about their surprise. “Craig, you brat! Why didn't you tell me about my grandbaby? What's his name? Are you fostering or did you adopt him?”

Craig cleared his throat, “Well umm, it's a funny story. You see, this is Stripe…”

Laura gasped, “You named him after your Guinea Pig!”

“No! The baby is our guinea pig. There was an accident and our friend Kenny turned him into a human baby.” Tweek explained.

Laura and Thomas were shocked. They could hardly believe the baby in Laura's arms used to be a guinea pig. He looked and acted just like a real baby. They spent an hour asking questions about Stripe and soon became comfortable with the situation. Regardless of the circumstances, they were going to enjoy the experience of having a cute baby in the family to dote on.

"Well regardless of how he came to be... Nana has something special in her attic for you." Laura said switching to baby talk when she addressed Stripe.

Laura immediately led the family into the attic. She instructed the men to move furniture and boxes until she found what she was looking for. Finally they found what she insisted on finding and together they pulled out into the living room three boxes labeled “Craig's Baby Stuff.”

Tweek was excited to see the momentos from Craig's childhood. Craig on the other hand was curious but embarrassed by the idea of Tweek rummaging through his baby items. The first box was full of baby clothes. Tweek gushed when he pulled out a tiny set of yellow rain boots. Laura pulled out the matching raincoat and pointed to a photo album in the box. Before Craig could grab the book to hide it, Tweek snatched it and began flipping through the pages.

“Aww. Craig you were adorable. Is this a picture of the raincoat?” Tweek asked as he pointed to the picture in the book.

“Yes, it was a gift from his grandma. He would always insist on going out in the rain just to wear it.” Laura said with a laugh.

Tweek continued to flip through the book until he found a picture of Craig standing next to a Winnie the Pooh mascot. He smirked and showed the image to Craig. “Look what I found.”

Craig frowned, “Burn it!”

Laura rolled her eyes, “Are you still holding a grudge against Winnie the Pooh? Craig that was years ago.”

Tweek perked up, “Is there really a reason he hates that bear?”

“Oh Craig used to love Winnie the Pooh.” She pulled out some toys with the cartoon bear. Stripe immediately reached out to grab the toys and Laura handed them over. “Craig would beg me to buy these for him. You can imagine how excited he was when we went to Disneyland and he met his idol in real life.” Laura laughed as she held up the picture.

“Anyways when Craig was four, we went on a trip to the zoo. Craig was eager to visit the bear exhibit because one of them was named Winnie. When we made it to the bear cave the poor thing was dead asleep. Craig really wanted to see Winnie and he began to shout and tap the glass. The bear was so mad, he charged towards Craig and scared him.” Everyone bursted into laughter while Craig turned red in embarrassment.

“Bears are stupid! That's all!” Craig tried to defend himself from his family's ridicule.

“Oh Craig it's okay to admit bears scare you.” Tweek said as he calmed down.

“I am not scared of a dumb cartoon bear!” Craig said petulantly.

Tweek kissed his cheek, “Sure, babe. Whatever you say.”

Thomas suddenly came into the room with a dusty trash bag. “I found it Laura!”

Laura jumped up with the baby in her arms. “Wonderful Thomas! Pull it out to see if it's still in one piece.”

Thomas nodded and pulled out a flat baby walker from the large black bag. He pulled it open and set it on the floor. Laura was pleased to see the bag had kept it clean and proceeded to place Stripe in the seat.

Stripe inspected his new chair. He noticed a tray full of toys in front of him and eagerly began to fiddle with each one. He had a rolling toy, a squeaky button, and a loop d’loop toy. Stripe was enthralled and began to kick his feet in joy. He ran his fingers through toy enjoying the cacophony of noise each one caused.

Tweek pulled out his phone and began to take pictures of Stripe in his new toy. Laura followed suit quickly snapping pictures of her grandbaby. She grabbed Craig's baby album and turned to a picture of Craig sitting in the exact same walker as an infant. Tweek and Laura compared Craig and Stripes' pictures laughing at how similar they appeared to be. The family enjoyed their time before preparing for dinner.

Ch23

Ch25

[cluelessatthispoint]

Hello hello, im aware that you made a platonic Yandere!engie recently and probably don't want to make another but I can't stop thinking about this idea.

Recently I managed to convince my friend to play TF2 with me and it was...something?? They quite literally spent half an hour trying to "deactivate the smoking" while they played as Spy for some reason and kept shooting at me while they played Engie bc they were trying to get my Spy to stop smoking. It was fun, they got disappointed at the realization but played with me anyways haha.

I was wondering if you could write some platonic yandere!engie with a spy!reader, I just think is a very funny idea for Engie to constantly to try and make them stop smoking is all, specially with Pyro who is nothing but delighted to light reader's cigarettes.

(once again I apologize for bad English from my part and for making an ask about a fairly recent character, hope you have a great day!)

AAAAAHHHH! Yes! YES! platonic yandere Engie gives me serotonin and a reason to live! He is such a weird yandere because of his kindly disposition. THANK YOU! I really like this ask. :)

Warning: Platonic yandere, smoking.

~~~~~~~~

Taking a deep breath, you sigh as you walk through the base. Having won a particularly grueling battle today you could feel some pride well up in your chest as well as a creaking in your bones. It was going to be a rough day tomorrow. Thank goodness it was the last battle of the week. Tomorrow you could rest easy and relax. Thinking about all the plans for tomorrow you smiled to yourself and hummed a happy little tune. The way that the battle was won today was incredible. The soldier did his part phenomenally and you think about how you backstabbed the enemy medic so many times he ended up paranoid around his own teammates. It was a sight to behold. Just thinking about it made you smirk and chuckle slightly.

Just one thing was off....during battle the Engineer on your team kept looking at you. It was weird. It wasn't a mean look or anything...but it gave you the chills. You didn't think he was mad at you. You didn't even do anything to him. As far as you can tell, you both are on pretty good terms with each other. Just the way he acted; it was off putting. Sighing softly, you round the corner and almost bumped into Pyro. The smell of burning and something sweet fills your nostrils. Looking into the gasmask you see your own reflection being reflected back at you.

"Ah, hello Pyro....good job out there today."

He doesn't say a word but holds his hand out with a lighter in it. Flicking the lighter on and off you look at it and let out a small sigh of relief.

"Oh...thank you."

Taking out a cigarette you light the end of it and bring it to your lips. Taking a long slow drag of it you let out a pleased sigh as you feel your body relax. Pyro seemed just as pleased. Clapping his hands together and practically hopping on his toes his happy mumbles break the silence.

Leaning against the wall you and Pyro relax for a while. Pyro looks more to your left and then takes off without a word. You roll your eyes at his antics and continue smoking. Leaning back and closing your eyes you don't notice the sound of someone walking closer until a hand is on your shoulder. Opening an eye you look to your left to see the Engineer.

"Hello Engie...how are you?"

He sighs heavily and reaches a hand to your mouth and plucks the cigarette from in between your lips and drops it on the floor and stomps on it with a huff.

"I hate seein you smoke those things."

You feel your eye twitch, a swell of anger rises within you and you give him a piece of your mind.

"Engie...don't you dare do that again!"

Your words coming out harsher than you liked. The look in his eyes looks dark and hurt...it scares you. Swallowing nervously, you lower your head and apologize softly.

"I-I'm sorry Engineer...I...I didn't mean to-"

He sighs and crosses his arms.

"I hate seeing you hurt yourself this way...If you keep this up, I'm gonna have to hurt you."

His thick Texan drawl mixed with uncharacteristically unkind words made you laugh hard. You look up at him through tears of laughter and stop cold. A pit of dread settles in your stomach...He wasn't laughing....he wasn't even smiling...You looked him in the eyes and freeze. His cold eyes pin you in your spot. Hearing your name being called from down the hallway you took this as a sign and took your chance to escape. You walked away slowly. Leaving Engineer staring after you in the hallway and a feeling of fear in your stomach.

~~~~~

I hope that you enjoy this! I finished my finals and I'm so happy! :)

[insomniac4000]

A pot of Gold Part 1- ChrisMD

I'm posting the first couple of chapters here but please see my Wattpad for all the chapters when they're posted

Mae Murray was a Youtuber who grew up with another Youtuber Ethan Payne. They were close as kids going to the same Primary school, grew apart a little as teenagers but when they discovered they were both trying to do Youtube they struck up a friendship again. Life had been tumultuous for both,  there was Ethan with his weight and his mental health. It was Mae who went out in the early hours searching for him with Tobi, she sat with him for hours calming him down and got him help. In more recent times it was Mae who needed help, she had been with her boyfriend Jack since they were seventeen as they had met in sixth form college. They got engaged at the beginning of 2022 and soon after found out they were going to have a baby. Ethan was also incredibly happy that his kid would also have a play mate but sadly it wasn’t to be. Tragedy struck when in August of that year Mae went into labour four months early, despite best efforts the baby who they named Aria was not strong enough to survive. To add insult to injury further complications from the birth have made conceiving another child difficult. Mae went into herself and was utterly depressed, when she found messages from other women on Jack’s phone she fell off the deep end and ended up needing psychiatric intervention. She spent the rest of 2022 and a couple of months of early 2023 working on herself and getting herself and her life back together, returning to Youtube in March 2023 and releasing well received content since but she still had struggles but managed them for the most part, she was working hard and started to date again while she was contented she wouldn’t say she was completely happy.

Mae had struck up good relationships with all of the Sidemen as well as other Youtubers, when she first returned to the platform everyone rallied around her and welcomed her into their videos as a sign of support. Jack was also a Youtuber but it was obvious where the majority of people’s loyalties were. She was now awaiting her latest appearance which was on The Fellas Podcast to promote her newest venture, a BB3 documentary on child loss and mental health.

She discussed the show and to a point her own story with grace and decorum but when the topic of conversation moved to her Youtube channel she managed to crack jokes like no serious conversation had just taken place, it was a wonder to watch her suddenly relax and smile. 

“Honestly it was the weirdest shoot of my life, I look to my left and there’s a fucking bollock naked Harry,” Mae says placing a hand on each side of her face as she talked about the latest sideman shoot she was out. Freezy and Chip couldn’t hide their laughter as Mae continued.

“I know many women would die to be in that position but honestly not something I needed to see.”

The interview ended and to her surprise there was a lot of clapping when they had wrapped up, it was more noise then Cal, Chip and the producer could make. She looked around to see she had now amassed an audience, people were really keen to hear what she had to say not in a nosey but in a supportive way and as the fellas podcast was recorded in an office which was shared by a lot of other Youtubers so she had a lot of support in the room.

“I didn’t know I had an entourage,” Mae commented slightly embarrassed by the fan fare.

“We’re just proud of you,” Simon commented as he embraced the small woman.

“I appreciate it, but you’ve all got to stop pandering to me sometime, otherwise my head won’t fit through the door.”

“It’ll almost be as big as George’s,” Chris replied pointing to his housemate next to him who gave a ‘hey!’ Mae giggled and hugged the boys each in turn as she made her way down the line.

“How are you feeling? I think I need a break after hearing it, it was a lot of stuff” Cal asked Mae once everything had calmed down.

“I’m okay, some days are better than others when I’m okay I’m happy to talk,” Mae admitted with a small smile. She then felt an arm sneak around her waist and looked to her right to see Chris.

“Some of the boys and I are going to grab some lunch at Nando’s if you fancy it?” He asked, Theo and Harry looked on, they had a suspicion Chris was harbouring a small crush, he had pretty much told them so but Chris wasn’t the kind of person to jump on someone when they were vulnerable so he pushed it out of the back of his mind. Now Mae had expressed an interest in getting back out there; they were surprised he had yet to make a move however.

“Sounds good, talking makes me really hungry,” Mae replied with a small laugh as she looked at Chris, she had to admit she was really loving his new hair and his beard, it made him look older but in a good way. When the first met she assumed he was younger then he was but he had a boyish charm about his looks but he had now grown into a very attractive man.

Overall it was Mae, Chris, Harry, Theo, George and Arthur who went for lunch, they all squeezed themselves into a booth as it was surprisingly busy for a Wednesday afternoon. Mae was inbetween Harry and George Chris was sitting opposite her, the group deciding that the two smallest people should go in the middle.

“All I’m saying is I’ve got more cake than Arthur so I don’t see why I’m in the middle,” Chris complained.

“Shouldn’t be such a fat bastard then,” Theo replied causing the table to laugh.

“Speak for yourself!” Chris retorted as he sat in the seat grumpily. Mae was typing her order in Harry’s phone as he was closest to the counter, as she handed it to George the brunette looked down as he felt a breeze from Mae swinging her legs slightly. 

“Do your legs not touch the floor?” he asked with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Mae snapped as she looked down at them only to see a pair of white shoes opposite her just hovering above the brown floor.

“Do your feet not touch the floor either?” Mae said to Chris causing everyone to look in that direction.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Chris exclaimed banging his head on the table.

“Does your height bother you?” Mae asked now feeling quite guilty in case she had upset Chris. After the break up with Shannon Chris could get a little crabby, he confided in Mae that his depression and anxiety got the better of him a little but he was doing better now. Mae really appreciated Chris being honest with her about his own struggles in a you’re not the only one going through things so don’t be embarrassed way.

“Not usually, I filmed a video yesterday, like a vs 100 models thing and after hearing “you’re short” from about half the women it grates on you a little,” he admitted sounding a little deflated.

“Well if it helps from a pixie to a hobbit height doesn’t bother me,” Mae said in an attempt to cheer Chris up but she did also mean it, Chris was an attractive guy and his height didn’t bother her in the slightest.

“Thanks.” His eyes brightened up slightly as he sat up, Harry gave Theo a knowing look while handing the blonde his phone for his own order.

The group ordered and ate, ice was thrown at one point and some even landed in Mae’s bra which caused a scream and of course that attracted attention to them. Some fans came over and asked for photos causing everyone to squeeze in more in order to get into the photo. There was one photo in particular where it was a group of three needing to all squeeze in so everyone had to get up close. George had an arm around Mae’s shoulders and from the angle it looked like his hand was on her knee but in reality it was simply laying in the very small space between them. The pair could laugh it off, Mae having had far worse rumours and truths out there especially after the year or so she had, and George being perpetually single being linked to a woman could become a big source of humour for him and his content. It was only a rumour.