#sorry just vomiting my thoughts here at 1am

[lara60]

i read through all of invincible only once, all the way back in february, and i'm literally terrified of re-reading it for some reason. i started a re-read a week ago (from around chapter 42) and had to put it down cause i was so overwhelmed you know when you care about something so much that revisiting the canon material just makes you feel like a crazy person ?? ? and its all just too much but you cant really explain why??

i guess the second time reading somehow hits harder because i know the characters well, i have attachments to them (cough thragg cough) and i know all their fates, so scenes that were completely mundane to me on first read now hold so much more weight. idk. im going through it

[spacedikut]

lockdown lovers ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: lockdown!au. spencer goes from expecting his days to be filled with books, books and more books to books, an asshole cat, and a cute anonymous neighbour. 4857 words

a/n: i was so excited about this and stayed up writing it so i hope you like it too :)

masterlist

It’s three days into lockdown when Spencer notices the cat.

It’s a Maine Coon, he recognises instantly, but there’s this distinctive… dead look in it’s eyes. The body is huge – so fluffy it looks like the cat has a mane, ears invariably up straight and large enough that the eyes look beady in comparison. A mixture of white and grey throughout, the cat spends its days lounging across the windowsill of the apartment in the building next to Spencer’s.

He’s fascinated. How can a cat be so big, so ugly, yet so lovely?

He has to know more.

If he was anyone else, he’d argue the obsession is the fruit of going stir-crazy in his apartment. A lack of seeing his friends combined with having to work cases from home would be the perfect justification for Spencer to move his work station to the window facing the cat.

But this is Spencer. He’s happy being stuck home. He just likes the look of the cat.

He spends a good twenty minutes rifling through his stationary to find a piece of paper and the appropriate pen to jot a note for the cat owner. He thinks the owner must be stuck home, too, so if he sticks the note to his window and waits a day, he could know the cat’s name within twenty four hours.

They’ve had plenty of staring contests. Spencer should know his rival’s name.

So he does. He takes his time writing out the words “I like your cat. Do they have a name?” clearly on the paper, then spends a good five minutes deciding where on the window to stick the message.

He decides on the upper left corner. You won’t miss it.

The cat blinks sleepily at him as they watch Spencer tape the question up.

There’s an answer within three hours.

Spencer is too excited to be embarrassed at how enthused he was when he noticed the response.

Or when he saw the name.

Hi there! His name is Mr Darcy :) He’s a dick x

Spencer can’t help but profile the writing, the syntax, the grammar.

The first thing he notices is there’s a feminine lilt to the way you write – you’re a woman, most likely. The writing is slightly messy, indicating high intelligence, and the use of a smiley face and a kiss makes him think you’re younger in age. If you live alone, which you must because you live in a one bedroom apartment, he can safely guess you’re around his age.

And Mr Darcy… you’re a bookworm. At least for romance and the classics.

Spencer likes Mr Darcy. He has so many questions, suddenly, like how is Mr Darcy a dick and how old is he and why does he never seem to move from his position by the window and what is your name and who are you and do you happen to read a lot of books? Like Ray Bradbury? Please say yes.

He shocks himself. Maybe this quarantine is getting to him more than he realises. He hasn’t felt this excited since Maeve.

He hasn’t been this intrigued since Maeve. And the circumstances are similar, he realises.

No. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Spence.

He worries himself into a spiral when he begins thinking about how to reply. As if she can hear his whining, Penelope calls him.

They’ve made it a habit to call one another a lot. She recently taught him how to use his webcam and has been encouraging him to write more on his computer, rather than by hand.

“Good afternoon, my favourite Doctor.” She sings. He hears some shuffling in the background and can tell she’s baking.

“I need your help with something.” He cuts straight to the chase.

Her interest is piqued, “Oh? I am all ears.”

“Remember the cat I mentioned?”

“The ugly-but-beautiful majestic beast that, if you believed in reincarnation, would’ve been a high class gentleman in his past life? Yes. I think about him every day.”

“His name’s Mr Darcy.”

She lets out a screech, a mixture of a groan and moan that is filled with pure glee. “Of course he’s called Mr Darcy! Tell me everything. How do you know?”

He’s clearly impressed with himself when he says, “I asked.”

“Whoa.” Penelope freezes in her kitchen. “Are you, Doctor Germaphobe, breaking the lockdown rules?”

Spencer feels insulted. “No! Never! I stuck a note to my window, like in that viral tweet you sent me.”

She chuckles, “Well, I already told you I could’ve told you everything about Mr Darcy and the owner if you wanted me to. I am incredible.”

“I appreciate the gesture, Garcia-“

“But it’s morally wrong. Yeah, yeah, heard it all before. What have you said back?”

“That’s what I need your help with.”

Garcia is only a little surprised he’s asking her and not Derek. But, then, as much as she loves Derek, he’s a bit too.. much for someone like Spencer when it comes to love. Spencer approaches people gently, hesitantly, often giving the impression he doesn’t even want to be there.

Derek can have anyone on their knees within minutes.

Different tactics, that’s all.

“Alright, pretty boy. How long have you been talking? Purely through window messages? What else has been said?”

“Well,” He begins, clearing his throat, making eye contact with Mr Darcy, “We’ve only spoken once. When I asked for Mr Darcy’s name. You know, studies have shown that animals can form lifelong friendships with other animals, even if they’re not from the same species.”

“Spencer.”

“Most research has focused on chimpanzees, baboons, horses, hyenas, elephants, bats, and dolphins - but there’s no reason to think that friendship is exclusive to these species.”

“Spencer!”

“What?”

“You’ve spoken to them once?”

“Her. Spoken to her once. And it wasn’t speaking, it was writing.”

There’s a long sigh down the phone. “First of all, how do you know the owner’s a girl?”

There’s movement in Mr Darcy’s apartment. Spencer stares. “The way she writes.”

“Uhuh,” Spencer can hear her stirring something through the phone, “And what was the last thing said?”

Spencer’s eyes narrow – is that a person? Is that the owner? Is that her? Oh my god.

“Spencer? You still there?” Garcia looks to her laptop, checking the call is still connected.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. The last thing she said was his name is Mr Darcy and he’s a dick.”

“Oh,” Garcia smirks, “It’s sexy hearing you say dick.”

In normal circumstances, Spencer would register her comment and give a very distinct huh, but he’s distracted.

He sees Mr Darcy meow. A hand appears, petite, with fingernails painted yellow that have smiley faces on them. She brushes Mr Darcy’s fur back, pulling so the skin around his eyes tugs up high and he looks stupid. He seems to like it, though.

She must like smileys, he thinks.

Mr Darcy stands and stretches. He’s alarmingly long.

It’s silent on Garcia’s end, where she looks confused at the sudden silence. She checks again that the call is still connected.

“Spence?”

“Still here. Sorry. I thought I saw her.”

“Oooo,” She’s all giddy, “What does she look like? Is she pretty?”

“I couldn’t see her properly. I can tell she’s too cool for me already. This was stupid.” He sighs, “Forget I said anything. I’ll take knowing Mr Darcy’s name and move on with my life.”

Spencer moves to hang up, but is interrupted by a loud “No!” being shouted at him by Garcia.

“No, Spencer! No! You write something back to her right now and you form a friendship with someone that isn’t one of your colleagues. I love you with my whole heart, and you know that, but it would be good for you to expand your social circle!” She grins and bites her tongue between her teeth, “Aaaand.. this could be the start of a quarantine romance. God, I miss dating.”

At the mention of romance, Spencer visibly flinches. “I’ll see what I can do. I gotta go, Garcia, thanks for calling.”

“Love you. Please marry her so Mr Darcy can be the ring bearer.”

And she hangs up. He’s left contemplating whether he should respond, and what he should respond, as he watches the empty space where Mr Darcy is absent.

It must be dinner time for him.

+++

I’m curious as to how someone named Mr Darcy can be a dick.

That’s a good response, right?

Right?

It lets you know he gets the reference, he knows who Mr Darcy is named after, and leads you to continue the conversation. It’s perfect.

It’s taken him nearly two hours to come up with it. He feels exhausted.

He sticks it on the window, where Mr Darcy has returned to, and huffs out a breath.

He reminds himself to be calm and cool. This is simply a way to pass the time during quarantine, there’s no need to put too much pressure on himself to think it’s anything more or to put more effort than is necessary (he says, after spending two hours formulating a response).

Calm and cool. Cool and calm. Neither are words Spencer would ever use to describe himself.

Spencer stays up until nearly 1am reading. Just before he sleeps, he walks to the kitchen to get some water, and can’t resist checking to see if you’ve responded.

You have. He ignores the way his heart speeds up.

He used to share the windowsill with my other cat and a bunch of plants. Now he bites anything that attempts to move near him. He also likes to vomit on my pillow. My single pillow.

Spencer chuckles as he reads it. He remembers when the window was full of plants, and how one day they all just… disappeared. He assumed the person moved out, but now it’s funny to think that you had to move them all because Mr Darcy demanded he own that space.

He doesn’t recall ever seeing another cat.

Well, now he has to respond. He needs to know about the other cat!

He imagines Derek coming to him in an apparition, like some sort of angel, and saying, calm and cool, kid. Calm and cool.

Spencer decides he’ll reply in the morning. Cause he’s calm and cool, and totally doesn’t want to know anything and everything about you and the two cats you live with.

+++

The messages continue for days. Spencer learns a lot, despite his “attempts” to not profile you (“attempts” as in there was really no attempt).

He learns you were given Mr Darcy by a friend, he’s two years old, and your other cat is the recently adopted, affectionately named Stupid Sally. She’s a ginger cat, estimated to be at least four years old, and you refuse to believe there’s anything going on in that tiny head of hers.

Spencer catches a glimpse of Sally a couple of days after he learns her name. She jumps up beside Mr Darcy, bonks her head on the window, then is whacked by Mr Darcy and falls from the windowsill. Sally doesn’t make another attempt.

He still hasn’t seen you, though. The longer he talks to you, the more he wants Garcia to send him everything she can find on you.

But he has restraint. And fear.

He wants to know more, wants to learn more about the anonymous girl in the opposite building. He doesn’t even know your name, and he assumes you don’t know his, and he’s not entirely sure what number apartment you live in.

He considers asking to convert your conversation from post-it notes on windows to hand-written letters, but that reminds Spencer too much of Maeve and he can’t handle that.

Do you know how difficult it is for Spencer Reid, with all his knowledge and facts and ramblings, to limit himself and how much he says?

It’s torture.

The sun is blinding when Spencer pulls his curtain back, eyes navigating to see if there’s a new message waiting.

I haven’t asked, do you have any cats? Any pets? Mr Darcy would be a terrible boyfriend but Sally could use a lover :)

Before he can stop himself, his mind is whirring with the possible implications of your message. Does this mean you want to meet? You want to know about him as much as he wants to know about you? You’re interested?

He needs to call Penelope. He wants to talk to you so badly, learn everything there is to know, but he can’t bring himself to do it. The situation reminds him of Maeve and, although it’s been so long, he’s still mourning. He’s not sure he’s ready.

Turns out he doesn’t need to worry. You’ve got your own plan.

+++

“So,” Your friend sighs, flopping onto the couch, “You got his number? His name? Anything?”

“No,” You pout, “Not even sure he’s a guy.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

You playfully gasp. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but I am insulted.”

She chuckles. She knows all about your curious neighbour - she’s the one that encouraged you to reply and keep replying. And now she’s the one trying to convince you to form an actual friendship.

“Just put your number on your window.”

“Do you know how dangerous that is?!” You scold, “Anyone could see it!”

“Yeah, but neighbour guy could see it. And text you. And be really cute.”

You can’t help but glance behind you, into your bedroom window, where the infamous window is. Mr Darcy lounges, completely zonked out with the sunshine keeping him warm.

“What’s the worst that can happen? Some random people text you and you, what, block them? That’s it. Easy.”

Life is so easy for extroverts, you think.

You grab your notebook, rip a piece out and jot down your number before you have a change of heart. You’re essentially double messaging through the medium of your window messaging. But who cares?

What have you got to lose?

+++

Spencer stares at your phone number for way too long. Mr Darcy, as if sensing Spencer’s battle, lazily lifts a paw and rests it against the paper, pushing it into the window.

Spencer dials Penelope’s number straight from memory.

“I was beginning to think you’d died, Spencer-“

“Is it a terrible idea to start texting with Mr Darcy’s owner?”

“What?!” She exclaims, “No! No no no no no! That is an incredible idea! Spencer, please tell me you’re texting her!”

Penelope’s excitement gives him a rush of confidence. She’s always so supportive, so encouraging. Penelope is the best.

“I’m staring at her phone number. I just- we know what happened last time..” He trails off, voice meek. He wants to pretend he isn’t constantly thinking about the worst outcome, but he is. He’s scared.

Penelope’s voice is soft down the phone, “Spence. You have nothing to be afraid of, okay? I’m so proud of you for even considering texting her. But if you truly think you’re not ready, maybe you’re not. But remember, this doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to. You can keep the conversation to cats and cats only.”

Spencer smiles even though she can’t see him. She’s right. It doesn’t have to be anything and, honestly, it’s likely it won’t be anything – after all, Spencer isn’t exactly confident when it comes to women.

She might also have a boyfriend. A husband. A wife. He doesn’t know.

He realises he’s started thinking way too deep about someone he doesn’t even know the name of.

“Does that silence mean you’re gonna text her?” Penelope questions, suspense and hope clear in her voice.

“Yeah,” He replies, glancing at Mr Darcy, “I am.”

+++

[To: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: Hello. I’m Spencer.

[From: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner] hello??????? do i know a spencer?

Embarrassment flushes through him. What a weird way to introduce yourself, he chastises himself, Great first impression.

[To: Mr Darcy and Sally’s owner]: Sorry. I’m the one that’s been asking about your cats through the window.

[From: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: really? prove it

He wants to feel insulted that you’re so suspicious, but is simultaneously impressed that you’re so cautious. It makes sense to worry after posting your number for anyone to see.

[To: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: Of course. I’ll put a note on my window with my number now.

He does just that, shuffling quickly and frantically like he does when his mind is moving a thousand miles a minute during a case. He slaps the note against the window, unable to resist hovering on the off chance he spots you.

His phone buzzes.

[From: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: oh hi spencer! im Y/N, owner of Mr Darcy and sally :)

He can’t help but chuckle at the sudden change of tone. You take stranger danger seriously, it seems.

Why does he find that so endearing?

He’s getting ahead of himself, again. Calm and cool.

They pick up the conversation from where the last note left off, where you asked Spencer if he has any pets of his own. He finds it much easier to talk to you like this, rambling and all, which you don’t seem to mind. Your texting style is distinctively different to his, making his phone vibrate multiple times as you send each sentence of your message separately. He prefers writing chunks full of information, all with perfect grammar and punctuation.

You teach him what ‘wtf’ means and when he sends a meme to Penelope with that caption she loses her damn mind.

She decides she loves you there and then.

A friendship blossoms. It’s odd, he doesn’t know what you look like and you admit to catching a glimpse of him when he showed you his number through the window, but other than that you have no idea what the other looks like.

You know so much about eachother’s lives, though, and so much about eachother. You know which apartment you both live in, he’s got a whole list of reasons why Mr Darcy is a dick and he kind of agrees, you even know that he’s an FBI agent.

Then it happens.

He discovers what you look like.

He wants to play it off as an accident, he really does, but that would be a complete and utter lie.

The area under the window opposite yours has become his new sanctuary. He spends way too much time there, reading and whatnot, and he tries to pretend that it’s so he can watch Mr Darcy all day every day, but there’s always been a part of him that wants you to walk by. Maybe stop right in the centre of the window, pause, let him get a good look.

That’s exactly what happens.

He’s doing some “light” reading before he moves to his bed, where he will continue to read, and he sees the main light in your bedroom switch on. You always have a light on – you’re scared of the dark, just like him, but the main light catches his attention because Mr Darcy looks back and meows.

Someone’s in the room.

For some reason, he can’t tear his eyes away. It’s not the first time he’s noticed someone flutter around the room, never managing to really show themselves. It could the best friend you told Spencer about, the one that you’ve been stuck living with the past month or so.

But it’s not.

A girl appears, wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts with still-wet hair. She dangles a cat toy before Mr Darcy, which he swipes at twice, then looks away, uninterested.

She rolls her eyes at that, then starts dancing and mouthing along to a song Spencer doesn’t recognise. Now he can’t stop staring – she’s captivating, whoever she is, as she prances around her room, arms flailing around and serenading a very unimpressed Mr Darcy.

This has to be you, he thinks. He doesn’t know why, but this has to be you.

Your passionate singing dies out. It’s the end of the song. Before the next one can begin, you happen to look up and through the window, straight at Spencer.

And you disappear.

You collapse. You definitely scream a little, dramatically falling to the floor and hiding under the window with your back to the wall.

Holy shit. You think. He’s cute and he saw me singing to my asshole cat.

He must think I’m crazy.

Spencer keeps staring at the now empty space of your window, Mr Darcy having been spooked by your exit.

He thinks he might be in love.

+++

Neither of you know what to say to one another after what transpired.

You’re too embarrassed, Spencer feels a little star-struck, and you’re both speechless.

Neither of you expected the other to be so.. attractive.

Your phone is thrown in your lap. “Do it. Do it now.”

In a daze, you blink up at your friend, “I can’t.”

“Don’t make me threaten you.”

You blink.

“I know where he lives. I will obliterate the lockdown rules to go talk to him and drag him here, then you can deal with this face-to-face.”

Your mouth falls open. “Are you insane?”

She unlocks your phone, opens your conversation with Spencer, and places it in your hand.

“Yes.”

+++

[From: Y/N :)]: did you at least enjoy the performance…..

Spencer’s whole body prickles when he sees you’ve texted him.

Maybe Penelope’s manifesting did work.

[To: Y/N :)]: I did. I didn’t expect our face reveals to be so…

I honestly don’t know what to say.

[From: Y/N :)]: s doctor reid speechless? am i that talented?

Spencer lies back on his couch, beaming at his phone like a teenager in a cheesy chick flick.

[To: Y/N :)]: You’re very talented. Mr Darcy clearly disagrees, but don’t listen to him.

And just like that, you’re back in the flow of things.

+++

When July rolls around, you and Spencer have been talking every day since March. Despite the monotonous, repetitive days, Spencer wakes up giddy when he sees you’ve texted him. He usually wakes up earlier than you, you have a habit of playing games or watching television until the early hours of the morning, and he loves to send you a fact to wake up to.

Your favourite are the animal facts. He got Amazon Prime just so he could buy a plethora of animal books and watch animal documentaries. All for you.

At one point, you evolved to phone calls. They don’t happen often and the first one was while you were drunk, but they’re fun for the both of you.

It had been a Saturday, you and your friend were having a movie marathon with wine and of course she brought up Spencer. She choked on her drink when you told her you haven’t heard his voice or seen him since the incident.

“You should call him,” She slurred, “Tonight.”

“He’s working on his jigsaw. I’m not going to interrupt.”

She gave you this incredulous look, asking Really?

“What?! I have respect for him and his jigsaws!”

“Have respect for yourself and how cute he is!”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

She sighed, placing her glass on the coffee table with a clunk, “Picture this: you’re helping him with the jigsaw.”

You couldn’t hide the slight upturn of your lips at the thought. You both love jigsaws, doing one with him would be stupidly romantic to you.

“Yeah.” She nodded ridiculously, “That ain’t gonna happen if you don’t call him!”

In your drunken state, you realised she’s right. You called him that night for a total of ten minutes before you passed out after calling him super handsome.

You both went to sleep feeling warm inside. Spencer called you again the next day, where the call lasted nearly two hours, and it went from there.

But now the lockdown rules are being eased. People are going back to work, meaning establishments like restaurants and hairdressers are opening up with limited capacity, all breathing beings expected to wear a mask.

Neither of you have mentioned actually meeting one another. You’re too nervous. What if he doesn’t like you? What if the image he’s created of you in his head is way better than you are in real life and he’s disappointed? What if he doesn’t want to meet you?

Spencer worries about the exact same things.

So neither of you say anything.

+++

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes Spencer’s mail gets sent to the wrong address. Perhaps to his neighbour, the person living across the hall, or someone on a completely different floor.

Twice, Spencer’s mail has been delivered to the apartment building next door. The building he now exclusively calls “Y/N’s building”.

Now it’s three times.

Unphased by the mask on his face, Spencer glances around the lobby of your apartment building and wonders what your routine is when you get home. Do you immediately check for packages? Look at the noticeboard? Or do you go straight up to your apartment?

Spencer walks to the reception desk, smiling politely even though the person can’t see it.

“Hi, I’m from the building next door. I think my mail was accidentally sent here?”

He clicks a few buttons, types a few things, then flippantly asks, “Apartment number?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Let me go get it.”

He takes his time leaving his chair and wandering through a door. Spencer glances around. There’s a few people, all wearing masks (Thank God), doing their own thing.

There’s two girls next to him. He eavesdrops, because he’s bored.

“I’m too used to living with you now,” The girl facing him pouts, “I don’t want to go.”

The girl with her back to him laughs, light and sweet, “You live a block away.”

“You know Sally is gonna miss me.”

Sally? As in…

“She’s gonna miss you only because you feed her too much and now she’s fat.”

Wait.

“C’mon, Y/N-“

Spencer blocks out the rest cause holy hell. You’re right there. You’re standing right next to Spencer, in all your glory, and you have no idea that he’s right there, too.

Should he say something? Should he introduce himself? Should he..

“Here, sir. My apologies for the mix-up.” The receptionist re-appears, handing Spencer his mail.

“Thank you.”

And Spencer leaves.

Except he doesn’t.

He stops outside the reception entrance, takes out his phone, and texts you.

[To: Y/N :)] This is weird but I’m right outside your building. I think you’re in the foyer and I’m too scared to approach you.

Two minutes pass before the building doors fly open.

Your head swivels back and forth. When you find Spencer, adorable and awkward Spencer, he can tell you’re grinning from the way your eyes bunch up under your mask. God, he knows you have the most beautiful smile. Everything about you is beautiful.

“Hi,” You breathe.

Spencer mouths a silent hi. You’ve taken his breath away.

“I-um. It’s good to see you in person.” Your voice is soft. It’s soft, and smooth, and so much prettier in real life. It’s already pretty through the phone, but the real version shoots straight to his heart.

He gulps, “Yeah, it’s.. Unexpected, but nice.” The corners of his mouth quirk up and he can’t tear his eyes away from you, “You’re even more gorgeous in real life.”

The compliment rolls off his tongue naturally because it’s true and from the second he spotted you he’s lost all logical thinking.

“I am?” You ask, gentle and hesitant, almost asking are you sure you mean me?

Spencer blushes, somewhat embarrassed by his confession. But he meant it, Spencer’s not the type to say things he doesn’t mean, and you don’t give him time to regret it-

“Would you like to get some coffee? If you’re free now?”

Would it be too much if he screams Yes?

“Yes. I’m free,” He ignores the mail in his hands, stuffing it in his satchel, “But let’s avoid Café Nero, I assume you still haven’t recovered from the nightmare latte you had there.”

You grin, which makes Spencer feel fuzzy, flattered that he remembers anecdotes from your texts.

Of course he remembers. You remember he has an eidetic memory.

You shyly brush your hair behind your ears, both sides, and Spencer spots the bright red of them. You’re flushed, just like him, and it fills him with confidence to know you’re the same mixture of excited and anxious about meeting him in person.

“W-what about your friend?” Spencer gestures vaguely to where he assumes she’d be, “Would she mind?”

“She’s the reason I ran out here, so… I think she’d be mad if we didn’t leave her behind.”

You smile at one another, a few feet apart. Spencer’s bumped into by the opening door of your apartment complex and stumbles, apologising profusely to the unimpressed woman that just stares at him.

Through the entire ordeal you watch Spencer, only him, and can’t stop the radiant, love-filled look on your face.

Maybe Mr Darcy isn’t such a dick when he’s the reason Spencer came into your life.

[scone-lover]

Happy Birthday to Holding Out For a Hero!!! ❤️

art by @subparselkie

I published the first chapter of my longest and most popular fic just about a year ago! And I bet you always wanted to see some shitty outlines. Right? Just giving the people what they want. My brain is chaos and now you all have to be subject to it. Strap in, boys. 😂 Everything’s below the cut!

Read Holding Out for a Hero on AO3

This fic was born because I saw a tumblr post about a hero and villain who are roommates and I just had to Snowbazzify it. I had so many random ideas in my brain, and I’d been engaging with fan content for the CO fandom for a few months now.

So I started off by opening a blank document and writing the Prologue, featuring Shep. I had a few basic facts in mind: Shepard’s a reporter, Simon’s a hero, Baz is a villain, Mage is an evil mayor. And that’s. Literally it. I made it up as I went along. I actually still do that with fics, even though I do try to outline in more detail now—I have to write a scene or two that’s been bouncing around in my head to get a feel for the story, then I can give it a direction.

The document is 337 pages on google docs, LOL. 

Here’s the first ever set of notes I had. I wrote this on March 29, 2020, directly after typing out the Prologue! 

Like I said, absolute chaos. The third Simon bullet point originally said something like “also I’m a superhero and only Penny knows,” then the following day I changed it to “but he’s so handsome? what do???” 

I didn’t publish the prologue until writing 5-6 additional chapters, but I think the only major change was going from Baz being “The Vampire” to just “Vampire.”

Chapter 1 was originally called “not a bloody avenger” before I decided to do the rhyming thing. I actually decided that because I wrote “counter spray and earl grey” down for chapter 2, unintentionally rhyming it, and then @ashspren-writes was like, “you should make them all rhyme”... so I did. 😂 For 25 more chapters.

I have a section labeled “quickie backgrounds” in which I finally sat down halfway through writing Chapter 2 (the blade/vamp fight) and said to myself, okay, maybe they should have backstories or something. Or like, reasons for being the hero and villain. Right, yeah, those would be good to make this into a coherent story. In the first version of that, Simon was a sports coach on the side, not a baker, and Baz was an English teacher. LOL. 

Once I had all that, I literally just wrote for four days. There’s a weird kind of magic to your first-ever fic for a fandom. All your ideas and thoughts and wishes for these characters comes to a head as you suddenly have an outlet for the first time. It’s why I think people’s first works are often their best or most creative or most profound. The first couple chapters took some time and a couple 1am epiphanies, but once I got into a rhythm it was quick going. I wrote a lot of it in a linear manner, but after writing the first Simon/Baz scene (watching the news together in the flat), I doubled back and added Simon going to Penny’s house after meeting the Mage so that I could work her in as a character earlier.

Fast forward to April 5, I had 5-ish chapters written? I thought this fic would have like... 10 total. And be less than 20k. Haha. Ha. I asked @ashspren-writes to beta read for me - I’d been bouncing ideas off her since the beginning - and then I started brainstorming titles. 

The list actually started with that second one. It took a whole 24 hours to decide on the final title. 😂 I thought it might be too cheesy. But hey, it worked out -- now I can’t open AO3 without the damn song getting stuck in my head. 

I worked a LOT with my friend @ashspren-writes on this fic - we were friends long before fandom, and she was the only person I knew at the time who had read CO and was involved in the fandom. I didn’t even have a tumblr at this point, I interacted mostly through Instagram and AO3!

On April 6, right before I posted, I realized that if I was going to actually put this on AO3 I should probably know where the story was going. So I made sure Chapters 1-6 were complete, then I wrote one bullet point per chapter up until 12 or so -- you can read those below.

Then I texted ashspren THIS mess:

Some silly notes:

Then I have a section that says “Why do they even have roommates?” because it was a few chapters in and I hadn’t justified richboy Baz and superhero Simon... living together. Cool cool cool

I also did this cool little writing experiment I want to share. Remember that line in Fangirl that’s like—“Once Cath wrote what she thought was a swordfight, and Wren turned it into a love scene.” (Or maybe it was the other way around? LOL.) Anyway, there’s swordfights in this, AND love scenes, so I wanted to do a play on that for two alternate ways Simon might figure it out.

I have a huge Deleted Section in which I wrote an alternate version of Simon and Baz finding out about their secret identities. I have one version where Baz figures it out first—it’s a very tropey yet angsty scene where Simon comes home totally wrecked from a fight, and Baz realizes as he’s helping with the wounds that he caused them. I actually like it a lot, but it ended up not quite fitting with the vibe of the fic (and I rather like them finding out through kissing better). :) I also had an idea where Simon figures it out because Vampire smells like cedar and bergamot, but it really just wasn’t interesting enough. 😂

Now onto... Outlines. 

I say that hesitantly because I think these are literally a disgrace to outlines everywhere. These are the baby ones I wrote on April 6 right before posting. Some are more detailed than others, clearly...

Gotta live up to my username somehow. 

We do love to see it. ​

I love this next one: 😂 CHAOS, SCONEY.

THEN, I wrote this as a very long text to ashspren, when I realized no sconey, this is not going to be under 20k words. LOL. 

And then I did A Dumb Thing and I put it on AO3, having absolutely NO CLUE WHERE THE STORY WAS GOING. 😂 

This is my favorite heading on the document.

Another one of my favorite notes in there.

This next part wasn’t even divided into chapters yet, it’s just a word vomit. I’m so sorry you have to read this mess.

Hahaha, once upon a time there was angst in this story. 😂 

And then I realized my true calling: bakery fluff.

Then and only then, I actually decided to divide into those things called Chapters. This is the point where I made the admission to mr scone (boyfriend, not husband lol, we just call him that) that I write gay fanfiction, whoops, and can he please help me because he’s a HUGE DC comics fan and knows everything. And of course, he was super chill about it, and he did. He really did. He’s the genius behind Egghead!!! And also the entire Mage-Humdrum-Supercomputer/Politics plot. I’m serious. I did none of that.

I can’t even say I’m trying anymore. “Flort”??? I AM LITERALLY NOT TRYING.

Why yes sconey, so very specific. 😂 

This is what qualifies as a “good” outline for me, that heading was just for my betas. Isn’t it fabulous to see that some of this actually made it in and I’m capable of planning in advance? 😂 

Get ready for the shock of your life, though -- I actually have a SUUUUPER detailed outline for the two finale chapters. Because, well, it’s the finale. Wrapping up loose ends does actually require planning, WHO KNEW. Also I’d been writing and posting for a couple months at this point and it had been several more weeks in quarantine so maybe I’d regained some sense of reality? It’s like two pages but still shittily written, so I’ll just share a couple tidibits.

That bullet point is extraordinarily cracky BUT actually, Baz shooting up from the cloud like an awesome fucking hot dramatic person was one of the very first scenes I envisioned for this fic :D 

I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into my writing brain! It’s a terrifying place. I love all of you that say Holding Out For a Hero is a well-crafted masterpiece, but respectfully, no ❤️ 

(Though I swear I AM super, super happy with how it turned out - it’s still my favorite thing I’ve ever written. Read it here!!!)

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

Annus Mirabillis~Happy Birthday 2020

Series Masterlist

Summary: You and Peter Parker have been friends since the day you met. But when he opens his mouth and tells people you’re dating, even though you aren’t, you decide to go along with it. What’s the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: drunken behaviour, mutual pining (hehe), some angst, mentions of vomiting

Word count: 2k

A/N: I’m sorry this is so late but I started teacher training and it’s been crazy. I really liked writing this one though and being able to write again felt really good so I hope you all enjoy. Also this is being posted at 1am and I’m overtired so. I’m reblogging with my taglist tomorrow. If you’d like to be added to the taglist for this story just send me or @thinkoutsidethebex​ an ask!

“How about this one?” 

Ned groaned and rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Him and Peter had been in their dorm all morning with Peter rambling about a plan to get you back after the carnival. He was like a love-sick puppy and it wasn’t until Ned had reminded Peter about MJ’s party for you that he actually smiled. Ned laughed when Peter actually said the word “Eureka!” 

Since Peter had formed the plan in his mind to go to the party, he’d been trying on every piece of clothing he owned to see if it looked right. Even though Ned told him all of them looked fine, Peter didn’t believe him.

“Dude you look fine. Now can we go?” Ned sighed, already moving to get up and hoping it would encourage Peter to leave with him. “We have class in 30 minutes and I’m not being late again.” 

Peter nodded but Ned could tell he wasn’t really listening. He pouted his lips much like a sad puppy and mumbled, “Just fine?” 

Ned gave another sigh and started to push Peter towards the door. Sometimes it was all he could think of to do to get Peter to stop overthinking and 90% of the time it worked. 

“What do I buy her?” Peter tapped his pen on the desk, his work for class long abandoned and instead it had turned into a list of suitable gifts for Y/n. 

“Pete-” Ned felt his patience waning more and more by the second. 

“I just mean we’re not together anymore you know? Isn’t there some kind of rule or something? Then again I am trying to get her for real this time...” Peter rambled, his mind racing faster than his mouth. He didn’t even realize what he said until Ned questioned him.

“For real?” 

Peter blushed as he realised what he’d said. “Oh um I meant-” 

Ned gave him the sideways glance, suspicion written on his face as Peter turned redder by the second. Luckily he was saved by the class ending, but Ned still seemed confused. 

The next few weeks passed by quickly and Peter’s overthinking only got worse. When the night of the party arrived, he was a nervous wreck to say the least. He’d changed his outfit, second questioned the gift he’d brought for her, called May for advice and practised what he’d wanted to say in the mirror. All of which he’d done at least three times until finally MJ texted him. 

Get your butt over here. The party is starting.

Peter gave a small laugh and took a deep breath, glancing once more in the mirror before heading to the party. 

MJ had taken over the room for the party with banners and balloons everywhere. A snack table was laid out in the center and looked like a pack of wild dogs had already had their way with it. The air hung heavy with the smell of sweat and alcohol, which could only mean one thing. 

“PEETEY!” 

Before Peter had taken more than two steps into the room, a pair of arms had thrown themselves around him. He quickly realised it was you and chuckled softly to himself. 

“Hey, birthday girl.” You pulled back from the hug and smiled wide at him. It only took one exhale of your breath near his face for him to tell you were absolutely plastered. “Having fun?” 

“Yes!” You exclaimed, your eyes as wide as your smile. “I’m so glad you’re here.” 

You pulled on the sleeve of his jacket and hummed happily before reaching up to squish his cheeks with a thoughtful expression. You stayed like that for a moment before bursting into a giggling fit. Peter laughed with you and shook his head as your eyes glanced down to the flowers and present in his hand.

“Are those for me?” You pouted and gazed at him. Peter nodded and blushed, holding them out for you. “They’re so pretty!” You smiled wide and smelled the sweetness of the flowers before opening his gift. 

Peter bit his lip as you opened the box inside to reveal a stunning necklace that reflected in the glistening color of your eyes. It was silver and had a small heart charm engraved with your initial on it. Worry crept into his chest when you remained speechless and he started to chastise himself in his head. He knew it was too much. Why had he made such a stupid choice?

“Peter I-” 

He prepared himself for the worst before feeling your arms wrap around him once more. The hug felt tighter and carried more meaning with it then before. Peter smiled and relaxed into you, hugging you back. 

“Do you like it?” He asked for reassurance as you pulled back.

“I love it.” You nodded, suddenly feeling slightly more sober than before. Peter offered to put it on for you and you smiled, turning so he could. His fingers brushed against your neck as he fastened the chain, sending a feeling of electricity down your spine. Peter blushed as he felt it too before quickly clearing his throat and stepping back. 

“You look- I mean it looks beautiful.” Peter stammered, his cheeks bright red even in the dim light of the common room. You blushed at his compliment and giggled, already holding onto the heart shaped charm with a smile. 

For a moment, the entire room seemed to still. Despite the heavy crowd and blaring music, something shifted and it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room. Peter felt a blush creep over his face as you exchanged giggly smiles, but before he could speak someone screamed “SHOTS!” The music suddenly blared in both of your ears again and you grabbed Peter’s hand, dragging him in the direction of the bar.

He decided to stick with lemonade which made you give him a little pout. You offered to pour it for him, taking the container in both hands and set your tongue between your teeth in concentration. Peter chuckled when you missed the first time, shaking his head and reaching out. 

“Here, let me,” he said with a smile. 

“No, I got this!” you protested, squaring your shoulders with determination.  Half the container ended up on the floor, but by the end Peter had at least a half full glass.

“I told you!” you shouted triumphantly. “I’m great at this. I should be a bartender.” He rolled his eyes and said nothing, taking a drink as you turned back to the bar.

Peter watched tentatively as you downed shot after shot and had even more drinks until he was sure you couldn’t see him properly. You spun and giggled and danced with your friends and Peter just watched you with a smile. He loved seeing you so carefree, even if it was only because you were drunk. You faded further and further into drunken oblivion, eventually tripping over your own feet and falling to the floor. 

“Oh my god! Y/n, are you okay?” Peter panicked, leaning down to your level on the floor and brushing the hair back from your face. You blinked up at him and stared for a moment before bursting into drunken giggles. He sighed softly and helped you up into the nearest armchair before going to grab a glass of water but he was stopped short by MJ. 

“Peter, I need your help.” 

He blinked in surprise, he had never heard MJ utter those words to him before. “O-okay, what’s up?” 

“This party is out of control,” she groaned. “Someone said the cops are on their way and I need to get people out. Can you take Y/N back to her room and keep her there? I don’t want to ruin her birthday.” MJ glanced over at where you were slumped down in the armchair, pouting. Peter nodded in agreement and looked around. He had been so preoccupied watching you he hadn’t noticed the party getting a little wild. Two people were wrestling around in the corner and a gaggle of girls were sobbing in another. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said finally. “Do you need any...you know...super help?” MJ rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Not every problem requires Spider-Man,” she said. “Just grab Y/N and get her out of here. Please?” Peter was surprised at the sincerity in MJ’s voice, so he just nodded. She nodded back and turned quickly, yelling at the men fighting on the floor.

Peter turned to look back at the armchair where he’d left you, but you were gone. He hurried over to the chair and looked around, wondering where you could have gone so fast. The crowd of people had started to move toward the door, making it that much harder to find you. For a second he thought about just jumping onto the ceiling to get a better view, but surely even drunk students wouldn’t ignore something like that. 

“Y/n?” he called, walking through the hall. He made his way into your room and that’s when he heard it; the unmistakable sound of dry heaving. He quickly walked into the bathroom and knelt by your side, one of his hands rested on your back rubbing gently and the other held your hair back as you hunched over the toilet. 

“It’s okay, I’m right here.” Peter reassured, scrunching his nose up a little from the smell and sound but he stayed by your side as he promised until you finally sat up. He wiped away the smudges of your makeup and smiled softly, helping you up and getting you to brush your teeth at least a little bit.

Peter managed to get you into something comfortable for sleeping and eventually into bed after many giggling fits. He shook his head fondly and giggled with you, making sure you were comfortable before he got up. Your giggling quickly stopped and turned into pouting.

“Where are you going?” 

He stammered and pointed towards the door. “Well, I was going to go home.” 

“Nooooooooo. Stay,” you whined, reaching out for him. Peter felt conflicted, he wanted nothing more than to run into your arms and cuddle you but he also knew that you were drunk. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable, or wake up in the morning with regret over something that happened. But something happened in him when you asked him to stay. That one word, mumbled barely loud enough for him to hear, was the thing that convinced him. It made him feel something he couldn’t describe and the way you’d said it as if it was just for him made a warmth spread in his chest. 

He smiled and nodded, resulting in a small clap from you. He grabbed a glass of water and some painkillers for you in the morning as well as putting the flowers he had given you on your nightstand before heading towards the couch. 

“No!” He stopped as you pouted again but he didn’t have time to ask why before you had pulled him into the space next to you. He’d protested with a heavy blush but you were already cuddling into his chest with a happy sigh. 

Peter wrapped his arms around you and enjoyed the moment, kissing your head sweetly without even thinking about it. There was something about you that instantly made him feel at ease like a piece of home that he never wanted to let go. 

He assumed you had fallen asleep until three little words broke the silence. 

“I miss you.” 

Peter could feel his heart thump and ache in his chest at the small admission, his mind conflicted between the warmth of being missed and the sadness that their relationship had come to this.

“I miss you too.” 

You looked up at him as he spoke, your expression unreadable but your eyes, still hazy from the alcohol, were almost glistening. “Really?”

Peter nodded with a blush, hoping you couldn’t see in the darkness of the room. “Really.” 

You cuddled him tighter and sniffled into his chest. Peter started to run his fingers through your hair to comfort you as he held you close and you smiled, eventually letting out a giggle and Peter knew you were okay. 

A few more moments of silence passed and just as he hoped you were finally getting some rest, you spoke up again. “Peter?” He hummed in response. “I love you. I don’t mean any of that fake bullshit, I really really love you.” 

Peter froze speechless and his jaw dropped apape as you turned back to face him. He didn’t get his hopes up because he had to remember you were drunk, it was probably just the alcohol talking. That’s all it was, he thought.

“Y/n-” 

You put your finger to his lips and shook your head slowly, shushing him. Peter kept quiet before realising you were trying to lean in, bringing your lips closer to his. He was so tempted. All he wanted was to pull you into him kiss you until both of your lungs ached for air. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, and that he wanted to date you for real. This was the endgame. From the second he realized it at the carnival, this was what he had been working toward. But not like this. He wanted you to want him when you were you, not how you were now. The stench of alcohol on your breath gave him just enough self control to do what he had to.

“Y/n no.” Peter turned his head quickly and bit his lip. 

“No?”

He glanced back at you to see your pout and sighed deeply. “Y-you’re drunk. That’s not how I want this to go.” 

“You don’t want me?” 

“No! I mean I do. I just- I can’t kiss you when you’re drunk. It wouldn’t be right and I want you to be sober when-” He blushed and cut himself off, too shy to say the rest but you were drunk. You weren’t going to remember this in the morning. “I want it to be perfect and for you to remember when we have our first real kiss.”

You looked at him softly, only slight confusion written on your face before a loud hiccup escaped your lips causing you to start giggling again. Peter giggled too, not letting his sadness show that all of what had just happened would be lost by tomorrow morning. 

Peter smiled as he listened to your giggles and incoherent mumbles inbetween, his fingers still combing delicately through your hair. Eventually your giggles turned into snores as you snuggled into his chest and Peter sighed happily, thankful that you were finally getting rest. 

Peter felt another warm feeling fill his whole body as he watched you sleep, hoping that what you had said was true because that meant that you and him could be a real possibility and that maybe he didn’t need a plan. He just needed you.

He spent the rest of the night daydreaming about finally being able to call you his girlfriend and kiss you for real before he started to fall asleep with a happy smile.

“I love you too by the way.” He mumbled in a whisper before he finally let sleep overtake him, his arms wrapped around you as you slept on his chest. 

[simsadventures]

Only Mine: Chapter 10: The Question

Summary: You want spend precious time with Natasha, who you haven’t seen in a while. Then an idea pops into your head, and Bucky is more than happy to oblige, before he asks you some important questions.

Warnings: implied smut, phone sex (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THE PART BETWEEN WARNINGS) fluff, swearing, mafia AU

Word Count: 3551

A/N: I feel like I haven’t updated in forever, so sorry for that. Not too much is happening here, I’m more preparing my ground for what is about to come next. Hope you’ll enjoy it nevertheless. Tell me what you thought, you guys! I love this series so much, tbh xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

It was not that you didn’t enjoy your time at the mansion. You surely did, but after a few days (because of course Bucky didn’t let you leave just like that when he had all things he needed at one place) you felt like you could use some alone time. Or, more specifically, time with your own friends.

Bucky acted as if he couldn’t speak English when you told him that you’d like somebody to drive you home and that somebody could presumably be anybody else but Brock. Even though he stayed clear of you the whole time you spent in the house, it didn’t mean you felt any better about the guy. You still remembered his sly comments, and it never ceased to make you shudder.

Bucky tried to list all the advantaged of you staying there with him, and although constant sex and not having to cook did sound pretty good, you knew you had to leave, one way, or the other. It was also the end of the weekend, and as much as you liked Bucky and spending some quality time with him, your boss would probably not be too happy about you not coming to work the next day.

But most of all, it felt like a century since you last saw Nat. You were used to be with her almost every single day, just sharing stupid stories from work, and having a laugh about the stupidity of some people. But because you spent so much time with Bucky, you just didn’t have the time for Natasha. And you were feeling like the worst friend in the world.

Bucky’s protests were loud and clear, but your resilience was stronger, and so it was Sunday afternoon, that you finally managed to make him budge, and he actually let you leave the mansion. Not without a long and very steamy goodbye though. He insisted it was either a hot shower sex, or you not leaving his house ever again, so…

It was Peter who drove you back, and even though Bucky wanted to accompany you, he had some pressing matters to attend to, and, to be quite frank, you didn’t mind one bit. You enjoyed your time spent with Peter, because he was just such a sweetheart, and you wanted to get to know him better.

“I don’t want to pester you, Peter, and if you don’t feel like answering my question, you totally can stay quiet,” you said, while his eyes were glued to the road, probably because Bucky told him that if there was a hair wrong on your hair when he next saw you, Peter would be responsible.

“I’m an open book, Y/N. Ask away!”

“Alright. I was curious, as to what such a sweet boy, and so young, on top of it, is doing with Bucky’s gang. I mean, sure, you’ve got the power, and I bet the money ain’t that bad either, but you seem so smart, and I just wondered what made you decide for this line of work, really,” you mused, and waited for his reply.

You knew you were being nosey, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

There was a silence in the car while Peter thought about his answer, and you didn’t rush him.

“Uhm, well, my uncle used to work for Bucky’s father, he used to be his accountant, and because he and my aunt May raised me, it was one of those things that were almost given, you know? I tried to go to university, but it just didn’t feel right. So I quit and asked Bucky if I could help him out, and he took me in. Also, I wanted to help May. She is an amazing woman and after losing my uncle, I just wanted to help her out a bit, you know? And going to university, that would just drain her completely, and I didn’t have the heart to do it.”

You listened to him intently, your heart tightening in your chest for him. You could see he was ok with his fate, but, somehow, you weren’t. You wanted more for this sweet kid, and even though you didn’t really know how to achieve that, you made a mental note to try and help him and his aunt so that he could pursue a better career. Or at least one where he wouldn’t have to face death almost every single month.

Before you knew it, Peter was pulling over in front of your building. The street lamps were already lit, the dim light they were emitting setting a warm feeling in your heart. The sun was down, and only a few orange and pink clouds were giving away the beauty of the previous day. You kissed Peter’s cheek, which even in the hardly lit car caused him to blush so hard you could actually see it, and you giggled slightly.

You bid him goodnight and getting out of the car, you pulled out your phone from your purse, dealing Bucky’s number. He made you promise to call him as soon as you got home, and you knew you would have caught hell weren’t you to call him immediately.

He picked up in seconds, and you had to laugh in your head. He was such a softie, even if he never admitted it.

“Already missing me, doll?”

You could almost see the smirk on his stupid face, and you shook your head, unlocking the front door.

“Oh, that’s how it is now, huh? I thought you wanted me to let you know, but I guess I was wrong, bye, Buck!” You hollered, even though you had no intention of hanging up on him.

“NO” Wait! I was just joking! I’m glad you called, doll, you know me. I was just teasing you, that’s all. I’m happy you’re home and safe. Was the ride ok, or should I take care of the youngling?”

“Don’t you even dare tell him anything, joke or not. He’s mortified of you, and I don’t wanna be the reason you’re making him uncomfortable. The ride was perfect, and you should be glad you have such a sweetie amongst your men!” You told him, imagining him rolling his eyes at your comments. He always did this when you talked to him about his line of business.

“Right, because it’s such an important trait for a mobster, to be a fucking sweetie. Imma have to remember that one when I hire more men. If you’re not a sweetie, you can’t fucking work for him. You wanna kill him? Sure, but do it sweetly.”

You snorted out a laugh just as you entered your apartment and breathed a sigh of relief. You missed this little place. Your little safe haven.

“You’re such a dork. I’m just saying that he can actually act human, not like I can say that about all of your guys,” you took a jab at Brock and Bob, but continued right afterwards, not wanting to give him a reason to get angry again.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go, I think me and Nat are gonna have a glass or five, and then we’ll go to sleep. Hope you have a good night, babe,” you almost whispered, walking further in the apartment and spotting Nat sitting on the sofa, smiling at you with two glasses of wine ready. How she knew you were coming, that was a mystery to you.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear what you said there! Be safe and text me when you wake up. Night!”

You wanted to laugh at him for being such an overprotective boyfriend, but he already hung up. Bucky couldn’t make a friendly phone call, and that was why you always rather either texted him or spoke to him in person. His telephone persona was just too stiff for you.

“Hey there, stranger! I almost thought you moved there and that I had to look for another roommate!” Nat smiled at you sheepishly, and you stuck your tongue out, which made her laugh.

“Not my fault my boyfriend wants me all to himself,” you said, shrugging your shoulders, and Nat had to roll her eyes at you.  

“Your boyfriend is a mafia boss, of course, he wants you to himself, babe! Anyway, how is life going in the mafia paradise, huh? He’s been treating you well, I hope. If not, I’m gonna go and kick his juicy ass!”

You wanted to take a sip of your wine, but Nat’s comment made you spit it out like a hippo, and your hand wasn’t fast enough to cover your mouth which made the white wine sprinkle everywhere on the sofa.

“You can’t say things like that! I could have drowned, for Christ’s sake! Anyway, a juicy ass, huh?” You smirked at her.

The rest of the night went similarly, you two were talking your hearts out about everything that has happened since you two had a proper girls’ evening. By the time it was 1AM, you were both giggling messes, slightly drunk but definitely happy.  

And it was in that state that an idea emerged in your brain. You bid Nat goodnight and went to your room, picking up your phone and dialling the only important number.

—-

Bucky was already asleep when his phone started vibrating next to his head. He wanted to ignore it, thinking it could wait till morning to deal with the world and with the person being so rude as to call him so late at night.

But when he saw who was calling him, he sat up straight and didn’t hesitate in picking up.

“Doll? What’s wrong? Where are you? Should I come for you?” He was distressed, just the mere thought of you being hurt made him want to vomit. He could gut a person with his bare hands, but he couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering.

He heard a little giggle escaping your mouth, and your heavy breathing and his brows furrowed.

“You could come alright if you know what I mean,” he heard you say seductively, and his face was now wearing a look of utter confusion.

Warning, smut starting

“What? Y/N? Are you- are you drunk, doll?” He asked, his hand on his face as he tried to breathe through his slight panic attack.

“Maybe, maybe not. But I miss you, James, and I thought we could have a little fun, what do you say?” You were whining, and before Bucky knew what was happening a strangled moan left your lips, and the sound went straight to his groin.

“Doll, are you doing what I think you’re doing?”  

“Depends. What do you think I’m doing, James?” The way his name rolled off your tongue would be enough to get him off. He loved it when you called his name, all sweaty, with puffed up lips, parted enough he could kiss you deeply whenever he liked.

He growled as a response, and he heard you moaning again. His dick was already standing proud, just the thought of you making it all excited and ready for action. Bucky sighed and lied down, keeping his sleeping pants on, just freeing his aching cock.

“You’re teasing me, Y/N, that’s what you’re doing. So stop it, and tell me exactly what you’re doing to that pretty pussy of yours.”

He could hear the sudden intake of breath on the other side of the line and had to smirk at your reaction. He could have you gasping even if he wasn’t there to perform his magic

Few seconds passed before you regained your composure and actually started talking. Bucky was just intently listening to the sounds leaving your mouth, imagining what you looked like at the moment, and each image his mind created was hotter than the previous one. But he knew no matter what he imagined, the reality was ten thousand times better, and he seriously hated himself for letting you go home. He could’ve been balls deep inside you by now.

“I’m picturing you with me, James, the way your beard scratches along under-boob, and the way you suck on my tits when you thrusting deep inside me, hitting all the right spots as you go,” you said quietly, and Bucky could tell you were biting your lip, trying to stay as quiet as possible. But because you were a screamer, he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long.

Bucky would be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on by your little sighs and moans, and just the whole idea that you got drunk with your friend, and the thing you wanted to do at 1 AM in the morning was to call him and have phone sex with him.

“Yeah? And how does that feel, baby?” Bucky asked you, his voice strained from the effort of not coming right there and then.

“Oh, yeah! You feel amazing, James. So good and ohmygod… so sooo deep! Ooooh,” you were muttering and moaning, and Bucky couldn’t help it but let a moan of his own escape his lips. He could hear the whimper coming from your bed, and he swore under his breath. You would be his death, Bucky was sure of it.

The rest of the phone call was filled with both of you moaning and encouraging the other to speed up, to do it harder, and it 6 minutes, you were both hissing and groaning, coming together just as if you were actually sharing a bed.

Warning ending

For a moment, all that could be heard on the line was panting, both of you trying to calm down your hearts, and come down from your bliss.

“Well,” Bucky said when he regained his composure, “that was something else, doll. You alright?”

He could hear your sighs, and he could only imagine the blissful expression on your face right now.

“‘M fine. Tired, but oh-so-good. I’m sorry if I woke you up, I just needed to hear your voice.”

Your voice indeed sounded exhausted, and while Bucky cleaned himself, he mumbled on the phone, grinning like an idiot.

“Never apologise for wanting to have sex with me, phone or not. And if I ever tell you to stop, or to quit it, please, just kill me. Go to sleep, Y/N. You’re going to work tomorrow, and you should get at least some rest before you do so.”

You just hummed, and Bucky was pretty positive you were already drifting off, tired and satisfied. He smiled at the phone and mumbled a low goodnight before he hung up and went off to sleep himself. And all he could dream off that night was you being curled against his side, safe and sound.

—-

The whole day was a nightmare. Not only did you have a slight hangover in the morning, and your head felt like it would burst into flames any minute, you also came a bit late to work, which didn’t help your situation at all. Not that your boss minded too much, but still. You hated it when you were late.

By the end of the day, you wished you could be at home, taking a hot bath with your favourite scented candle, and let the whole day disappear from your mind.

But, obviously, Bucky had different plans, when it came to your evening, because as you got out of the office, there he was, standing like a statue surrounded by his men.

Kate and the others looked like deers in headlights, just standing there, confused and slightly terrified, with their eyes looking like they’d fall out if they moved. You just nodded their way and rolled your eyes at Bucky and his dramatic entrance into your personal life. He just HAD to come there.

You could feel all the eyes on you as you walked towards the black SUV and the infamous man standing in front of it. Only Nat knew about your relationship, and you thought you’d have a bit more time keeping in secret. But obviously, Bucky’s plans differed from yours and oh boy, would he hear about that one!

You didn’t even spare him a look, giving a small smile to Peter and Sam who were next to Bucky and you got in the car, shutting the door right behind you. You crossed your arms in front of you, clenching your jaw.

You didn’t even know why you were this mad. At first, you thought it was because you didn’t want to be seen with Bucky, his reputation preceding him. But then you realised that you didn’t care about that anymore. Sure, he was a gangster and he, without a doubt, did some things you wouldn’t even want to know about, but when he was with you, and with people he cared about, he was this amazing guy who would do anything for his people. And that’s what you valued the most.

It was that he didn’t even tell you he’d come and very obviously show everybody who you were seeing. It was your privacy as well as his, and you hated that he just made this decision without consulting you.

When he finally got in the car, he immediately turned to you with his eyebrows raised. You huffed out a breath and turned to face the window, not ready to have this fight just yet.

“Would you share with me, what the hell was that all about? Don’t I fucking deserve a kiss, picking up my girlfriend from work? What you so pissed about?”

You didn’t even answer him, not wanting to cause a scene in front of his men. Sam may have been his best friend, and Peter was still a kid, but you knew better than to lecture him in front of them. You just shook your head and waited till you got to your apartment so you could have a civilised conversation with him, which you knew wouldn’t happen in the car.

When Peter pulled over in from of your building, you said your goodbyes to the two in front and nodded at Bucky to follow you. He didn’t even question you, probably curious and pissed as hell you were still not speaking to him.  

Once in the apartment, he followed you to your room, closing the door behind the two of you, and once again, raising his brows at you.

“You gonna tell me what’s got your panties twisted or should I fucking deduce it somehow?” He was pissed, alright.

You turned on your heel, facing him with a furious expression.

“Did I ask you to come and pick me up from work? Or did you just DEDUCE that was something I wanted and just fucking acted on it?”

His expression was blank, but you knew that a million thoughts were running through his mind.

“You still on about that bullshit that I’m not boyfriend material and people are gonna judge you? Thought we got over that! Thought you were ok with being my girl,” he raised his voice at you, and you flinched at his tone, but you weren’t about to be intimidated by him. No fucking way!

“And have you ever asked me to be your fucking girlfriend, when you’re running around like a macho, acting as if we were a solid item, huh?”

Bucky was stunned. He told you you were his, and all of that, but he never thought you’d actually want him to ask you to be his girlfriend.

He smirked and took a step closer, you taking one step back. You were not ready to make up just yet.

“I didn’t know it was required, doll. If only I knew, I would’ve asked a lot sooner! I told you you were my girl and you didn’t protest, so I took it you were fine with that. But if you’re not, fine. My beautiful, amazing Y/N, would you do me the honour and be my official girlfriend? Please?”  

Well, that please really did that for you. Bucky, and pleading, you wouldn’t get anything better out of him, anyway.

“Since you’re asking so nicely, James,” you accentuated his name and smirked at him, earning a chuckle from him.

“You can be so fucking difficult sometimes. Why didn’t you say so in the car?”

“I was worried we would actually fight and I didn’t want to undermine your authority in front of the guys,” you smiled sweetly at him, and let him pull you in a hug.

“I’d spank your cute ass if you did that! Oh, and I came because I had another question on my mind. Is it a good time to talk to you about something else, or are you still pissed at your boyfriend?”

You swatted his chest lightly.

“What is it, my amazing boyfriend?”

He kissed the crown of your head and pulled you even closer.

“My birthday is coming up, and we have this tradition, that always on my birthday we organise a ball in some specific theme so that we can gather around looking dope as fuck and having a lot of kinky sex. Which, I hope, will be with you this year,” he added quickly, seeing your face turning red.

“Would you come with me, as my date?”

/Next Chapter >

Only Mine: @albinotigerpython​ @brownlee-22​ @yennewolf @heywess @bitchwhytho​ @thegirlwhowritesfics​ @eteramfools​ @blonddnamedhandz​ @everything-is-awesomesauce​ @justlovelifeblog​ @scuzmunkie​ @rohaintahquil​ @d-jall​ @cap-just-said-language​ @readermia​ @chubby-dumplin​ @slcvely @thewackywriter​ @mswinterfalcon​ @ieshaa96​ @calwitch​ @everythingisoverrated​ @maggyme13​ @sukeraa​ @new-romanticz1989​ @captainchrisstan​ @asteria33​

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten​ @paradisiacalsparks​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @owlyannah​ @lassini​ @s-trawberryv-eins​ @reniescarlett​ @bxrnsfeyson​ @the-soulofdevil​

Marvel Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @lumar014​ @ptrs-prkrs​

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone​ @sasbb23​ @p8tn0lish​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @waiting4inspiration​ @caswinchester2000​ @mogaruke​ @justthatfangirloverthere​ @mushyjellybeans​ @livsheph​ @sebbbystaaan​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @itsunclebucky​

If your name is crossed out, tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason, I’m sorry.

If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical ones. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think.

[eleven-times-lively]

The Twins - Part 1

In which Fred and reader welcome their new bundles of joy into the world.💕 Masterpost

Summary: The first children of Fred and reader are born as the couple beings their adventures in parenting and the first real trial of marriage. With a bit of angst IM SORRY. Word Count: 6845 oops Note: So I kinda forgot I had to do this lol. I wrote this at 1am on Friday cause I had two history essays due that I procrastinated hehehe.

You found him in the kitchen and wrapped your arms around him from behind. “What’s this for, love?” He giggled as he turned to face you. You cupped his face in your hands and looked him right in the eyes, “I’m pregnant.”

The tears quickly began to well in his eyes, his emotions processing before his thoughts. “You’re, pr-”

“Yes, Freddie! Pregnant! We’re going to be parents!” He picked you up into the air like you were no more than a feather. Embracing you in the tightest hug he ever had he nuzzled into your neck. 

“How do you know!? How long have you known? How far along are you?! Did you tell anyone else before me? This is amazing! Are you okay?” The amount of questions--both spoken and underlying--that he was throwing at you was unreal.

“I’ve been vomiting, I’m two weeks late, and yes it is amazing!!!” You pulled him into a deep kiss as you celebrated together.

“We need to tell everyone!”

“Woahhh… slow your roll, Weasley. I think I should head to the doctor first. And besides, you aren’t supposed to tell anyone for a few months in case something… happens.” His face contorted a bit at the last part. He had just found out about the little bean inside of you and he already couldn’t bear the thought of something bad happening. “Here, sit down. Can I get you anything?”

You let out a light chuckle. “Fred I’m not diseased. I can’t be more than a month pregnant, it’s almost as if I’m not at all.”

“I knowww,” he groaned, “but you have our baby in there, and I need to protect you at all costs.”

You blushed at his words. “A cup of tea wouldn’t hurt I suppose.”

***

Three days later you and Fred were seated in the doctor's office, practically vibrating with nerves and excitement. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley! Nice to meet you! I’m Dr. Bloom. Congratulations on the news!” Dr. Bloom was the peppiest woman you’d ever met. She couldn’t have been more than five foot two and her dusty brown curls bobbed about the room along with her. “Now, when did you find out?”

You sat up a bit straighter, matching her warm smile. “About three weeks ago I missed my period, and I’ve been dizzy and nauseous ever since… Although I just put the pieces together a few days ago,” you added with a chuckle.

“Great! So you could be about a month along already! How exciting!” She grinned at you and Fred, seemingly more excited for the baby than you two were. “Now normally we would wait until about seven weeks to do an ultrasound, but because we aren’t entirely sure how far along you are we may as well do one today. Mrs. Weasley if you’d please hop up here and just life your shirt a bit.”

You stood and did as she asked, and Fred gripped your hand once you were settled. 

“Now this may be a bit chilly!” she remarked as she began. Her gleeful face quickly contorted into a cross between confusion and concern. You could practically hear Fred’s heart sink as you both feared the worst. “Mrs. Weasley, how far along did you saw you were?”

“Well I missed my period about three weeks ago, but we did skip protection at the beginning of… last… month…” you’re words trailed off as you realised.

“How fun! Mr. and Mrs. Weasley I’d estimate that you are about six weeks along! Good thing I did an ultrasound, it’s the perfect time!” You and Fred grinned at each other with all of the passion in the universe.

“Could we um… is it too soon to see the baby?” He asked sheepishly.

“Of course not, Mr. Weasley!” She grinned up at Fred… very far up. “Here’s the little bean!” She turned the monitor and your heart melted.

“They’re beautiful,” Fred sighed, the tears welling up in his eyes. “Y/n, love, that’s our baby.” Now you were crying.

“Oh… wait.” Dr. Bloom piped up, except she didn’t sound even the least bit concerned. She turned the monitor back to herself as she searched the screen. 

“Doctor?” Fred questioned, a hint of fear pricking at his words.

She turned back to you, practically jumping out of her seat. “Mr. and Mrs. Weasley you are having twins!!” She practically shrieked as she turned the monitor back to you and Fred. “See? There’s one and there’s the other! Now, it’s too early to tell the gender but you do have two separate amniotic sacs so they could both be the same or you could get a boy and a girl!!”

You and Fred looked at each other once more before wrapping in a tight embrace. “Twins!” You both exclaimed in unison.

“Twins!” Dr. Bloom chimed back. “Twins are quite rare at your age, Mrs. Weasley. Do they run in either family?”

“I have a twin brother,” Fred replied, sounding quite proud of himself. “I can’t wait to tell Georgie!” he whispered to you.

“How fun! Aren’t genetics so interesting!?” She once again grinned up at both of you, both now standing. “Now I should mention that this immediately makes the pregnancy high risk.” Even while delivering somewhat concerning news, she still sounded chipper. “You’ll have to have more ultrasounds, you’ll get a lot bigger, and there is a chance you’ll have to go on bedrest for the last few weeks or you’ll have to deliver early. However, it is a good thing that you two are so young because that reduces all of these risks by a lot!” There were smiles around the room as she handed you the printed picture of the sonogram. “Oh! I almost forgot! Your due date is around early January, of course expect mid to late December since twins are usually born around 36 weeks rather than 38 to 40.” You and Fred thanked her as you headed out of the office.

*** Two months later...early July...14 weeks pregnant.

“Ugh! I look like a whale!” You cried out as you tried to tug your dress on. “Whyyy twins!? I’m barely four months but I look huge already!”

“Nonsense!” Fred piped up from behind you, peering in from the doorway. 

“Honestly I can’t believe I didn’t know until six bloody weeks! I was already showing then I just thought I got fat!”

“Nonsense!” He repeated. “You are bloody stunning, love.” He walked over to you and placed a kiss to your shoulder before crouching down and placing both hands on your belly. “No matter what you look like, you’ll always be gorgeous in my eyes.” He placed a kiss to your belly before standing up again and placing a kiss on your lips.

“Yeah you say that now, but wait until after I have these beans and I’m all saggy,” you chuckled, a tear pricking at your eyes at your true thoughts behind the joke.

“Still beautiful,” Fred kissed you again, laughing. Then he noticed the tear rolling down your face. “Love, what is it! For real, tell me.”

“I’m massive! And these stretch marks! I mean seriously, why do these have to be a thing?! You’re gonna see me after I have our babies and question why we even got pregnant in the first place.

“Y/n! Stoppit, please. These stretch marks are a sign of power and strength. What you’re doing is a bloody amazing thing, especially since you’re doing twice the work. You are the strongest, most fearless woman I know, and no matter what you look like, that won’t change. I can’t stand to see you talk about yourself like that,” he spoke softly, running his hands through your hair as he went. “I’m not walking away until you say that you love yourself no matter how you look. And you have to mean it.” He smiled down at you as he moved behind you to look at you in the mirror.

“I know you love me, Freddie. Thank you. These changes are just...hard,” you sighed a bit as you spoke. “But I love myself, and my body, and all of the amazing things I’m doing right now.” You smiled at him in the mirror. “Happy now?” There was humour in your tone but he could tell you meant what you had said.

“Very.” He kissed the top of your head before he spoke. “Now, we have a busy day. I told mum to gather everyone at the Burrow to share the news, although of course I didn’t tell her that bit. So we are heading there, then we have to take the photos to send out the announcements to everyone else, and then we have our visit with Dr. Bloom later.”

“I’m exhausted thinking about doing all of that,” you added with a laugh. “Can you believe it’s already our third visit? And we get to find out the genders today!” You added with a smile before trailing off, “Of course, only if you want to.”

“I’d love to find out what you’ve got in there, love,” he laughed at his remark, “But only if you do. And I suppose it doesn’t matter all that much in the end, does it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well it’s all up to them anyway. Boy, girl, somewhere in between, maybe it’ll change. I don’t know, I just want them to be happy and be who they are.” You almost burst into tears at his words.

“I love you, Fred. And our babies.”

“Love you, too.” He gave you a kiss as you both headed out of the bedroom door to apparate to the Burrow.

***

You and Fred tried your best to hide the bump as you came up the path to the front door, but of course everyone noticed as soon as you stepped inside and you were met with a barrage of excited comments.

“Fred Weasley I haven’t seen you in mo-, Y/n you’re pregnant!!” Molly shouted.

“Oi! Look at you, y/n!” Ron and Harry said in unison, “Congratulations!” Ginny and Hermione followed.

“Well would you look at that,” Bill uttered in surprise, “my baby brother’s going to have a baby of his own!” You and Fred exchanged knowing glances, wondering if you should tell them the extra surprise just yet.

“And you didn’t even tell me, your own twin brother!” George scoffed, sounding fake annoyed. “Congratulations, mate!” he said as he patted Fred on the shoulder, “and y/n you’re looking radiant as ever.” You just rolled your eyes and laughed.

“Actually…” Fred began, “we have an extra surprise.” This was met with puzzled looks all around. “Georgie, I guess twins run in the family cause we’re having our own!” This only welcomed another wave of excited shouts from the group.

“Twins!” Fred and Geroge exclaimed in unison, sharing the most excited faces you’d seen in a while.

“How wonderful!” Molly exclaimed, lightly touching your belly, “how far along, y/n? Do you know the genders yet?”

“Fourteen weeks, and we find out today!”

“Fourteen weeks!” George gawked, “Happy birthday to you Freddie…” Fred just rolled his eyes at his brother.

“Fourteen weeks and you’re already huge!” Ron piped up, earning a slap from Molly and Fred. “Heavens no I didn’t mean it like that! I just would’ve thought you were a bit farther along. My apologies, y/n. You look amazing.”

“It’s fine, Ron, I know,” you said, genuinely meaning it, “you get a bit bigger with two babies.” you laughed.

You all sat and talked for a few hours. Discussing everything from how you found out, when you told Fred, and how you felt about it. You noticed it was nearly time for your appointment, so you and Fred rose before saying goodbye to the group and apparating away.

***

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, good to see you again!” Dr. Bloom said, chipper as ever. You and Fred looked down at her, smiling. “Y/n, you know what to do, dear. Will you two be finding out the genders today?”

You and Fred looked at each other expectantly before pronouncing a resounding “Yes!” in unison.

“Fantastic,” Dr. Bloom laughed as she got started. “Alright Mrs. Weasley, the babies look amazing, perfectly healthy and the size we’d expect for fourteen weeks.” She smiled at you and Fred as she spoke. “Are we ready to have a look?” You and Fred nodded and grinned. “Alrighty, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, you are having girls!”

“They’re both girls?!” Fred exclaimed, both stunned and overjoyed.

“Yes! Congratulations!”

You and Fred embraced, both crying.

*** Three months later… end of September… 26 weeks pregnant

“Twelve weeks to go, love,” Fred said as he rubbed your belly, “can you believe it?”

“I certainly cannot. But I can believe that I wanna have these babies and be done with pregnancy,” you groaned. “I’m so excited to meet our beautiful baby girls, Freddie.”

“Me too, y/n. I’d never imagine you’d be so eager to give birth. I mean you look radiant and don’t all women just love being pregnant?” Fred muttered as the two of you were cuddled on the couch.

“Are you serious?” You asked, looking down at him.

“What?”

“I mean look at me!,” you exclaimed as you stood, looking at his seated figure on the couch. “I’m absolutely massive and I still have three months to go! I waddle when I walk, I can barely go upstairs without having to take a break at the top, my ankles and back hurt constantly because I’ve already gained thirty pounds and I can barely keep anything but toast down!” you continued, practically yelling, “I mean, how in the world could I be happy right now!”

“Cause you’re carrying our children…” Fred said softly, standing up and resting his hands on your belly. “Our daughters are in there, y/n.”

“I know that, Fred,” you sighed, “and I can’t wait to meet them. I’d just rather be done with this pregnancy. It’s been horrible! Does everyone feel like this?”

“I mean I know you’re extra hormonal but I think you’re overreacting just a bit, love.” wrong answer, Weasley.

“Excuse me?!” You shouted, taking a step back from Fred. “You try gaining this much weight, carrying TWO children,and being in constant pain!” You were yelling now.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry, I- I don’t know where that came from…”

“Yeah? Well you said it so there has to be some truth behind it, Fred. This is my pregnancy, not yours. I’m allowed to feel however I want right now and you can’t say a damn thing about it! At least make an effort to understand what I’m feeling.” You walked away and out into the gardens before he could respond.

Fred came outside to find you about thirty minutes later, wanting to give you some time to cool down. He found you lounged on the chair in the garden, a tear rolling down your cheek. “Y/n? Love, I-”

“I’m sorry, Fred.”

“What? Why? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” he nearly whispered as he crouched down next to you and wiped the tear from your cheek.

“I exploded on you for no reason. I hate yelling, especially when it’s at you, especially when I have our daughters in me. I feel bad.”

“Love you absolutely had a reason to be upset, I made a horrible comment cause I wasn’t thinking. I’m so, so sorry, y/n. What you are going through is a massive change, and you’re right, I can’t even begin to comprehend what it’s like. It’s your body, your emotions, your experience and I stepped on that. I’m sorry.”

“I know. I love you so much, Freddie. And you’ve been absolutely amazing throughout these past six months. I couldn’t have asked for a better husband.”

“I love you, y/n, very much and I hope you know that.”

You slowly and painstakingly rose to your feet before taking his hand and heading inside.

*** Three months later… Christmas Eve… 39 weeks pregnant

“Fred!” you shouted from your bedroom at your husband. He was busy getting the gifts together so the two of you could head to the Burrow for the Christmas festivities. You were huge, tired, and pretty miserable given that you were now a week past your due date of December 17.

“What?!” Fred called out when he reached the bedroom having sprinted upstairs. He’d been on edge ever since your due date and every time you yell his name he thinks this is it, I’m going to meet my daughters. “Is everything okay? Is it time!?”

“No, Freddie,” you said slightly chuckling with an apologetic look on your face. “I just wanted to show you my Christmas Eve outfit.” You looked extremely festive in your red sweater, leggings (you had chosen jeans just ditched them for comfort), and little booties, which all came together with the little Santa hat atop your head.

“You look amazing, love. Ready to go?”

“Absolutely!” Fred went downstairs and came back up with the gifts and from the bedroom floor he grabbed your bags to stay a few nights at the Burrow. You didn’t even have the energy to apparate yourself, let alone go downstairs to do it.

Moments later you and Fred stood in the chilly air outside the Burrow. He quickly ushered you inside while struggling to balance the three bags he was holding.

“Freddie! Y/n!” Molly called out. “Here y/n, please sit,” she offered out the stop on the couch she was just in. You sat down rather fast for your condition, grateful to be off your feet. Molly took the bag of gifts from Fred as he went upstairs to put your bags in his old bedroom, which you’d reluctantly have to share with George and Angelina. “So how are you, darling? The kids are all outside gathering more wood for a fire, and probably getting into trouble,” she chuckled, “Can I get you anything?”

“Oh no, I’m perfectly fine thank you Molly.” She seemed satisfied as she hurried away to call everyone else in from the snowy backyard. The once quiet living room where just you and Arthur, who was asleep, sat quickly filled with Weasleys and their companions.

“Y/n! So great to see you, love,” Ginny smiled warmly at you.

“No babies yet?” Harry asked.

“Unfortunately not,” you chuckled. You answered other questions from the many Weasleys as you greeted them all. Fred then came running down the stairs when he heard everyone.

“Georgie!” he shouted, leaping into his brother’s arms.

“Well hello, Freddie!” he laughed as he hugged his brother. Everyone found various seats around the living room as they asked you more and Fred more questions.

“When is your due date, y/n?” Hermione asked.

“Well it was December 17, but as you can see we’ve since exceeded that.”

“Do you know the genders? If so, why haven’t you told me, er- us?” George questioned.

“We do know, and all in due time, brother.” Fred laughed.

“Are you nervous? Scared?” Charlie asked as Bill shot him a look.

“Extremely,” you and Fred said in unison, exchanging glances. “I’m just so scared I’ll do something wrong, you know?” Fred continued, “Like what if I’m not a good father and I mess them up somehow?” he asked, voice shaky.

“Freddie,” you said softly as Molly spoke up.

“Fred, honey, you’ll do great! Your father and I have surely raised you right and you’re a bloody amazing person, dear. You’ll be one of the best fathers out there!” This was met with affirming nods and ‘mhmm’ from around the room. Seemingly calmed down, Fred took a deep breath as Fleur spoke up.

“Do you have any names in mind?”

“A couple,” you responded, “we definitely want them to have some sentimental or family value to them.”

“Little George Weasley Junior!” George exclaimed. “Or Georgina,” he quickly added.

“They aren’t your kids, you git,” Fred laughed. “Perhaps their middle names could be Molly and Ginevra.” Fred quickly realised his slip, earning a death glare from you as he turned pale as a ghost. He quickly corrected himself, “Or maybe even William, or Percy, or Charles, or… uh… um George, or Ronald, or even Arthur.” He was rambling and it was obvious he was only trying to cover up.

“Y/n Weasley do you have two baby girls in there?” Molly asked, grinning.

“Yes I do! But they aren’t identical,” you said proudly. “We were hoping to announce it tomorrow but someone can’t keep his mouth shut,” you laughed. You and Fred were met with more congratulations and excited sentiments, and Ginny looked like she was about to explode.

“Two baby girls!” she exclaimed, “Harry, we may have to have our own soon!” Harry just froze in his spot and paled.

After many hours of conversation between everyone, it was getting late.

“Alright, kids,” Molly spoke up, “bedtime.”

“But Mummm,” George whined, “ we aren’t children anymore.”

“Then why are you whining like one George Weasley?” Everyone snickered as George turned red. Everyone retreated upstairs to their childhood bedrooms.

“You know, Georgie, sharing a room was great when we were kids but now we’re adults with wives and it’s rather unfortunate.” Fred said to his brother.

“I think it’s quite fun,” George responded, “like one last sleepover before you and y/n are boring adults with kids.”

“Hey now Georgie,” you chimed in, “you seemed awfully excited about these babies a moment ago.”

“Well of course I am, y/n! I can’t wait to meet my little nieces, but I will miss my brother.”

“Oh you wish I’d leave you alone, Georgie,” Fred laughed. 

After getting organized and settled you all climbed into your respective beds. At least they weren’t too close to each other. It was quite difficult to squeeze into the twin sized bed with yourself, Fred, and the baby bump. You eventually made it work and found yourselves cuddled closer than ever, though neither of you seemed to mind.

***

You and Fred woke up Christmas morning to an empty room and the smell of breakfast creeping up the stairs. 

“Morning, love,” Fred whispered sleepily. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, love,” you said as you kissed him. He helped you out of bed before the two of you got ready for the day. You and Fred went downstairs and were met with warm smiles from the Weasleys.

“Morning you two!” Molly smiled at you from the kitchen, “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Molly, and everyone else of course!”

After breakfast everyone found a place in the livingroom and around the tree, elated to receive their Weasley jumpers. As she was passing them around Molly whispered only to you, “I made you one a bit bigger. It’s not for pregnancy cause I figured you’d have the babies by now, but I figured it’ll be nice right after you have them.”

You felt a tear prick at your eye, “thank you, Molly.”

“Of course, dear,” she said, then continued at a normal volume, “I was going to knit some for the babies but we don’t know their names yet! As soon as they’re born I’ll get to work!”

Gifts were passed out between couples, in-laws, and siblings as laughs and smiles were traded around the room. You were about to give Fred his gift when you felt that dreaded pain in your lower back and abdomen. You stopped mid-movement to clutch your stomach, clearly in pain.

“Y/n?” he asked. Between your noises in pain and his questioning, you had the attention of everyone in the room and quickly felt yourself turn red. “Is this what I think it is?” 

“Yeah, I think it was,” you responded once the contraction subsided.

“Merlin!” Hermione gasped, and Fred only turned stark white and didn’t know what to do.

“Is it time?” Ginny asked, sounding more than a bit concerned. Her voice matched the face of everyone else in the room.

“No, I don’t think so. That’s the first contraction I’ve ever had. It’s either my body giving me a little ‘preparation’ one or this is early labour.” Fred winced at ‘labour’.

“Could it be false contractions?” Molly asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t think so. Dr. Bloom said that at this far along any contractions are probably real. She also said that I wouldn’t be able to talk through them, which I couldn’t, and that they’d last at least forty-five seconds. Was anyone timing that, by chance?” you chuckled, expecting the answer to be no.

“Actually, yes,” Hermione spoke up, “fifty-two seconds precisely.”

“Do… do we need to go to the hospital?” Fred asked, finally out of his daze and finally able to speak. 

“No, dear,” you and Molly both said. You took a deep breath before continuing, “Dr. Bloom said early labour is confirmed when you have at least two an hour that are forty-five to sixty-five seconds long. And to notify her and get to the hospital when they are five minutes apart and at least two minutes long, or whenever my water breaks.” Fred winced again at that. “There’s still a chance that could’ve just been a… warning contraction,” you said looking around the room, “Even if this is labour, can we please go about the day normally? I’d like to enjoy Christmas.”

“Of course, love,” Molly said, “but you’re going to the hospital as soon as it’s time, Christmas or not.”

About forty minutes later, you had another contraction. You were in the kitchen talking to Bill as he was washing up dishes from breakfast. 

“So have you and Fred gotten the nursery set up? I’d sure hope so considering you’re in labour,” he chuckled.

“Well I may not be in la-” you groaned in pain as the second contraction hit.

“Y/n? Is it-” You could only nod your head in response.

“Well I guess I’m in labour,” you chuckled.

“Forty-nine seconds,” he told you, and you were grateful he had counted. You thanked him and walked off to find Fred after assuring him you were completely fine.

Bill finished up and everyone was in the living room. You came back downstairs to share the news. “Looks like I’m officially in labour, everyone!” You were met with cheers, everyone knew it would be soon considering you were overdue.

As the day went on you kept having contractions, and it was like the world would stop spinning whenever one would hit you. Whoever you were in the room with would stop whatever they were doing, count the time for you, and not resume their actions until triple-checking that you were okay. You had also been keeping track of the minutes between contractions, holding steady at about thirty-five. You and Fred went to bed early that night as you were so exhausted from the contractions. You could barely sleep as the contractions kept coming. You’d hoped that they would just hurry up and get you into active labour, but they stayed at no less than thirty-three minutes apart.

Another contraction woke you up the next morning after what couldn’t have been more than an hour of sleep. You just stared at the ceiling, uncomfortable until the contraction passed. Fifty-six seconds. You assumed it was rather early as Fred, George, and Angelina were still asleep. You wandered downstairs, expecting mostly everyone to be awake, thinking it was a normal hour knowing the twins always sleep in. Instead you were welcomed by early morning darkness, save for Percy and his small table lamp. 

“It’s barely even six, what’re you doing up?”

“Barely slept, didn’t realize how early it was.” He shrugged and put his book down for you. The third-born Weasley was quite a unique being. Priding himself on his neatness, intelligence, and punctuality, he was already dressed in his daily suit. Come to think of it, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him in anything other than a suit.

“Still only a half hour apart?” he asked as he headed to the kitchen.

“Unfortunately,” you sighed, “twenty hours now, Percy.” He sighed in content as he handed you a mug of tea, which you then thanked him for.

“What do they feel like? Is it terribly painful?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say painful. It’s more like pressure and squeezing. I’m sure they’ll hurt more in active labour.” And as you finished your sentence a contraction hit you.

“Merlin,” Percy said when it was over, “that was sixty-one seconds, y/n.”

“That’s the longest one yet,” you said, looking slightly concerned, “and I had one when I woke up, which couldn’t have been more than twenty-five minutes ago.”

“Well I guess things are finally speeding up, eh?” You smiled at him as you sipped your tea. You had always taken a liking to Percy. Sure he was nearly two years older than you, but you had always had the most in common. You can recall all of the late night conversations you’d shared in the Hogwarts library when you and Fred had just started dating.

*** 

It was around four that afternoon and your labour was finally starting to move along. You were just so happy to be almost done with pregnancy that it was like a little celebration everytime you had a contraction, although they were getting more painful. You were out in the garden with Fleur when another one hit.

“Exactly! So these rose-” you froze in pain, the worst it had been yet. You could see Fleur counting silently, her lips moving and eyes darting around in concentration. When it was over you let out a tired yet excited sigh. “How long?” you asked eagerly.

“Seventy seconds, mademoiselle!” you had confided in Fleur about your struggles and she was now just as relieved as you were. “How long since the last?”

“Fifteen minutes!” You practically cheered. You had been in labour for thirty hours now, and not even active labour yet, and you were over it. 

The day went on and the contractions got closer and closer together, but of course more and more painful. By eight that night they were nine minutes apart and Molly made you sit on the couch, not allowing you to get up. “I know it’s not time to go yet, but you need your rest, y/n,” she said, “you have a lot of work ahead of you. Let me get you some tea, love.” She gave you a sympathetic smile before walking away. 

Not ten seconds later you groaned loudly in pain as another contraction hit you. Luckily Ron had been in the living room and was crouching at your side in an instant. You whimpered as the pain took over, just wanting it to end. The contraction finally subsided as Ron was running his hand up and down your leg. “Eighty-two seconds now, y/n. Almost there!” He gave his lopsided smile before standing up. “That one seemed bad, are you okay?”

“That one was pretty bad, but I’m fine. Thank you , Ron.” He smiled again before returning to his seat. Molly had been in the doorway and was smiling proudly at her son. She handed you your mug of tea.

“Let me go fetch Fred, love. He’s been outside with Georgie shoveling snow but I’m sure you’d rather have him with you.” She walked off before you could thank her or respond.

Moments later Fred joined you on the couch. Laying back and settling you between his legs so he could place his hands on your belly. His warmth enveloped you and would surely be comforting with the next contraction. “Hi, love,” he whispered, “how are you?”

“Miserable, Freddie,” you answered honestly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he kissed your head. A few minutes later another contraction hit and you tensed against Fred. He gently rubbed your belly and whispered in your ear, helping you through it.

“Eighty-five seconds,” Ron piped up. “Getting closer!”

You smiled at him, silently thanking him. “I think I just want to go to bed now.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, dear,” Molly said, “you’re getting very close and if your water breaks while you're asleep you may not notice.”

“I probably won’t be doing much sleep, but I know I shouldn’t go up.”

“Just relax, darling,” Fred whispered, “I’m right here, you’ll be okay.”

It was now ten thirty, and your contractions were now just under seven minutes apart and very very painful. A particularly bad one hit you as you let out a small scream, you were breathing heavy when it was over. The entire group was in the living room, practically watching your every move.

“Just shy of two minutes, y/n.” Ginny said.

“Thank you,” you said. “You can all go to bed,” you addressed the group, “it’s late.”

“Nonsense!” George said, “We aren’t sleeping until you have those babies.” Everyone nodded and agreed with him.

“I think it’s time to head to the hospital, love,” Fred said.”

“No, Fred,” you replied, a little more sternly than you had intended. “They aren’t five minutes apart yet and they aren’t two minutes long.”

“Love, you’re in a lot of pain and the contractions are barely seven minutes apart any more. That last one was three seconds shy of two minutes.”

“I said no, Fred. I will when they get to six minutes, okay?” He just sighed and placed another kiss on your head.

An hour went by and you were seemingly stuck at seven minutes apart. The pain wasn’t any worse or any better, it was as if you were stuck in labour limbo. You’d been in labour for thirty eight hours now. Various Weasleys had drifted in and out of sleep, but everyone remained relatively alert and they all were at attention when a contraction hit. And after a few more minutes, one did. You let out a louder cry as this one was particularly bad.

“Merlin, that was only six minutes since the last one!” Charlie said, realising what this meant. “Two minutes and two seconds.”

“Love, can we please go now?” Fred asked. “You promised we would when they were six minutes apart.”

“Just a few more contractions, Freddie. They may not stay that close, it could go back up.” Fred only groaned.

“Y/n,” Molly began, “you know I love you but that’s not usually how that works. Speaking from experience, you know I have done this a few times, I think you should go.”

“I don’t want to…” you muttered quietly, but mostly everyone still heard due to the night time silence.

“What’s that, love?” Fred asked.

“I don’t want to go.”

“Well I know you don’t just yet, we can wait a little bit if you’d really like.”

“No, Fred, I don’t want to go at all.”

“Pardon? I don’t think mum would like it very much if you had our babies on her couch.”

“I scared Fred,” you whimpered, holding back tears which inevitably came down. Everyone in the room was looking at you with either concern, sympathy, or both. “I can’t do this… I can’t do this…” you were fully crying now.

“Love, what do you mean? Of course you can do this. You’ve been carrying our babies for nearly ten months now. You’re the strongest woman I know, you can do anything.”

“I know, I’m just scared that something bad is going to happen.” Molly crouched down next to you when she heard that.

“Y/n, I was bloody terrified the first time. We were so young just like you and Fred were. I had all of the same feelings, and believe it or not they all came back again with the twins even though I’d done it three times before. I’ll be honest, having a baby isn’t easy, especially when you do it twice in one day, but I know how strong you are and I know you can do this.” She took your hand in hers and smiled at you. “So would you like to go to the hospital now, love?”

Everyone in the room looked at you expectantly awaiting your answer. You could hear the collective sigh of relief when you nodded your head. The house was quickly alive in an instant. Molly helped you to your feet, everyone put on their winter jackets, Fred called Dr. Blom, and George grabbed the hospital bags. In an instant you had all apparated away to the hospital where you were quickly ushered into a room. The nurse had gotten you situated and into the bed as the Weasley family removed their coats and hats as they found places to sit or stand around the room. Your contractions were four minutes apart now and your water had broken. Fred and George stood on either side of you, squeezing your hands and helping you through each contraction however you needed. Dr. Bloom burst into the room a few minutes later, looking rather peppy for it being midnight, as she began to ask you all the standard questions. You had started to answer, but Fred took over when another contraction hit. Dr. Bloom estimated you had about twenty more minutes to go. Your contractions were now two minutes apart and lasted nearly three minutes. You were showered with words of encouragement from all around the room and George and Fred kept your hair out of your face and rubbed your shoulders. Just as Dr. Bloom has estimated, twenty minutes later she declared that you were ready. “Alrighty! Everyone except the father out!”, a nurse declared as the room burst into a flurry of activity.

“You heard her, love,” Fred began, “out you go.”

You wanted to laugh at his joke but another contraction came over you. “Alright Mrs. Weasley,” Dr. Bloom said, “you can start pushing now!”

About ten minutes of horrible pain later, Dr. Bloom announced, “here’s the first baby, born 12:34 am on December 27, 2002!”

You and Fred both began to cry as the screaming baby was placed on your chest. Sure she

was red and wrinkly, but she was yours. “Ready for round two, Mrs. Weasley?” After a longer amount of time Dr. Bloom spoke up again, “And here’s baby number two! Born 12:50 am on December 27, 2002!” The second baby was placed on your chest and you and Fred were still crying. After a short time, two nurses came to clean the babies up as Dr. Bloom finished what she was doing. Not ten minutes later the babies were handed back to you in their little caps and hospital blankets. 

“They’re beautiful, love. Fantastic job.”

“Thank you, Freddie. But I suppose you had a part in this as well.” You both chuckled as

Fred gently ran his finger over the cheek of the baby closest to him. The girls weren’t identical, but they may as well have been. Every single feature was the same, all except the hair. Both girls were born with a full head of hair, and the only difference between the two was that one had the trademark Weasley red hair and the other had your hair color. The rest of their features were practically a direct copy of Fred. “Would you like to hold your daughters?”

Fred nearly fainted at those words, his daughters, he gently cradled each baby in his arms, whispering to each of them. “Hi, loves. I’m your dad. And that’s your mum over there, she’s the bravest woman you’ll ever meet. I can’t wait to bring you two home.” You practically melted at his words. After a while longer the rest of the Weasleys were brought in and welcomed by you and Fred, who each had one baby. They all remarked over how both girls looked just like Fred, and how the hair was the only difference.

After a moment you spoke up once everyone surrounded the bed and you had their attention. “Everyone,” you began, slightly holding up the red-haired baby in your arms, “this is Cassiopeia Ginevra Weasley.”

“And this,” Fred began with the other little girl in his arms, “is Calliope Molly Weasley.” There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as everyone admired the newest Weasleys.

“You did have the names picked out!” Bill exclaimed. Molly and Ginny were crying the most, looking overjoyed at the babies named after them.

“I love the names, y/n,” Percy said, “you could call them Callie and Cassie for short.” There was a collective ‘awww’ around the room as everyone had realised what you and Fred had done.

After another hour or so of everyone admiring the babies, you started to drift off to sleep. Everyone agreed it was time to be heading home to give you so much-needed rest. You quickly fell asleep, happy to not have to worry about contractions anymore, as Fred set the girls in their little carts before sitting in the chair beside your bed.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispered, “and our new family.”

[bunnyywritings]

Hi! I'm glad to have found your blog!😊 can I ask for 3 and 5 from the prompt list with Shoto Todoroki pls? Todoroki and reader are best friends (secretly with feelings for each other)? And could it be aged up! to college age please if that's okay? (oh, and one last thing, sorry for asking so much👉👈 if possible without spoilers from the manga or heroes rising movie pls? I still need to catch up on those) thank u so much💕💕 and i'm sorry for being annoying with so many questions

it’s about time

AgedUp!Shoto Todoroki x gn!reader

prompts #3 “I’ve got you.” & #5 “I’ll always be here.”

[a/n: lmao I have absolutely no good reason for this gif but Hello there my love! I’m glad you find my blog too 🥺 no need to apologize, you weren’t being annoying at all❣️I really enjoyed writing this one. I avoided any spoilers, there’s mention of the USJ attack but that was season one so....yeah. Thank you so much for requesting✨ feel free to send in another any time! enjoy! -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´- ps. the prompts are in bold, there are mentions of alcohol and it gets a bit suggestive at the end 🥵]

Sendai Tech was the top university for heroes and those in hero support. Getting into uni was effortless. Graduating at the top of your class at UA was to thank for that. A lot of class 1-A went on to Sendai and some went straight into the hero business. You had been attending Sendai and working part-time patrols at Bakugou’s hero agency, he had risen in the ranks quite quickly, taking a spot in the top 5. Todoroki had also been working part-time patrols at Midoriya’s agency, refusing his father’s invitation for full time work. The both of you wanted to start an agency together so you had enrolled in the business course they offered at Sendai.

Why did Todoroki want to start an agency with you, you might ask? Well, the answer was quite simple yet still perplexing to some people. You were his best friend. Though neither of you cared to admit that the title ‘best friend’ wasn’t enough, you both wanted more than that but the fear of ruining a perfectly good friendship was strong. You had told yourself multiple times, you’d rather have him as a friend than not at all. And the possibility that admitting your feelings and not having them returned was painful.

You first met him when you were little. You heard someone crying as you made you way passed the towering fence that surrounded his home. You had been returning from playing with some of the neighborhood kids and you had offered him half your cookie. You learned his name and why he was sad. Needless to say, your hate for Endeavor started early on. You had never seen his face but you made your way to the fence every day after school to share your snacks and stories about your day with the sad boy but one day, he didn’t show up. One day turned into two, and three until you also decided to stop showing up. I wasn’t until your first day at UA did you find out what he looked like. He surprisingly remembered you and profusely apologized for suddenly disappearing and you picked up where you left off.

Natsuo and Fuyumi knew about this and would be adamant about asking their little brother when he’d finally admit his feelings to you during their weekly sibling dinners only to roll their eyes when he said, ‘She sees me as a friend and nothing more. I don’t really plan on risking our friendship with a stupid lapse of judgment.’

It was the same for Bakugou and Eijiro when you’d go get drinks with them on Friday nights. They’ve known about your crush since high school. Heck, everyone did. And they were getting tired of hearing your drunken pining about the icy-hot boy.

“Look idiot, stop crying over how much you love him...you’re ruining the vibe.” Bakugou grumbled as you pouted at him.

“There’s no need to be rude, you angry explosion freak. I will cry over a boy for as long as I want.” You slurred, taking a bite of a chicken wing.

“You wouldn’t need to cry over one if you just told him how you feel. It’s that simple.” He leaned back against the couch, lazily taking a sip of his beer. Kirishima chuckled at the deja vu that suddenly hit him.

Every Friday you’d go over to their shared apartment for beers and pizza. Usually to relax after a stressful week of school and work, and without fail, you and Bakugou would have the exact same conversation. It was like clockwork. Exactly after two beers and three or four slices of pizza later, you’d confess your love for Shoto Todoroki before turning gloomy and pouting that he’d never love you the same way. You’d usually pout while eating a chicken wing or two. This never failed to amuse the red head. No matter how much Bakugou complained, he had a soft spot for you. During your days at UA, Mina and Denki had taken it upon themselves to let you into the Baku-squad after passing the 𝓋𝒾𝒷𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀. Since then, Bakugou had complained and complained but once he saw that you were powerful enough to hold your own during the USJ attack, he deemed you worthy of his respect. Thus meaning you had earned his friendship as well. Many of their classmates had gotten together after graduation, even Bakugou admitted that he had feelings for the spiky red head sitting next to him.

“Come on (y/n), you should tell him. I think you’d be surprised with how silly you’re being.” Kirishima grinned his usual happy go-lucky grin.

“Exactly! You’re not a wimp, are you? Even that idiot Deku confessed to chubby cheeks already! Are you trying to tell me that you’re wimpier than broccoli head!?”

“Maybe I am a wimp.” You stick your tongue out childishly at the angry blonde.

“I don’t remember hiring a wimp.”

“Well you did, so deal with it.” You frowned as you took a greedy sip of the beer you were nursing.

After a couple of hours later, you were drunk. Very, very drunk. And it wasn’t too pretty. You were an emotional drunk, with only two available emotions. Sad and angry. Both Bakugo and Kirishima were glad it seemed you were the former, this time around. Snuggling as you settled onto their couch.

“Uh Uh. Nope!” Bakugou tutted. “You are not staying the night.”

“But Bakubro!” You whined, hugging a pillow cushion to your chest. “You know who is in my dorm.” You looked around cautiously. “Shoto is in there.” You whispered as if it were the biggest secret in the planet.

“That’s what you get for requesting him as a dorm mate. Now come on.” He lifted you up and tossed you over his shoulder. “You’re lucky I’m switching my afternoon patrol with your morning one. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you patrol hungover.” He grabbed your bag and made his way to the door. “Eiji, give me my wallet. I’m getting her a cab.”

“You’re not gonna leave her by herself, are you?”

“Of course not.” He hissed, “What kind of idiot do you take me for? Why the hell would I leave her alone like this.” He pointed at your slouched form for emphasis.

Once out in the chilly evening, he called a cab. Thankful that there were still some running at 1am. He grabbed your phone and found Shoto’s contact, holding the phone to his ear with one hand and holding your head up with the others as he huffed in annoyance when the line kept ringing and ringing before it finally stopped.

“H-hello? (Y/n)?” The groggy voice on the other end spoke first.

“I’m on my way to drop off your idiot, half and half bastard. You better be outside to help them up to your dorm.” And he hung up. Confused, Todoroki got out of bed and slipped on a sweater and some sneakers before heading down to the lobby. Eyes squinted with discomfort at the sudden bright lights of the hallway. He stepped outside and stood at the curb. He was slightly concerned, he knew that Bakugou and Kirishima wouldn’t let anything happen to you but why did he need to help you? Did you get hurt? His thoughts were quelled when a cab pulled in right in front of him. Bakugou had stepped out first, helping you out after him and grumbling at the driver to wait.

“She drank too much. Make sure she doesn’t choke on her own vomit or something.”

“Thanks Bakugou.” He mumbled as he steadied you on your feet.

“Bye Bakubro~!” You waved cheerily.

“Yeah whatever. I expect you to be at the agency at 1pm sharp. Get some rest.”

“Yes sir!” You exaggerated a salute as he rolled his eyes and got back into the cab. Todoroki’s eyes widened when you slung your arms around his neck and cuddled into him.

“You’re so warm Shoto.” The way you had basically purred his name made his cheeks flush a deep red.

“R-right.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s get you inside.” You decided to wrap your legs around his waist, finding great comfort in being in his arms. He obliged and hooked his hands under your thighs to make sure you wouldn’t fall and as he made his way back inside, he tried to ignore the feeling of your plush thighs against his palms. Locking the door to your shared dorm behind him, he made his way to your room. He placed you gently on your bed, kneeling down to unlace your shoes and pull them off your feet.

“You’re so gentle, Sho...” you hummed sleepily, eyes closed with a cute grin on your lips. He left your comment unanswered seeing that he’d be a stuttering mess if he had. He made his way over to the head of the bed and combed your hair back.

“Sweet dreams, (y/n).” He kissed a feather soft kiss on your forehead. He chuckled when you made a soft grunt of disapproval when his warmth left you.

“Sho...don’t leave me.” You whimpered, eyes slowly opening as they shone with tears. “Don’t go.” He frowned and couldn’t help but think that there was an underlying fear with that statement, other than just wanting to cuddle. So, he peeled off his hoodie and pulled back the covers and slid in next to you. In an instant, you clutched onto him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he nudged your chin with his knuckle, making you look right into those beautiful bicolored eyes. You tears had started to slide down your pink cheeks.

“I don’t want you to leave me, Shoto.”

“Why would I leave you?” He was confused, he knew this could just be an alcohol induced insecurity but he knew you enough to know that the fear in your eyes was genuine.

“Because I-“ you paused, unsure if now was the time. Sighing as the liquid courage urged you to continue. “Because I like you. More than I should, more than a best friend should. But I can’t help it and I don’t want to ruin what we already have by making you uncomfortable.”

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” His voice was small but you heard it as he ran his thumb softly over your cheekbone.

“Because you don’t feel the same.” He remained quiet. He was bewildered, you had feelings for him too. He couldn’t believe it. However, you had taken his stunned silence in a negative way and started to cry even more.

“Shh.” He cooed as he pulled you into his chest. “I’ve got you, don’t worry. I’ve got you.” He decided to leave this conversation for the morning when you’d actually remember. There you two had laid for the rest of the early morning. He was always reminded that he slept better with you in his arms. There were a bunch of things that he did much better with you there. And he couldn’t wait to tell you.

You were confused but pleased when you were met with the sight and feeling of Todoroki’s bare chest. He was always so warm. Not to mention how muscular he was. You definitely didn’t mind when he’d walk around the dorm shirtless right after a shower. The feeling of bile starting to make its way up your throat, you ripped yourself from his arms and ran to the bathroom. The sudden movement startled him awake and when he heard the retching noise come from the bathroom, he was quick to get in his feet and make his way to you. Pulling your hair from your face and rubbing four back soothingly as you expelled the contents of your stomach. Once you finished, you groaned. Staying in your position hunched over the toilet bowl just in case.

“Why don’t you take a shower. I’ll make you some breakfast.” He suggested softly as he helped you up. Embarrassed, you nodded quietly, watching as he shut the door behind him. Not bothering to lock it, you stripped and hopped in the shower. While you where in there, you tried to make sense of anything that happened the night before but all you could remember was being at Bakugou’s place, then a cab, then with Shoto and—The memory of the words you had exchanged swept through your mind and you groaned. Maybe he wouldn’t remember...right?

The cool water of the shower seemed to have soothed your hangover a bit as you made your way to your room and pulled on some sweats, grabbing Shoto’s hoodie from the ground and pulling that on as well. The smell of fresh coffee called you to the little kitchenette. Grabbing a mug gratefully, you leaned against the counter and took a sip of the dark liquid.

“So...do you remember anything from last night?” He asked tentatively, you gasped and inhaled some of the coffee. You coughed, putting the mug down and cleared your throat.

“I do.” You nodded slowly, a pink blush crawling up your neck. “And I understand if you want to go, sorry if-“

“Who said anything about going anywhere.” He cut you off, there was a sly smile playing on his lips. “I never said I didn’t feel the same way.”

“...”

“What?” He seemed amused at your confusion. “Wait, are you serious?” He approached you. His arms trapping you against the counter.

“I think—no. I know.” He looked down into your eyes, one hand coming up to caress your jaw. “I love you, (y/n). I have for a long time.” His confession made you feel warm inside, your heart swelling in happiness.

“I love you too, Sho.” Your lips met in a sweet kiss, lips moving together to convey all the pent up emotions you were feeling. You smiled into it as it got a bit more passionate. Your hands coming up to run through his hair.

Breathlessly, you pulled away.

“You never need to worry about me leaving. I’ll always be here.” He explained softly, nuzzling your nose with his.

“Really?” You asked happily.!

“Mhmm, you’re mine.” And with that, his lips met your hungrily. Lifting you up on the counter, and standing in between your legs. His hands gripped your hips as he began to trail kisses down your neck. Nibbling and tugging at the skin with his teeth. “And I’m gonna show you just how long I’ve waited.” His voice was deep with lust. Tugging down the bottoms you just changed into, he sunk to his knees in between your thighs.

Needless to say, he made you his. And you had no complaints.

You showed up to the Ground Zero Agency 5 minutes late.

“Oi! I thought I said to not be late!” Bakugou shouted as you put your bag in your locker.

“Sorry, I uh got preoccupied with something.” You stuttered as you avoided his eye line as you turned to face him. He smirked when he saw the bruised skin on your neck, your hero suit barely covering them.

“Eijiro!” He chuckled wildly. “You owe me $30!” Footsteps rushed into the room and there stood the red head with wide eyes.

“Finally!” He shouted. Pulling out his wallet and giving Bakugou the money. “I’m not even mad.” Grinning, he gave you a sly look. “It was about time.”

[diamondcamefromhell]

Jaskier x Fem!Reader

I need more Jaskier in my life and it's late and I cant find anything here so here you all go. Jaskier x Female Reader. My first ever imagine (how do you call these) to hit tumblr. It's like 1am and I wrote it real fast but I love Jaskier so it's worth it.

[ PART TWO ]

Summary: Y/N works at an inn, serving ale and cleaning barf and piss, when she meets Jaskier and Geralt and things change.

Warnings: Swearing, other than that, none.

Word count: 1,846

Needless to say, I tought if I heard ‘Toss a coin to your Witcher' one more time, I would break down. This song spread like wildfire and I don’t even know how it happened, I was minding my own buisiness – serving up ale and then a group of men came in singing it. Acording to them they heard it on the road. Now entire town sings it.

Even I catch myself humming it when I am cleaning spilled ale off the tables. However this time, when I was cleaning barf of the ground I heard a lute play the melody I could have recognized in my sleep.

That fucking song again.

I turn around, ready to cuss out whoever dares to play it, but I don’t recognize the man, if you can call him that, before me.

I can tell he's a bard, wearing pale blue matching set, hugging his lute. The top is unbuttoned just enough for chest hair to peep through. His hair is neatly brushed, his grey eyes scanning the crowd.

Until they meet mine and my heart stops as a bard smirks at me, continuening the song. I hear someone yell ‘the Witcher' and only then I notice a giant behind the singer.

White hair, yellow eyes. I could see his swords from here, who needs two of them anyways? He was dressed in all in black, weirdly contrasting the bard.

The song ends and men cheer, but the bard keeps his eyes on me, bravely approaching.

“Beaware of the barf.” I point out, as his eyes drop to the ground and he giggles.

“A lady like yourself, cleaning vomit of the floor? You should have knights lining up to bewed you.” He extends his arm, and I give mine, he gracefully places his lips on top. “I’m Jaskier, the great bard travelling with Geralt of Rivia himself.”

“Y/N. Just a woman serving up ale.” Jaskier smiles at my words.

“May I serve ale for Lady Y/N?” Not sure how to respond I rest the mop on the side of the table, allowing the bard guide me to a different one.

I have to admit, I was never treated so nicely. Many drunken men try to impress me, but then again, they go for anyone who looks like a woman. I sit down as bard rushes to the bar, I cant hear what he says to the Witcher but he looks annoyed.

Moments later Jaskier places ale in front of me, siting next to me, but not too close. I sip the drink, but Jaskier doesn’t take his eyes off me.

“You beauty is worth a song.” I blush, flattered by the compliment.

“Hopefully not as annoying as the Witcher one.” I tease him, looking at Geralt, seemingly annoyed at the world and chuging his ale.

“You do not like my song?” Bard sounds offended so I look at him, smiling.

“Not when I have to listen to it all the time. Drunken men don’t sound the best.” He frowns, glancing around the room. “You sounded great. What are you doing here, anyways?”

“Stopped for a break. Roach needs to rest too.” Now I am the one that frowns.

“Roach?” I ask and bard laughs. My heart skips a beat.

“Geralt's horse.” Jaskier winks at me. “I would advice not touching her. Or even looking at her.”

“Got it, Witcher likes his horse.” Bard smiles, gulping his ale. There is something behind his eyes I can't quite read.

“You seem sad.” I decide eventually and he looks surprised.

“What do you mean, Y/N?” he gives me his most genuine smile. Before I can speak, I hear someone shout.

“Aye, Y/N, care to bring us some ale? We working men don’t have all day so sit around and wait for you to finish flirting. We pay good coin, so do your fucking job.” My cheeks flush red.

I stutter something to Jaskier, standing up and rushing to the bar, where the bartender is already preparing the ale. I see Witcher staring at me, but I ignore that, bringing the ale to the angry men.

“Next time, you will get to work free of your coin.” One of them hisses at me. He's clearly drunk. “And clean that vomit, woman!”

I grit my teeth but feel tears prick my eyes. ‘Fuck this’, I think, still rushing to the mop. I don’t notice a shadow looming over me until Geralt lands his hand on the table near me. I see anxious bard behind him.

“I thought maybe Geralt could help.” I hear the bard say but my eyes stay on the vomit.

“Witchers kill monsters, not men.” I glance at Geralt who hmms at my words. “Besides they’re right. It’s a shitty job, but I get my coin. I get to eat and sleep because of it.”

“You are far to beautiful to be bound to a place like this.” Bard argues, but I cant look at him. I’m ashamed. “You need a garden, not a mud pit.”

“Beauty doesn’t pay for bread, I am afraid.” I hear men grunt behind me, getting annoyed again. “Thank you for the offer. I must continue working now.”

I can barely turn around to face the inn again before in keepers angry voice fills the room.

“You wont get coin for today, you lazy bitch.” I stop in my tracks. I hear Geralt grunt behind me, and bard uttering something.

“That's not fair." Jaskier then steps next to me, holding onto his lute as if it’s a shield. “Lady Y/N can have a little chat if she wishes to do so.”

“She's barely a lady, look at her.” Men scoff, and bar fills with laughter. I feel sick.

“I have looked at her and she strikes me as a Lady, true noblewoman.” The bar fills with laughter once again and I take a step back.

“Listen bard, if you want her, take her. She's useless as is, she can barely clean up shit, what else she’s good for?” My cheeks set ablaze as I take one more step back before I bump into, what I can only guess, is Geralt.

I manage to apolgize, rushing around him running out of the inn. Once outside, a horse neighs and I stop in my tracks, looking at what I guess is Roach. The horse I was strongly advised to ignore.

I still step closer to her. A brown beauty, looking healthy and well fed. I have my own horse, black as the night, the only other being I ever cared about. My only escape from piss and ale. I undersand why Geralt prefers if nobody touches his horse. I feel the same about Sky.

The horse neighs again, but before I can do much else the inn doors fly open. And I mean fly, the whole thing drops to the street. To my surprise, Roach doesn’t seem bothered, like she's used to it.

I see a drunk man on top of the door, realizing that he was probably thrown at it. I see pale blue figure approach me and a anxious bard grabs my hand.

“We need to go, Geralt will be fine.” I glance at Roach, but bard drags me away. “Horse will be fine too.”

“I need to get Sky! My horse.” Jaskier grunts but stops, I hang onto his palm tighter, rushing around the inn, where my black stallion is waiting for me. “Come here boy, let's go for a run.”

I climb on the horse, extending my arm to the bard, who lands behind me, wrapping his hands around my waist.

Adrenaline rushes through my body as I hurry Sky into the forest, out of town. Jaskier orders me to stop and I see an old campsite. I guess Geralt will find us here. I jump off the horse as does Jaskier. I look at him as he laughs.

“This will make a great song. A damsel in distress.” I roll my eyes at this, petting Sky. My heart feels like it’s about to burst. “I am so sorry you had to pull up with that, Y/N.”

“You rescued me.” I wink at the bard, making him blush. “My knight in shining armour.”

“How could I not.” He steps closer to me, extending his arms. I rush in for a hug, and a surprising relief of tears washes over me. I sob as the bard rubs my back.

I hear neighing and a thump, followed by an angry grunt. Geralt. I pull away from Jaskier, looking at the Witcher, who was staring at us.

“Thank you.” I say, wiping tears away. His expression softens a little, but when he looks at Jaskier, he seems to grow angry again.

“If it weren’t for this bard trying to be a bigger man, there would have been no fight, he was going to lose if I didn’t step in.” Jaskier protests but Geralt just turns away to pet Roach. I look at this duo, this weird bond between them.

As annoyed as Geralt acts, he did save his friend. And he approached me to help me, even if the bard annoyed him to do so.

I wish I could have a friend like that.

“Y/N?” Jaskier pulls me out of my mind and I look at the bard, who still seems sad.

“Jaskier.” I respond and he grabs my hand. I feel a chill of something rush down my spine. I don’t want him to let go.

“You could stay with us a little. Until you figure out what to do.” He speaks fast, clearly anxious. I can see Witcher is listening, even if he pretends he has no interest. “Free of your coin. Roach could have a friend too.”

“Hmm.” An annoyed one is all I get from Geralt who is now eyeing down Sky.

“I don’t want to trouble you anymore.” I say, praying he argues with me and asks me to stay again. And so he does.

“Oh such a lady traveling with us would never trouble us, right Geralt?” This time there’s only silence. Jaskier squeezes my hand tighter. “Please.”

“Only for a little while.” I give in, my heart fluttering in my chest, butterflies in my stomach. The sadness in bards eyes also seems to go away.

Then I get it. He was lonely. From his Witcher song, and I bet many other ballads I will hear, he truly cares for Geralt. They are best friends and companions. But this pale blue dressed boy needs constant love and appreciation to feel fully complete. For better or worse, Gerlant cant provide that.

I squeeze his hand back and he beams at me, until he lets go and pulls out a lute, strining a melody and already singing a song.

I see Geralt going to Sky, allowing him to sniff his hand. My horse neighs and I see Geralt smile a little.

I guess I now know the two people from the ballad I hated so much. And they are the best ones I have ever met.

PART TWO

PART THREE

[experimentalmadness]

Visitation

More Harvey Dent and OC nonsense featuring my trash-fire of a character, Jacky Ripley. This is still set prior to any villain shenanigans on Harvey’s part, but only just. Jacky tries to sneak into the hospital to see him after the attack, but things go...wrong.

No real warnings, but a content check that an unstable character does refer to herself in less than great mental health terms.

---

It was late. It was raining—as usual. And she was making stupid choices on purpose.

The hospital looked like something out of a nightmare. Stark, backlit with a glowing fluorescent from the ER  driveway. Jacky was soaked through her jeans and sweater. Her hair was plastered to her face even with the hoodie up.

Cop cars littered the parking lot, lights flaring without sirens making it look like even more surreal.

Jacky couldn’t feel her feet, couldn’t feel her legs. Didn’t really notice as she approached the building. She couldn’t go inside. That clarity kept her grounded in only mild stupidity instead of outright suicidal idiocy. Scaling a building at 1am in the rain was not her favorite task, but she had done it countless times before for work.

She’d have to mount the ledges and sidle along the entire circumference.

She couldn’t ask which room he was in.

Miri told her she shouldn’t go. Couldn’t go.

Gilda had left ten messages on her phone since last week.

Jacky, I know I can’t ask…

Jacky, he would want….

Jacky, please answer….

Jacky rushed over to the bushes to vomit. Hands and knees, stomach cramping so hard and so sudden her back arched in pain. Her throat burned, her eyes watered. It tasted like the bottle of whiskey she had downed in earnest. Funny, she didn’t feel drunk. She felt more sober than she had in her entire life.

Climbing the hospital felt even more impossible now with her limbs shaking every which way. She could barely see through the rain. Just as she was psyching herself up to make the first jump even thought she’d probably miss, fall, and break even bone in her stupid body; she was hoisted off the ground by one leg. With a grunt that gave way to a dull scream, Jacky went flying upwards through the rain, shooting straight up to the roof. She bobbed precariously over the edge of the building, headfirst. Her first thought was this was certainly odd, the second was that if she died right now it would be quick.

“I’m surprised it took this long for Moroni to send someone to finish the job,” a grating voice growled at her in the darkness.

“I...who…?” she couldn’t see through the rain and shadow, and being held upside down certainly did not help. “I don’t work for Moroni.”

Something pushed her, causing her to spin round, facing the skylights. “Falcone then.” A shadow moved past the lights, and the voice spoke with authority. Whoever it was it knew her old boss. Age-old reflex made her anxious until Jacky remembered everyone in Gotham knew her boss now, and knew exactly who she really was. Three months out of prison was not long enough for people to forget the Ripper case.

But whoever this was, was no cop.

Jacky had an inkling. It did not comfort her.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

“The string of dismemberments at Flannigan’s begs to differ.”

How did he know about that? No one should know about that for the next five hours by her own calculations. She kept her mouth shut. He had no proof. Moroni’s men deserved it. She’d killed her career and put a price on her head in the same stroke, and she’d do it again. Jacky felt wild in a way she knew wasn’t the whiskey. She kept the crazy all shut in, but tonight it just had to come out. She’d made it hurt. She’d done it special; crazy only came out when Falcone wanted a message sent. This one was the first time she’d done a message all of her own.

“I wanted to see Harvey.” Crazy went right back into its box as she heard his name out of her own mouth, desperate, raspy, pathetic.

“Why?” The Batman jerked on the line keeping her suspended.

Because if she hadn’t told Harvey to stay away from her after her release from Blackgate she’d have known how in deep he was in going after Moroni. Because if she hadn’t bought into Harvey convincing her she still had a chance, that she could be a better woman, she wouldn’t have stopped working for Falcone and she could have heard about the hit. Because if she hadn’t lied in the first place she’d be a normal woman inside the hospital taking care of her friend. Because if she just had minded her own business the first day that stupid man had come into her shop she wouldn’t be here right now….

“I just wanna know how he is.”

“That line might have worked on the nurses, it won’t on me.”

“It’s the only line I got.”

Jacky was exhausted. She swung out and back from the roof to the abyss, her head going numb from being upside down so long. That was it then. Her grand plan to sneak into Harvey’s room, no muss no fuss, and back out was a bust. Batman didn’t make a move to haul in the line. She was sure he was going to drop her off in one of the cop cars below and tell the others to arrest her on trespassing, and hell, why not add murder to the list of offenses. No sense in being coy now.

“Is he dying?” Saying the fear out loud made her stomach cramp up again.

Silence from the Batman. He still thought she worked for Falcone. He still thought this was some play for ulterior information. He wasn’t going to believe her and he was right! He shouldn’t. She’d spent so much time lying and playing innocent shop girl no one should believe her ever again. And here was a fitting punishment. For the first time Jacky struggled on the line. The drop of crazy made her dizzy. It was only to be used for Miri’s sake, for the family, for money when she could make it work for them. “If he’s dying I just wanted to see him before...you don’t have to trust me. You can arrest me. I just need to know. Tell me...TELL ME, OR I’LL…”

“Or you’ll do what, Jacqueline?”

The sound of her full name gave her pause. Batman finally lowered her to the roof, cutting the cable and letting her fall in a shivering heap. She pulled herself to her feet, balling her cold hands into fists. “I’ll make it hurt.” Now that, assuredly, was the whiskey talking.

But it was going to hurt. She hoped it did. She deserved it.

Jacky winced when, instead of a punch, a hand descended on her shoulder. The strength of the grip was frightening. It rooted her in place, but offered no violence. “He’s not dying, Jacquline.”

“Oh, that’s good,” was all she managed before she burst into tears.

The hand on her shoulder was all that prevented her from giving way and sinking to the floor. Harvey wasn’t going to die. Things could still be okay. She’d be going back to Blackgate, but that was where she belonged anyway, no point in running from it. She could write to him in prison, but she wouldn’t. Because she was a coward in her core.

“S-sorry. Thank you. You can arrest me now,” she sniffed, straightening, looking up directly into the masked eyes of the Batman.

“Come with me.”

The hand never moved from her shoulder as she was shoved along. Batman booted open the roof access hatch and forced her down into the stairwell. Everything echoed inside. The rain falling off her clothes, her skin, plinking onto the metal stairs. The thick boots the Batman was wearing in lock step with her own, softer, sneakered tred. And he never said another word, just marched her down flight after flight. Around and around.

Back to prison. Miri would be so upset. She had forgiven her once, Jacky doubted she would a second time. She had tried to be a good sister, the little double act she had between their shared bakery and her night errands for Falcone had only been for her sake. But this city beat most people down eventually and Jacky knew at some point the killing hadn’t really ever been just a paycheck had it?

At least Gotham hadn’t claimed Harvey. It had tried. He’d still show them. That was enough to live with. She hoped Gilda would be alright. Maybe she could sneak one quick phone call to at least tell her how sorry she was she had stayed away. The DA and his wife shouldn’t be seen in the company of a convicted killer. She had just been trying to help. She’d only ever just wanted to help.

The white light of the hospital blinded Jacky for a moment, but Batman kept her moving. Nurses and doctors parted in quiet shock as they made their way through. No one was going to argue with the Batman, especially not when he was holding a perp. The brand of killers he brought in were on another level far beyond her. Maybe she should feel flattered. Mostly she just felt tired.

They stopped at a door, that grip tightening to levels that made Jacky grind her teeth. “If you try to make a break for the window,” he growled. “You’ll be caught before you hit the ground.”

“What?”

He opened the door, shoving her inside, releasing her. She could feel him still in the darkened room. This was not an arrest. There were no cops in here. Just the steady beep of a heart monitor and…

“Harvey?”

For a man who always made life feel so much larger than it actually was it was so much harder to see him lying in the small hospital bed than Jacky had anticipated. She waited for some trick from the Batman, turning back to face him. He only stood in the shadows, watching. She allowed herself to move towards the bed.

Gauze and mesh covered the left half of his face, his neck, and his arm. She knew the extent of the attack from the news. There would be scars. And that was the best news ever, because scars meant he’d be alive.

She jumped when he shifted on the bed. Jacky hadn’t counted on him being awake. She didn’t want him to see her! She backed up into the dark. “Jacky?”

His voice was not his own. Maybe the acid had damaged his vocal chords.

Caught, she stood in limbo between the bedside and the door. “Hey.”

“How did...you get...in?”

“Light breaking and entering. I...I didn’t mean to disturb you. I know I shouldn’t have come, but…” If she cried again, warning or no warning, she was going to throw herself out that window.

“Shut up,” he snapped, grabbing her hand. “I’m glad to...see...you.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I don’t think I can stay long, my escort won’t let me,” she gestured back to the moving shadows behind her. “But you’re gonna heal up fine.” This was the part where she was supposed to say she was grateful he wasn’t dying, or dead. Where she said because he was the most important friend in her life and losing him was unfathomable. But she didn’t.

“Doctors...won’t let me see. It’s...not good...is it?”

“Think how intimidating you’re gonna look in court. You’ll win by default.”

A gurgling, raspy, laugh was her only reward. “Think you can...stay?” His hand gripped her tighter and Jacky almost wanted to tear herself in half.

“Don’t think my escort is gonna let me, Harv. I...I did something bad tonight. I’ll probably be back in Blackgate by the time you get out of here. And I’m sorry. I let you down.” She could feel him staring at her. His one good eye, searching hers, that grip pulling her closer.

“What did you do?”

The grip on her hand turned into a claw, nails digging into flesh so hard it hurt. He didn’t sound angry, and she didn’t stop him. “Got some of Moroni’s guys. It was worse than what you brought me up for. I’m sorry, Harvey, but they deserved it. I only wanted—”

“Payback.”

The pain medication was what made him sound so cold. Just the drugs making him a little confused.  Even in the dark she could see the outline of a smile that was and was not his.

“Jacky, we always knew...there was a reason...we liked you.”

[timextoxhajima]

Hae Young dragged herself across the boardwalk, the bright lights blinding her. She had just been dumped by her ex, Jimin, and Taehyung being the boy who picked on her a lot at school, had found her in the bar drinking alone, and it took him awhile to get her out of that blasted place onto an open space by the river.

"How did you get in? You're 16, not 18." Taehyung rolled his eyes, following her. 

"It’s called…being smart." Hae Young burped, almost vomiting. 

"You need to get back to the dorms you know." Taehyung stuffed his hands into his pocket, watching her figure twist and turn in that black skin tight dress of hers. Why was she even dressed this way?

 "Anniyo! It's off school terms! I can stay out, as late as I... want." She sniffled, rushing over to the railing as she wretched. 

"Seriously, I'm sending you back. Come on." Taehyung rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm around her waist and yanking her away from the railings. 

"Let go! Jesus, I don't need your help." Hae Young screamed, ripping his arm off her waist as she trudged away in her slick black heels.

But Taehyung couldn't lie, she looked incredibly seductive like this. But he was snapped out of his thoughts when his eyes caught her ankle giving up on her. He rushed over just in time to catch her waist, her groggy eyes staring into his. It was then that he realised she had been crying that her eyes were puffy even under the thick layer of foundation. 

"Come on." He mumbled, grabbing her arm to put over his shoulder. He bent down and took her heels off, her height literally reducing by almost 5 inches. 

"Where do you women find heels like-" 

"Jimin oppa! Waeyo! Why did you leave me?" She suddenly screamed, crying to herself.

"Seriously." He groaned. He held up the heels for her to take as he got in front of her and pulled her up onto his back. She whined and sobbed into his jacket, the heels of her shoes occasionally hitting his side. He got her into his chauffeur’s car, the driver speeding off in the way of their dorms. She stopped crying and fell asleep, her head slowly reaching his shoulder as her arms found his, hugging his thick arm. Taehyung sighed, his head hitting the back of the seat. It wasn't long before they reached, and Taehyung gently woke Hae Young up. 

"We're here. Come on." He got out of the car and opened the door on her side, gently pulling her out as he thanked the driver.

"Which block is your dorm?" 

"J. J for Jiminnie oppa." She spoke, her arm around his shoulders. He dragged her to the dorm, the school clock hitting 1am, the soft ringing echoing through out the streets of the dorm blocks. 

"You need to go in yourself." Taehyung halted at the entrance of the J block, looking at her whose head hung low. 

"No, don't go in from here... go in from the back." She whispered, pulling Taehyung along. They reached a simple white door at the back, Hae Young taking a Bobby pin out and easily unlocking the door. She dropped in, pulling Taehyung in too. 

"I can't go into a girl's block! I'll be dead if I'm found out!" He loudly whispered as they reached the lift. 

"Shut up will you? You're so annoying ugh." She snapped, flinging her hair onto one shoulder. Taehyung could only roll his eyes, folded his arms and waited for the lift door to open. But once it opened, Hae Young dragged him in too.

"Yah! Are you mad?" Taehyung retorted, watching her bang her head against the wall of the lift. He sighed, putting his hand in between so that she wouldn't have a bruise tomorrow morning. 

The door dinged open on the 8th floor, only one room located very luxuriously in the corner. 

"Wow, you get this entire level to yourself?" Taehyung raised a brow, looking at the bronze door. 

"This is a what happens… when you're in the top 1% of the entire school population... and your parents are a bunch of rich asses. You get a suite all to yourself!" She laughed, fumbling in her clutch for her room card. She slid it in with a click and the door opened to reveal a beautiful golden rose-coloured living room.

"Oh, wow geez. I wonder how much your parents pay for this suite." 

"They don't. It’s on a scholarship. They just gave me this room because they knew my parents were bigshots in New York." Hae Young dumped her purse on the sofa, dropping onto the soft cushion that contrasted with her black dress. 

"You were on a scholarship?" Taehyung raised a brow.

"I'm on a scholarship, got top 1% in this blasted academy, and because my parents are bigshots, they give me a suite." Hae Young threw her heels into the shoe cupboard, a dozen other peeking out. 

"You should really organise your stuff." Taehyung muttered, watching her struggle to pull the zip on the back of her dress. His heart picked up, realizing she was really pretty, and sexy. 

"Taehyung, help me." She whined, holding up her hair for him to reach the zip. He bit on his bottom lip, slowly pulling down the zip. 

She squirmed under his touch as her milky skin showed out under the fabric, something began to crawl into Taehyung's desire. Taehyung yanked it all the way to the bottom, the rim of her black underwear showing. She then stood up and let the dress fall to her feet, leaving her only in her matching black lingerie. 

"Tell me, Taehyung. Why would a boy break up with me for no reason?" Hae Young whispered, crawling towards Taehyung whose eyes were large. The question caught Taehyung off guard, because truthfully speaking, he wouldn't know why anybody would break up with her. She's pretty, she's nice, smart and witty, he couldn't find a flaw. 

"Answer me." She was now sitting on his crotch, her cleavage right under his nose.

"I don't know, Hae Young. I don't. You're pretty, you’re kind, you're smart, only an idiot would dump you." He stared into her brown eyes. Then, they kissed.

Taehyung shut his eyes, feeling his first kiss get stolen by her. What he doesn’t know was that this was her first kiss too, because Jimin never let any skin ship happen other than holding hands. 

Her hands travelled up to his neck while his hands found her bare back. 

"Did I tell you that you were hot since day 1?" Taehyung breathed, caressing her back. 

"No, because you were too busy picking on me." Hae Young moaned, his tongue sliding across her bottom lip. 

"I'm sorry for that." Taehyung sighed, unbuckling her bra despite it being his first time. 

"Don't be." She whispered, her hand running through his thick brown locks. He stood up, her legs wrapped around his waist as their lips never left each other's. He pushed the door open to her room, the dark maroon walls contrasting with outside.

Taehyung laid her down on her bed, her arms covering her breasts. Taehyung leaned down again and kissed her sweetly, his hands finding hers and interlocking with them, pinning them above her head. 

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" Taehyung smirked, watching her squirm under him. His tongue darted out, hungrily sucking on her breasts like a baby. She gasped from the pleasure that shot out throughout her, his warm tongue playing with her nipples so sensually. 

"I'm a virgin too, by the way." Taehyung laughed, embarrassed, before making a mark on her breast.

"You are joking." She retorted, her wrists still in his grasp. 

"I'm not. Really. I haven't had a girlfriend before, much less have sex." He breathed, getting rid of his shirt and pants before crashing onto her again, his fingers hooking on her underwear and dragging it down. 

"Hurry up, Tae. I can't..." Hae Young sighed into the kiss, feeling his fingers play with her folds. She was already so wet, but she wasn't anywhere near ready to lose her virginity.

"Why are you so eager? Female virgins aren't so eager though?" Taehyung smirked, dipping his tongue into her core, allowing her to feel something she never knew existed. 

"Shit Taehyung-" Her voice choked in her throat, her back arching as Taehyung held her wrists down.

She felt him pull away, and look at her dearly before she grabbed him arm and dragged him onto the bed, pushing him against the mattress and kissing his light abs. 

He shut his eyes in pleasure, feeling her breath dribble down to his crotch where his bulge was significant. Hae Young pulled down his boxers and out sprang his member. Delighted and surprised at the same time, she took it in her mouth without hesitation, her tongue playing with his head even inside her mouth. 

"Oh fuck, Hae Young. You don't feel like a virgin." Taehyung groaned, thrusting his hips upwards that his head hit the back of her throat. He wasn't going to last long, and his target wasn't to come in her mouth, it was inside her.

"Is your period coming or just over?" He spoke normally as her mouth popped off of his dick.

"Just over." She whispered, crawling towards his face and kissing him lightly. 

"Good." He muttered, tasting himself from her tongue. He gently pushed her down onto his member, feeling her walls expand around his dick. 

She gasped lightly, burying her face into his collarbone. She whined and whimpered over him, the tip of his member going so deep in, she couldn't form words in her head. So this was what losing your virginity felt like. It was painful, she had to admit, but it felt blissful. 

"Are you okay?" He whispered, pushing her hair off her face. She grimly nodded, asking him to move. He slowly and agonisingly pulled out, only to slam back all the way in, it felt like it was already the end of her vagina. 

He began ramming in and out ruthlessly, the pleasure only replacing the pain as the both of them became a moaning mess. At that point, Taehyung hit that very spot in her, causing a knot to form in her stomach. 

"Shit, Taehyung. There." She moaned, her arms around his neck. As if he new exactly where it was, he hit that same spot at least 6 times in the next 5 seconds and there they were, screaming each other’s names as their liquids mixed. Taehyung slowly rode out his orgasm before pulling out, the white liquid pouring out of her. She laid on the bed, tired and exhausted. He pulled the blanket over her, and tucked her hair behind her ear as she drifted off to sleep. As he reached over to turn off the light, a photo of her and boy stared at him and on it labelled "Hae and Jimin". Taehyung looked at it for a while before gently laying it down, the photo facing downwards. 

- Excerpt from Tomorrow, Chapter 1

[lailaliquorice]

I have been a fool for lesser things

PARRLYN ANGST COME GET YOUR PARRLYN ANGST

and it’s angst angst. But hey this was fun to write and it has a happy ending. there will be a follow-up oneshot to this to give everyone what they’ve been waiting for which I’ll probably write up a bit later and post tonight c: it’s not spell checked bc I have to rush out so I’ll correct it later lol

tw for drink spiking and general hospital stuff bc I know that makes some people uncomfortable

It was tradition for the queens to go down to the pub for an evening out; it was their favourite way of celebrating the end of a long week, all squashed around a table and relaxing with drinks in hand in each other’s company. But today found Anne at a different pub than their favourite local tavern, and in an unusual though not unwelcome change there was only one other queen with her.

“Here’s to a spontaneous night out,” Cathy said, chinking her raspberry gin against Anne’s vodka lemonade as they sat down at a free table. It was earlier than they usually went out because neither of them had performed that night, since it had been Anne’s random show off and Cathy had scheduled the day off so she could attend a conference.

As a result, when Cathy got home to find a very bored Anne she’d suggested they wander down to the new bar they’d been meaning to try out for a while, and Anne had been eager to agree. The thought that she was essentially on an unofficial date with Cathy kept circling around her mind but she kept shoving it down. “Here here,” she echoed, taking a generous swig of her drink while Cathy only sipped hers lightly. “So how was the conference?” she asked, remembering how excited Cathy had been before she set off that morning.

“Really interesting thank you. It’s nice to actually be taught something for a change; doing my own research is all well and good but you can learn a lot by being lectured by someone as knowledgeable as the Professor was. I had plenty of questions for her afterwards,” Cathy said, her face lit up by her smile. Anne always thought she practically glowed whenever she started to ramble about something that interested her, and she could have listened to her talk forever. After several minutes of Cathy talking about everything she’d been told, she cleared her throat slightly sheepishly and added “Sorry if that was more than you wanted to know. How was your day?”

Anne laughed, shaking her head. “I asked ‘cause I wanted to know, you don’t need to be sorry,” she said, grinning when Cathy’s shy smile returned. “And I just got stuff done really, dealt with the laundry that Jane was ready to murder me over and tidied my room. Was a bit lonely though so this is really nice, thanks for the suggestion.”

Cathy shrugged, still smiling at Anne as she said “You’re very welcome, it’s a lovely end to a lovely day.”

When their drinks were both running low, Anne downed the remainder of hers before insisting on getting refills for them both. Cathy watched her go with a fond smile, too preoccupied by chastising herself for her stupidly fast heartbeat whenever Anne smiled at her to notice that she wasn’t alone until she heard a male voice say “Hello sweetheart.”

Cathy almost jumped, looking around to see the man who had slid into Anne’s seat. “Oh, hello,” she said, not trying particularly hard to feign interest.

“Haven’t seen you around before. What brings a pretty girl out here alone tonight?”

“No, I usually go somewhere else,” Cathy replied, not bothering to answer his second question. She avoided his gaze as she drank the rest of her drink, hoping he’d be put off by her disinterest and leave her alone.

To her frustration though, he only smiled a little wider. “Well, I’d say you have a good choice in bars then. Can I get you another drink?”

Cathy shook her head, sneaking a quick glance towards the bar to try and see if Anne was on her way back yet. “No thank you, my friend is already getting me another,” she said, voice a little firmer as she refused his offer.

His smug look faltered for a moment, then fell altogether at the sound of someone coughing pointedly just before Cathy felt someone’s arms over her shoulders. “Hey hun, who’s come to join us?” Anne asked, resting her head close to Cathy’s as she stared down the stranger.

“Oh, you didn’t say it was that sort of friend, I’ll be out of your way,” the man said hurriedly, not looking at Cathy as he practically stumbled in his haste to get out of Anne’s chair. Cathy watched silently as he disappeared into the crowd, too distracted by the feeling of Anne’s breath against her neck to say anything.

Anne gave a low chuckle before moving round the table to sit back down,  and Cathy immediately missed the warmth of Anne pressed up against her back. “Sorry if that made you uncomfortable, thought it’d made him go away faster. You alright?” Anne asked. There was a blush across her cheeks as she met Cathy’s gaze for a split second before dropping her eyes again.

“I’m fine, and of course not. Thank you for saving me,” Cathy said, prompting Anne to look back up at her with a happy grin.

After a moment of them both looking into each other’s eyes, Anne clicked her fingers in apparently realisation as she jumped back out of her chair. “Forgot the drinks! Back in a mo!” she yelled as she sprinted back towards the bar, leaving Cathy to watch her go with a giddy smile that she didn’t bother trying to conceal.

But by the time Anne returned after actually ordering their drinks the second time around, Cathy was just staring at the opposite wall with an empty look on her face. “Hey, you ok?” Anne asked, putting their drinks down on the table as she looked at Cathy worriedly.

Cathy shrugged, swallowing heavily before she spoke. “I don’t know. I don’t feel very well all of a sudden.”

“Do you want to go home?” Anne asked, not caring that she’d just brought two new drinks at the sight of her friend looking so unsettlingly grey.

Nodding, Cathy murmured a quiet “Yes please.”

Anne stood first and put one arm around Cathy’s waist to help her to her feet. Slowly they made their way out of the bar, but when Cathy caught her foot on the doorway Anne just about managed to react quickly enough to catch her albeit clumsily. “Woah, I got you. Let’s stop for a sec. You doing ok?” she asked, leading Cathy over to crouch down by the wall.

“I didn’t drink that much,” Cathy said as she sat down heavily, almost overbalancing sideways and needing Anne to correct her again. “It was only one double gin, that shouldn’t… I’m not… uhhh…”

She trailed off with a groan and cradled her head in her hands, prompting an increasingly worried Anne to rub her back gently as she breathed heavily. Seconds later she was vomiting on the pavement, her head pounding and her vision blurring so much that she could barely notice Anne’s hands holding her steady. She was sure she heard Anne say something in a voice rising with panic, but then her shaking limbs gave out and her eyes rolled upwards as she collapsed into Anne’s arms.

~~~

1am found Anne sat in a hospital waiting room with her knees pulled up to her chest.

The wait for the ambulance had been torturous, as all she could do was hold onto Cathy’s lifeless form in her trembling hands and pray for help to get there faster. Then they were both bundled into the back of the ambulance, Cathy on the stretcher bed with an oxygen tube in her nose and heart monitor beeping slowly while Anne just clung onto her hand and tried not to get in the way. Then they arrived at the hospital and Cathy was whisked away behind closed doors, and Anne was left alone.

Footsteps approaching made her look up to see a doctor standing by her. “Are you here for Miss Parr?” he asked.

“Yes,” Anne said immediately, jumping to her feet. “She’s alright, isn’t she? Please tell me she’s ok.” She hated the waver in her voice as she practically begged the doctor, but she was too terrified to care.

“She’s stabilised and will be absolutely fine,” he said, and Anne felt her knees go weak with relief as she sagged back into her chair. “She’ll need to remain here for a day or two for monitoring and will be back to full health before long. But we found something when we tested her blood, and we believe that her drink was spiked.”

Anne felt her blood run cold as the doctor spoke. Her first thought was how lucky Cathy had been that she wasn’t alone; her second was the man who Anne had found sat at their table as Cathy finished her drink. For several moments she was quiet, thoughts whirling faster than she could deal with them, before she looked up and asked “Can I see her?”

The doctor nodded. “She’s asleep for now but will most likely start to come around within the next few hours. But you’re welcome to stay with her.” He led her down a corridor into the ward, then pushed open a door labelled ‘C. Parr’ and motioned for her to go in.

Anne’s eyes instantly landed on Cathy lying motionless in the hospital bed, the only signs of life being the steady trace of the heart monitor and the shallow rise and fall of her chest. She dimly heard the door being closed behind her, the sound jolting her back to life from where she’d frozen for a moment. The sight of Cathy, brave beautiful Cathy, looking so small in a hospital gown beneath ghost-white sheets was enough to make her stomach turn.

Finally finding her feet again, she crossed the room and dragged a chair over to sit by Cathy’s bedside. As she went to take her hand again she paused when she saw the tube in the back of her hand connected to a bag of fluids, but after a second’s painful hesitation where the lack of physical contact became too much she resolved to just hold her hand carefully. She needed the feeling of Cathy’s skin on hers, the reminder that she was ok and that Anne hadn’t lost her.

Her phone flashing in the dimly lit room reminded her that she hadn’t checked her notifications since leaving the bar, and she opened her phone to see several unread messages from the rest of the queens. She didn’t bother reading them before she clicked on one contact and pressed the call button, holding her phone to her ear in a shaking hand.

“Finally! Why in God’s name haven’t you been answering anyone? I had to talk Jane down from going on a manhunt!”

Anne’s lip trembled at the frustration in Aragon’s tone, unable to say anything until the line had fallen quiet. “Catherine,” she said, her voice thin with barely contained panic.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Aragon asked, suddenly sounding concerned.

“We’re in hospital.” The second those words were out in the open the dam broke, and she dropped Cathy’s hand to clamp her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her sobs.

It was a long while before Aragon could make herself heard over Anne’s shuddering breaths. “Just breathe Anne, take a deep breath and calm down for a second,” Aragon said soothingly, and Anne hummed in affirmation as she gasped air into her lungs. After a few seconds Aragon continued “There you go, that’s better. Now slowly tell me what happened.”

Hearing Aragon’s firm voice down the phone felt like Anne had been thrown a life ring while she was drowning. “We- we were at a bar and someone spiked her drink,” she explained haltingly between breaths, pausing to wipe away the tears that streamed down her face. “She blacked out and I called an ambulance and now we’re at hospital. She’s sleeping but they said- they said she’ll be ok in a few days.”

“That’s a relief,” Aragon sighed, and Anne hummed again. They were both quiet for a minute before Aragon added “Do you want me to come down there with you?”

Anne considered it for a moment, before she shook her head. “No, it’s ok. They might not let anyone else in this late anyway,” she said, knowing it had to be well into the small hours. Her voice shook again as she asked “Can you come tomorrow though?”

“Of course I will dear,” Aragon said, and Anne smiled at both her answer and the term of endearment. “Try and get some sleep, and I’ll be there in the morning. Everyone has gone to bed but I’ll let them know what happened, you just worry about looking after yourself and Cathy. Ok?”

“Ok,” she echoed quietly.

Once the call was over, Anne looked back over at Cathy’s peaceful expression as she slept on. Figuring she ought to take Aragon’s advice if she didn’t want to hear about it in the morning, she pulled her chair closer to the bed and kicked her shoes off before tucking her legs underneath her so that she was curled up semi-comfortably in the armchair. Resting her head on her elbow and holding Cathy’s hand again, she continued to watch her soft breathing for a while until her eyelids eventually fluttered closed and she fell into an uneasy sleep.

~~~

The first thing that Cathy became aware of was the faint beeping in the background. Then the dully throbbing pain in her head that made her groan softly. She went to lift her hand to her head but paused when someone’s fingers tightened around hers, prompting her to open her eyes. To her confusion it wasn’t her own four walls she saw when she looked around slowly, her vision blurring slightly as she turned her head, but her rising panic was quelled a little when she saw who was clinging onto her hand.

Anne was somehow curled up in an armchair a couple of feet away, gangly legs folded awkwardly underneath her in a position that hardly looked comfortable. She was asleep with her hair falling in front of her face, meaning that her holding onto Cathy’s hand was entirely subconscious.

Cathy smiled for a moment before she saw the tubes that had been taped into the back of her hand and crook of her elbow. That was when she remembered the beeping that had woken her up, and she glanced upwards to see a heart monitor as well as the two fluid bags that her IV drips were connected to. There was a tube in her nose too, lying uncomfortably on her skin and rubbing against her ears. She was in hospital. And while she could recognise how terrible she was feeling, she had no idea why.

Frantically trying to think back to the previous evening, her dread worsened as she realised the amount of gaps there were in her memory. She could remember going out with Anne, how Anne had linked their arms together as they walked down the road, but that was the last of it. Anything could have happened since then and Cathy was entirely clueless.

Her breathing quickened in her panic, a stray tear escaping down her cheek as her mind whirled uncontrollably with thoughts of what could have happened. Was there something really wrong with her? Was Anne ok? Did the others know what had happened?

The heart monitor’s steady beeping escalated as she panicked, flashing a warning just as Anne’s head flew up from her arm. She looked around disorientated for a moment before her eyes landed on Cathy and she uncurled her legs to sit on the edge of the bed. “Shh you’re ok Cathy, it’s alright you’re fine,” Anne said, grabbing Cathy’s hands in a role reversal of how they’d been when Anne had the first panic attack in front of her. “We’re in hospital but it’s ok, there’s nothing wrong and you’re gonna be fine in a bit. I’ve got you.”

Cathy nodded, then groaned again as the pain in her head increased sharply and her stomach turned. “What- what happened?” she asked, her voice cracking with how painfully dry her throat was. “I can’t remember anything, I know we went out last night but I don’t remember anything else.”

“We tried out the new bar last night and someone spiked your drink,” Anne said gently, giving a reassuring smile as Cathy’s expression dropped in shock. “There was a guy who approached you while I was at the bar, it must’ve been him. You were really sick and I called an ambulance and… and yeah, that’s how we’re here,” she finished lamely.

As Anne explained, Cathy noticed for the first time how pale her face was and the dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. Clearly the night had taken a toll on her as well.

“Do the others know?” she asked.

Anne nodded. “Yeah, I called Aragon last night and she said she’d come visit a bit later.” She paused to glance at the clock before correcting herself with “Well, maybe a lot later ‘cause it’s only 6 in the morning. You were out for about 9 hours.”

“Longest I’ve slept in a long time,” Cathy joked hoarsely, relieved when Anne cracked a tiny smile.

“Yeah, guess so,” she said, before her expression turned serious again. “They said you’d feel a bit rough for a while and you can probably go home tomorrow. And then I guess you can decide if you want to report him or not.”

Cathy thought for a moment, wishing she could remember what the man looked like or even what he’d done. “Probably,” she said after a while. “If I can remember enough to give a police report. I just wish I’d been more careful.”

“Hey, don’t go thinking this is your fault. That guy was the piece of shit, not you,” Anne said firmly, frowning for a moment before her expression softened. “And I’ll help you if you still can’t remember. I was there too y’know, you weren’t alone in this.”

She hummed in agreement, giving Anne’s hands a tender squeeze. “I know. And it’s thanks to you that I came out of this ok, so thank you Anne. It could have been a lot worse if I didn’t have you,” she said, looking earnestly at her friend.

Anne nodded in response, before her expression crumpled and she looked away at the ground. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Cathy asked, suddenly concerned.

“Sorry, I dunno why I’m upset when you’re the one who’s hurt,” Anne muttered, taking one hand back to wipe her eyes roughly. “I just… I was so scared when you blacked out that I was gonna lose you, and I dunno what I’d do without you because you’re amazing and I love you and it was really really scary.”

The confession didn’t go unnoticed by Cathy even in her groggy state, and she might have grinned with shock and joy if it wasn’t for the fact that her friend-turned-something was sobbing uncontrollably as all her fears from the past 12 hours came flooding out. “Come here love,” she said softly, opening her arms as Anne crawled up to lie next to Cathy while being painstakingly careful of the wires and tubes she was hooked up to. Cathy held her close as she buried her head in her chest, running fingers through her hair and whispering comforts into her ear. “I’m here, ok? I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you and we’re ok.”

“Mhm,” Anne murmured, her voice muffled by Cathy’s hospital gown.

Cathy continued to run her fingers through Anne’s hair and rub soothing circles into her back, noticing as all the tension left her shoulders and she relaxed heavily into Cathy’s hold. “How much sleep did you get last night?” she asked quietly.

Anne shrugged. “I dunno. I think I fell asleep at like 2.”

“Do you want to sleep here?”

“Yes please. You’re comfy.”

Cathy smiled at Anne’s response. She could feel her own exhaustion taking over again, and the comforting weight of Anne lying against her was enough to pull her towards unconsciousness again. There was so much she wanted to say, so much they needed to talk about, but they had time for that. For the moment though, Cathy kissed Anne’s forehead before resting her head atop her hair and giving into sleep.

~~~

When Aragon creaked open the door a few hours later, she was hardly surprised by the sight that awaited her. Cathy was lying asleep in the hospital bed, monitors beeping a peaceful rhythm which quelled the fears that had kept Aragon awake most of the night. But tangled up in her embrace was none other than Anne Boleyn. While she might have been unhappy a few months ago when her regard towards Anne was still poor, their now close relationship meant that she only smiled fondly at the pair of them.

She kept her footsteps silent as she took a picture of them both, then made herself comfortable in a chair across the room while she texted it to Jane to reassure her that all was fine. She’d come down to the hospital on her own after filling in Jane on what had happened, and she knew that the other three queens would hurry down to join them as soon as Kat and Anna had woken up. That gave Cathy and Anne a few more hours of peace and quiet in each other’s arms.

Her goddaughter and her almost-foster-daughter. Aragon couldn’t help but feel like a proud parent.

[jarienn972]

Curse of Undoings - Part 13

I must apologize that this chapter took a little longer to complete than planned as we've been busy packing and moving stuff to our new home. Moving isn’t fun at all and I've been so exhausted every night that I couldn't look at a Word doc with out my eyes crossing! 

But I finally managed to get it all completed and after some technical difficulties earlier tonight, I can finally post it!  This conclusion does contain some flashbacks to earlier events as Emma has to confront her guilt so I have to add a little content warning (although most of the whump is of the angst variety).  How will Killian react when he wakes? Will Fiona's plan to destroy true love come to pass or will Emma decide to run?  

Tagging my whump-loving friends @killian-whump, @castielamigos and @hookaroo for this last installment. Hope everyone enjoyed the ride as much as I enjoyed writing this!  (I’ve found writing whump to be very good therapy for stress lately.)

Read from the beginning on AO3 or FF.net or here on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve

A little over an hour later, before heading back to his office for his power nap, Dr. Whale checked in as his patient was moved into one of Storybrooke Hospital's two Intensive Care rooms. Killian Jones was about as stable as they had expected post-op so the doctor gave his blessing for family to visit. At this late hour, he instructed his staff that Emma was welcome to stay the night if she wished but that all other guests could remain only until 10pm.

No one on the hospital staff could imagine the anguish that Emma was experiencing over what seemed like a simple act - showing support for her recuperating husband. Yesterday, she and Killian had exchanged wedding vows and now, merely a single day later, she was a heartbeat away from becoming a widow. But that thought scarcely scratched the surface of her emotion. None of these people knew what Emma had done while cursed. Most could barely recall anything that had happened during their cursed day, but Emma remembered too much – and her guilt ran deep. She was fully responsible for where Killian now lay. She may not have pulled the trigger, but she'd given herself fully to the false memories Fiona had forced upon her.

Why hadn't she been strong enough to resist? Why didn't she believe her own son? Henry had been trying to tell her the truth, but then so had Killian, and she'd dismissed them both. She wasn't the one who'd fired the bullet into Killian's chest, but she may as well have. What she'd done was unforgivable.

As the elevator doors parted on the third floor, Emma took a tentative step into the corridor, grateful that Henry was at her side. She couldn't have done this alone. He'll, she wasn't even sure she was capable of facing her husband even with her son here providing support. Her knees were already shaking and the flock of butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach had her ready to vomit - although she took a minute bit of comfort in the fact that Killian couldn't tell her how much he hated her while he was comatose.

Her heart leapt into her throat as they made their way down the hall, getting closer to Killian's room. Emma was certain that Henry could hear the wild thumping from inside her chest, but he'd never let her know if he did. Despite all of the horrible things she'd said to him, Henry had already forgiven her, giving her a glimmer of hope that Killian might forgive her too. Of course, she'd only assaulted her son with words. She'd done far worse things to her husband.

"Emma," the nurse behind the desk greeted her with a warm smile. "Your husband is in the room on the left. We've tried to make him as comfortable as possible until he regains consciousness, but if you see anything you aren't happy with, please let us know and we'll see if we can make things better. I just want to let you know that he's going to look a little pale and possibly a little swollen. They're just typical side effects that will gradually return to normal as he recuperates. There's a chair in the room that folds out into a little bed if you wish to stay here tonight, although we can't promise that it won't be a little noisy. Medical staff will be in and out all night checking on his recovery."

"It's fine," Emma replied, trying hard to force a gracious smile onto her own lips. "I… I don't know yet…"

"it's alright. We don't expect you to rush into any decisions," the nurse assured her. "He's stable, but he won't be conscious for a while yet. It will do him good to have family support so why don't you go ahead in to see him?"

"Thanks," Henry responded for his mother when Emma hesitated, steering her towards the floor to ceiling glass partition that defined the room that his stepfather occupied. The sliding door was open and even from this distance, the unnatural sounds emitted by the machines inside attacked her senses.

Emma wasn't certain what she really expected but there was nothing to hide behind. Everything was transparent – no real door and no opaque walls – only a barrier of crystal clear glass that wouldn't prevent her from seeing the battered, broken shell of her husband. Her knees didn't want to hold her upright anymore and every nerve ending in her body was itching with the instinct to flee.

She could barely bring herself to look at Killian as he lay motionless on the narrow bed. He looked so small and frail, nearly engulfed by the plethora of monitors and intimidating machines surrounding him. His closed eyes appeared sunken with deep, darkened circles defining them (as if he'd smudged his kohl far too thick), the blackness standing out starkly against the pallid, almost grayish tone of his skin. The tube that extended down into his windpipe protruded from between his lips and from six feet away, she could hear the distinctive, rhythmic hiss of the ventilator that was essentially breathing for him while his perforated lung healed.

She knew he couldn't see her, couldn't see the tears welling in her eyes as she wallowed deeper into her own guilt. Flashes of her actions began to flood her in increasingly disturbing waves. The baton repeatedly lashing at his back, flaying open skin with every blow, bruising muscle and cracking bone below. And that had merely been the prelude as she'd taken the second torture session to even more depraved depths - leaving him chained, gagged and humiliated for over an hour while she'd prepared.

She'd gone on to shackle him to a metal table and electrocute him, all before committing the ultimate insult by burying his own hook into the sinew of his left shoulder. She'd turned his deepest insecurities against him as she'd forced that cold, steel prosthetic down to the bone – relishing his screams into the gag while she'd grinned and laughed at him. How on earth could she face him? Whatever would she be able to say to defend herself? Would his unconscious ears even hear her beg for forgiveness and say how sorry she truly was?

It was too overwhelming and she wasn't prepared. "I can't do this… I can't do this right now…" she sobbed, yanking herself away from her son's supportive arms. She drew her sleeve across her face in a feeble attempt to erase the tear tracks as she backed away, darting for the relative safety of the elevator.

36 hours later

After a little coaxing and a very serious heart to heart conversation with her family, Emma finally reclaimed the strength that had forsaken her earlier. While it hadn't been even the slightest bit easy to sit at her husband's bedside, she knew it was where she belonged. Dr. Whale had warned that the first night could be rough and he'd not exaggerated. Killian's blood pressure seemed to rise or fall randomly as his overburdened heart struggled to keep pumping and even with the ventilator aiding his breathing, his impaired lungs were barely drawing in enough oxygen, triggering alarms all evening.

But he held on.

By the next evening, he'd made enough improvement that he could breathe on his own and Whale had removed the breathing tube. A less intrusive, narrow cannula tucked beneath his nostrils replaced it, still providing his unconscious body with supplemental oxygen as he recovered from the myriad of wounds. Now, neither Killian's condition nor the inclement weather outside seemed as dire as they'd been just twenty four hours ago.

As the second dawn broke, Emma was awakened by a tendril of hazy sunlight peeking between the window blinds and the gleeful chirping of a little bird perched on the ledge outside. Together, they'd weathered the storm, but first, she had to convince herself that this wasn't a dream. She'd stretched as she planted her feet on the floor, glancing over at the clock hanging on the wall which revealed the time to be nearly 9am. Had she actually slept that soundly? The last thing she remembered was a nurse checking Killian's vitals around 1am. Or maybe it was 2?

She made her way to the window and gently tugged at the cord to open the vertical blinds, blinking at the brilliance and welcome beauty of the blue skies beyond the glass. There wasn't a grey cloud in sight and there was no doubt that the curse was broken. Fiona's dark magic had been vanquished by the simple act of Killian Jones surviving. Physically, she now had the confirmation that he was going to be fine, but so much healing was going to be necessary and with the curse broken and magic returning, she knew she could help him, should he allow it. She certainly could remedy the physical ailments, but she was wise enough to realize that a discussion of magical healing wouldn't be the first subject broached when he woke. Inevitably, she'd have to face him, and after two nights thinking of little else, she was ready to prepare for their uncertain future – at least she thought she was ready.

The buzzing and rattling of her phone against the metal nightstand brought her back down to earth and as she retrieved it, she wasn't the least bit surprised to discover that it was her father calling. Waking up to bright, blue skies probably had everyone in town celebrating another curse defeated, but Emma wasn't exactly ready to celebrate anything just yet, so she hoped he wasn't too overly excited. She answered the call with every expectation of hearing queries about Killian's status but what she ended up hearing caught her entirely off guard.

"Good morning, Dad."

"Emma, I'm so glad you answered. Do you think you can make it down to the station right away?" David asked and Emma could hear the urgency and anxiety in his voice.

"Uh, yeah… I suppose so…" she replied, dragging her boots out from beneath the chair.

"Great! I think the curse broke and things got weird."

"Weird? What sort of weird – giant snowman weird or flying monkey weird?"

"I suppose you'll have to see this one for yourself… I wasn't even sure what to do next…"

"Okay, then… I'll be there in a few minutes. Killian hasn't woke up yet so I don't think he'll miss me…"

"Thanks! See you in a few!" David said before disconnecting the call. She had no idea what could be so pressing at the station but something definitely had David flustered. She sat down for a moment to tug on her boots then grabbed her leather jacket that she'd draped over the back of the fold-out chair. She considered flipping it back into chair form, but decided she'd better not take the extra time. Before leaving, she stooped over to plant a tentative, but tender kiss onto Killian's forehead and then scurried out the door. The curse might have been broken but there was still apparently never a dull moment in Storybrooke.

Emma didn't even need to take that first step through the doorway of the Sheriff station to understand exactly why David had called. The wail of an unhappy infant echoed throughout the squad room and she immediately spotted her exasperated father pacing the floor in front of the holding cell cradling a screeching newborn against his shoulder.

"Uh – Dad?" she asked, struggling to wrap her brain around what an infant might be doing here in the station. "Why are you holding a screaming baby?"

"I don't really know… I came in this morning around eight and went into your office with every intention of helping catch up on some paperwork. After checking the answering machine for any reports that might have come in overnight with the storms, I sat here listening as Gideon was in the cell grumbling about breakfast being late. I was ignoring him, but just as the rain finally let up and the skies cleared, I heard this little one squawking from inside the holding cell."

"The baby was inside the cell?"

"Yes, and only Gideon was in there before. I think this is him."

"Baby Gideon?" Emma asked incredulously, realizing that in Storybrooke's timeline, Gideon would have only been a few weeks old. The Dark Realm of the Black Fairy had aged him abnormally and it appeared that breaking Fiona's curse had reverted him back to his true age. "Have you tried calling Belle?"

"You were the first person I called - well, second person. I tried your mother first but she didn't answer so I wasn't sure what else to do."

"Sounds like he's hungry," Emma commented as she decided this would be a good time to test that her magic was restored, conjuring up a bottle full of baby formula. "So nice to have magic back," she smiled as she handed the bottle to David who repositioned the baby into the crook of his elbow. The hungry infant instantly latched on and gulped the milk greedily. "Yep – he was hungry."

"I guess we really should call Belle and maybe Gold," David stated as he stared at the infant in his arms. "Although, since this whole mess with Fiona began after Belle tried to send Gideon away from Rumplestiltskin, maybe calling him isn't such a great idea…"

"I'll leave that up to Belle. You feed that little guy and I'll give her a call. If our hunch is correct and this really is Gideon, hopefully she'll be able to identify him. He was only a few hours old when she handed him over to the Blue Fairy."

One brief phone call to an overjoyed mother and her instant recognition of a very distinct birthmark allowed Emma to reunite Belle with her son. Apparently, this was what the fairies had meant when they'd referenced restoring Gideon's innocence – giving him back a clean slate by reverting him back to his actual age. This time, he'd be raised properly by a loving mother instead of a manipulative, psychotic fairy, but no one really knew if he'd retain any memories of his upbringing under Fiona's control. There was always a chance it could lead to nightmares or some sort of mental disassociation later, but for now, he was a happy baby in his mother's arms and truthfully, Emma was a tiny bit jealous.

What she wouldn't have given to be able to turn back the clock on her own ordeal - to forget every toxic thing she'd said and done while languishing under the control of Fiona's curse. Gideon might not have killed anyone while serving as Fiona's lackey, but he'd hurt a lot of people and somehow, he was still deserving of a restart? She seriously considered taking a dream catcher to strip herself of those hurtful memories, but feared it wouldn't be enough. She'd have to do the same to Killian, to Henry, and to anyone else who knew the truth and where was the fairness in that? No, there wasn't going to be a reset button for her or anyone else who'd been harmed and that fact just stung bitterly.

She'd made her way back to the hospital as soon as she could after the joyful parent-child reunion. As a mother, she was truly happy for Belle – she really was – but she couldn't bear to be surrounded by someone else's joy while she was still so miserable. There was a definite degree of unfairness to it, but Emma supposed that as long as the curse was broken and Killian's life was spared, it wasn't her place to question the fates.

When she arrived, she was almost relieved to find her husband still sleeping soundly, grateful to delay the inevitable confrontation a little while longer. She peeled off her jacket and tossed it casually across the back of the chair before slumping down into the seat that someone from the staff had folded back into a chair. After two nights here, she'd grown accustomed to the constant blips and beeps of the machines, comforted by the fact that fewer devices were necessary and that the sounds had grown increasingly consistent. She found herself watching his chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, noting that normal color was returning to his skin as her eyes drifted upward to see the rosy flush across his cheeks.

Perhaps he was a little too warm? She could see that he had two blankets draped over him, one ivory and another that was a faded pale blue. His brow also seemed to be covered with a faint sheen of sweat so she decided to tug the top blanket off of him, tossing it to the foot of the bed. It must have been a relief to him as he seemed to take a deeper breath and she thought she heard him return a little moan of gratitude when her fingertips stroked his stubbled jowl. She ran a fingernail through his thicker whiskers that had grown nearly into a full beard speckled with flecks of ginger and silver, certain he'd be anxious for a shave once he awakened.

Despite her own lingering doubt, she permitted a ghost of a smile to lift the corners of her lips as she rested her hand atop his, gently curling her fingers around his while cautiously trying not to disturb the IV catheter taped to his wrist. She then prepared herself for what would likely be another long day of waiting by tipping her head back and squeezing her eyes shut before her ears perked at the rustle of fabric. Instantly alert, her eyes flew open as she felt a minute twitch against her fingertips.

"Killian?" she called out expectantly, eager to witness his eyelids flutter open or hear his voice for the first time since she'd regained her senses. She tried to squeeze his fingers to reassure him that she was there with him, but instead of welcoming the gesture, his fingers jerked away from her grasp. "I'm sorry…" she stammered as that single, reflexive motion drove a dagger straight through her already aching heart. "I didn't mean to…"

"Swan?" his gravely, confused voice asked. "Is that you?" The question came with such skepticism that it almost made her want to slink away. She knew he'd already recognized her voice but in her heart, Emma knew why he'd asked that particular question. He wanted to know if it was really her, not the vicious cursed persona waiting to do him further harm.

"Yes, it's me," she replied shyly, her eyes welling both with tears of joy and uncertainty. "It's really me, Killian, and I owe you the biggest apology… What I've done…" She swallowed down the lump forming in the back of her throat and just let it all out. "You have every right to hate me for it and if you don't want me to stay, I understand but I wasn't going to leave until I had the chance to tell you how sorry I am."

Her apology came in rapid fire rambling that had Killian's still-fuzzy brain overloading. He forced his heavy eyelids open, blinking a few times as his sight adjusted to the brightness of the room. He quickly discovered that his weary muscles didn't want to respond but he somehow managed to grasp her wrist, causing her to pause for a breath. "Love, please…," he pleaded with her as he agonizingly shifted his weight enough to enable him to look her in the eye. "That wasn't you."

"You didn't even want me to touch you a moment ago," she sobbed. "I get it – you're still afraid I might hurt you again…"

"What? What do you mean?"

"You pulled your hand away from me when you woke and heard my voice."

"Emma, I was startled. I guess I flinched – probably would have at anyone's touch out of sheer self-preservation instinct…" He had to take a brief pause there as his body reminded him why he was lying in a hospital bed. "I awoke in a strange place with my last waking memory being nothing but pain…" He winced when trying to find a position where he didn't ache, unsure how much longer he could withstand the physical toll that this conversation was taking on him. Everything hurt – the searing ache in his chest, the burning sensation from the countless welts on his back and the dry, scratchy flames licking at his throat, making it agonizing just to swallow, let alone talk. He was beginning to feel his body coaxing him to return to the deep slumber, but he wasn't ready just yet. "Is there something here I could drink?" he finally asked when he couldn't bear the sensation that he'd swallowed a sandbar any longer.

"Um, yeah, I think so…," she answered, almost thankful that he'd changed the subject. She glanced over to the rolling side table where the nurse had earlier left a cup filled with ice chips as they'd anticipated Killian might experience a dry, sore throat when he came around. "Victor wasn't sure how well you'd be able to swallow so he didn't want you drinking too much but he did say you could have some ice. I know it's not much, but…"

"It's fine, Love," he assured her as she scooped up a flat, round chunk of ice onto the plastic spoon the nurse had left for them and raised it to his mouth. She let the ice slide off onto his tongue without saying a word and while he would have preferred to chug a fifth of rum, he thanked her for helping this little bit.

"Try not to talk so much for a while," she advised. "Maybe use some shorter sentences? Victor said your throat might be irritated for a few days from the breathing tube. Are you in a lot of pain right now?"

"Delightful," he grumbled in response to her comment about the breathing tube, whatever that was, but he wasn't quite certain how to reply to her query. He wanted to tell her that of course, he was in a lot of pain, but even in his compromised state, he could tell how much guilt was eating away at her, so he lied for her sake. "I'm sore, but I'll survive." Now it was his turn to ask a question. "What about Fiona?"

"She's gone – sent back to her miserable, lonely realm that she'll never be able to leave again. She won't be back."

"Your family?"

She'd forgotten that he'd been unconscious and bleeding out in the center of Main Street when he'd broken that portion of the Black Fairy's curse by committing an act of True Love as he'd shielded Henry from Gideon's bullet. She didn't think that this was the best time to delve into those darker details so she left out a bit of the tale. "They were all freed from Fiona's snow globe prison when the curse broke. They're all safe and sound and looking forward to seeing you recover. We didn't quite get to finish our wedding reception, or get to our honeymoon for that matter – provided you still want that…"

The insecurity in her voice made him ache even more than all of his wounds. "We'll get there, Love," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere…" He was gradually losing his tenuous grip on consciousness as his body's craving for sleep intensified.

"Why don't you get some rest and we'll talk more when you're feeling stronger?" she urged as his head sunk back against the pillows once again. Emma doubted he'd even heard the last few words as his eyes fell closed. He'd learn soon enough what an important role he'd played, how his sacrifice had freed their family and how his survival (and a tiny pinch of magic) had saved them all. For now, she knew it was best to let him sleep and revel in how much this man loved her – so much that he'd apparently forgiven all the atrocities she'd committed against him. There hadn't been a hint of animosity in anything he'd said and despite her initial fear of rejection, he'd not sent her away. This man who'd once doubted that he could be a hero had prevented all of their undoings and as far as she was concerned, had earned himself a new chapter in the stories Fiona has sought to destroy.

Yep, she thought, Killian Jones – Storybrooke's newest Savior.

[timetravelingheart]

My Side of the Fence Part Seventeen: A.M. Imagine

For those concerned about a heartbreaking moment, it does not appear in this chapter (this one actually turned out quite fluffy!) but it is on its way. This chapter kind of sets up that moment. That’s as spoilery as I’ll get since this is all still a work in progress and ever-changing! Thank you for following along. I love when you send in ideas that fit these characters SO well; it’s like you’re in my head! 

ALSO - to the anon who sent in the Vance Joy “I’m With You” song association, thank you! I thought this would be an appropriate time, for those who are unaware, to mention that this story is semi-based off of “My Side of the Fence” by Dan+Shay whose latest album is on repeat for me. Highly recommend listening to it! :) 

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen

Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen

For the first time in a while, Savannah was uncomfortable in Auston’s presence. She could tell he was deep in thought, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. While she wanted the conversation they needed to have to be over with, she knew that it wouldn’t be wise with him in this current state. 

“So how come you didn’t drink tonight?” Savannah asked, trying to break the tension. 

“When you said you were coming and that you might drink, I wanted you to be able to have fun without worrying about getting home,” he kept his eyes on the road ahead of them, rain now coming down and causing him to be a little more cautious. 

“You didn’t have to do that. We could’ve just taken an uber home.” 

“I know. But it’s not a big deal. I get more nights out than you do anyway. There’s always an opportunity to drink,” he shrugged nonchalantly, still not sparing her a glance. 

“Well, thank you,” she replied awkwardly. Auston finally turned to look at her, suddenly seemingly aware of the effect his mood was having on her. He smiled tightly, reaching over to squeeze her thigh in acknowledgement. 

“I’m sorry about Melanie,” Auston apologized, wanting to clear the air before they reached her apartment. He had assumed he was going up with her, but after the night’s events, he wasn’t sure. 

“Oh, don’t be. She was really nice,” Savannah replied. 

“Yeah, she is,” he agreed, not knowing what else to do. He wanted to know what was said, and based on how Savannah was acting, he knew she knew something, he just didn’t know what version of the story she got. He wanted her to ask him for his side, much like she did the night they played 21 questions. 

They pulled into the complex parking garage and Auston turned off the car, but neither made any move to get out of the car. Auston waited, tapping his wrist on the steering wheel. Savannah unbuckled her seatbelt and turned in her seat to face him.

"Are you still okay with our arrangement?” Savannah all but whispered, her voice shaking, giving way to her uncertainty. Auston whipped his head around the face her. Fuck. 

"What do you mean?” Auston willed himself not to overreact. 

Savannah sighed. Specificity was probably necessary here, but she hated confrontation. “I mean, are you okay with us just being casual?”

Auston sighed this time, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He should have known. "Sav, what did Melanie say to you?”

“I promise I didn’t pry, she just…word-vomited all over me,” Savannah explained, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “She said that you ended things with her because you realized you wanted to be in a relationship. I’m not asking you explain your past, but I just need to know if what we’re doing is still okay with you.”

"That’s partly true,” Auston admitted, glad to have an opportunity to explain himself. “I told her that I was done with hooking up with random girls and that if I were to be in a relationship, I didn’t see that happening with her and I still don’t.”

"Harsh,” Savannah visibly cringed.

"I know, and I feel badly about that, but I thought it was best to be direct,” he paused, not sure how his next statement would be taken. He watched as she fidgeted with her hands, unbuckled his seatbelt, and reached out to grab them in his. He was relieved when she visibly relaxed at his touch. “I didn’t tell her I was actively seeking a relationship or that I needed to be in one, Sav. You’re not keeping me from anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

"So you are still happy with keeping things casual?”

“Sav, I’m happy with you,” Auston squeezed her hands, bringing them to his lips.

Savannah fought the urge to give in to his sweet gestures. She needed to know the complete truth before she felt comfortable moving forward. “That’s not answering my question. You know how I feel about a relationship right now and the last thing I want to do is lead you on or feel like you are waiting for me. You deserve more than what I could give you in a relationship right now.”

Auston bit his cheek to keep himself from audibly sighing. He adored Savannah, but sometimes she just worried too much. “You need to stop assuming you know what I think I deserve and what I would want in a relationship.”

Surprised by what was easily the harshest tone Auston had ever used with her, Savannah cringed, worried she was making this more difficult than it needed to be. “I’m sorry, you’re right,” she relented. “But I just need to know because if this is more than casual to you, I think it should end for both of our sakes.”

Red flags rose in Auston’s mind. She was willing to end this if she thought he wanted to be in a relationship with her, or in general. He needed to salvage this before it was too late. "I am okay with it being just casual, Sav. It’s not more than that,” he lied.

"You’re sure?” she looked doubtful and hopeful simultaneously and Auston hated himself.

"Sav, we have a good thing going right now, don’t we? I mean, you’re having fun and you’re happy, right?”

"I am,” she answered honestly. And she really was, other than when she spent way too much time overthinking moments with Auston, almost searching for reasons to doubt him. 

Auston reached his hand out to cup her cheek, relishing in Savannah sinking into his touch. “Then please stop stressing and letting outside factors influence this. It is what it is right now and as long as we’re both okay with that, I don’t see why it would need to end. Okay?”

Savannah nodded, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek. She had to trust that Auston wouldn’t lie to her. She got the answer she wanted, so they could continue. She pushed aside the nagging feeling that something was amiss, but she wanted so badly to continue, to stay in his presence. She didn’t even remotely acknowledge what wanting to stay in his presence meant. If he could keep it casual, so could she. “Okay. Let’s go upstairs.”

__

After having a long hot, and productive, shower together, Savannah and Auston were tangled up in her sheets, listening to the rain and continuing their game of 21 questions. It was nearing 1am, but neither felt tired. They lay naked, Savannah leaning on her crossed arms on Auston’s strong chest as he lay propped up against her pillows. 

“You can’t say that!” Savannah exclaimed, raising her head to admonish him. 

“Why not?” he retorted, the gleam evident in his eye. He was relieved that nothing felt different from the moment they left the car and entered her apartment. It was as if the events from the night hadn’t happened and things were back to what was becoming their normal. 

“Because, you can’t possibly believe that. There’s no way I’m friends with someone who believes that. I can’t accept it.”

“Well, you better believe it, baby,” Auston laughed.

“Nope, no way. Hedwig’s death was not more emotional than Dobby’s. It just wasn’t,” Savannah shook her head defiantly. Who was this person she was laying here with who had these terrible Harry Potter takes?

“You asked my opinion! That’s my opinion!”

“Your opinion is wrong,” she plopped her head back down on her arms aggressively, earning a grunt from Auston, who barked out a laugh.

“All I’m saying is that Hedwig was there from the very beginning. She was a loss of his innocence. She symbolized that end,” he reached one hand out to push her sexed-up hair behind her ears. After the rough night they had, he was so content to be in this moment with her. His favourite version of Savannah was the one he got to be with behind closed doors, in their safe spaces. She was light; at peace with their privacy and joyful in his company. He felt like he was simultaneously floating in the clouds and being grounded to something good; something real. He had a feeling this is what love felt like. 

“I agree with that part. I just don’t agree that it was a more emotional moment.”

“Well, we’ll just have to agree to disagree, won’t we?” he teased, tapping her twice on the nose and laughing as she stuck her tongue out to lick his palm. 

“Whatever. It’s your turn.”

Auston hummed thoughtfully. He ran one hand leisurely up and down her side, sending shivers up her spine. “What is one of your favourite childhood memories?”

Savannah didn’t have to think twice before answering. “As you know, my dad is one of the biggest hockey fans out there,” she paused to roll her eyes as Auston mouthed a faux cheer of ‘Go Leafs Go!’. “And when none of my siblings took a serious interest in playing the sport, I was kind of his last hope. I don’t know if I told you, but he used to coach some of the kids’ leagues at our local rink. He coached my brothers in baseball, too actually. Anyway, the problem was, when I strapped on those black hockey skates, I would see the girls at the rink in these clean white ones doing spins and jumps and just looking like angels on ice and suddenly that’s all I wanted. My parents have actual video of me playing away from the puck and just trying to do pirouettes and mimic the moves I saw these other kids do, but in my hockey skates.” Savannah laughed at the memory. 

“I need to see those videos someday,” Auston laughed picturing an even tinier Savannah doing spins in hockey skates. “I didn’t know you were on a hockey team though.”

“For an inconsequential period of time,” Savannah laughed. “It took my mom to convince my dad to let me switch from hockey lessons to figure skating. But she did, and even though he was disappointed, he was there for every single practice of mine and even helped me pick out some of my leos. One day, I skated off the ice after practice just fuming and in tears and when he asked why, I told him that some of the kids I used to play hockey with were teasing me for moving to the ‘weaker’ sport instead saying only ‘babies’ figure skated.”

Auston grimaced. As a hockey playing kid, he was definitely on the side of the teasers once in a while when they had to share the ice with the figure skaters. He now felt like sending personal apologies to all of the kids he mocked from ages 8-12. 

“So my dad, all 6′2, 200 some-odd pound of him, got himself a customized pair of figure skates, made in white no less even though men’s figure skates are usually black, and skated out on to the ice with me at the next practice. And I never heard another comment again. These kids revered my dad. He was Coach. And now he was out there in figure skates, nearly dying and killing his knees trying to spin. It was just...everything,” Savannah smiled, feeling her heart squeeze at the thought of her big teddy bear of a dad. 

"That’s amazing,” Auston laughed. “So are you a daddy’s girl?”

"It depends on the day. I think because I moved away from home at such a young age, my parents have done their best to spend time with me together and individually so I’ve gotten a bit of both,” Savannah reflected on her relationships with her parents. “My mom is all-knowing though. My dad is pretty unobservant for the most part, so most of our more meaningful talks come from me approaching him or outright expressing an emotion. My mom reads between the lines. She reads body language. She listens for the unsaid. I think it comes from being a teacher for students with special needs who can’t always communicate quickly or in what we consider to be the easiest way so she has to really pay attention.”

"She sounds a little like my mom.”

“Oh, after meeting your mom one time I could tell she was the kind of woman who could draw blood from a stone. She had my whole life story in under ten minutes of knowing her!”

Auston’s heart soared at how affectionately Savannah spoke of his mom after meeting her only one time. “Yeah, she has the affect.”

"What about you? Are you closer to one parent?”

"For a long time, it was my dad. He was my best friend. And still is,” Auston ran a hand through his hair, thinking back on the last few years with his parents. “But when I lived in Switzerland, my mom moved in with me for the year and we really bonded. I think we missed a lot of that because of how often I was away for hockey as a kid. She can still make me feel like a kid too sometimes, especially when I’m home visiting. But it’s just how she shows love.”

“You have great parents, Auston.”

“It sounds like we both do,” he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, watching as she tried to hide what appeared to be a rather large yawn. He glanced at the clock on her bedside table, seeing that it was nearly 3am. They had nowhere to be in the morning, and he had no intention of leaving her apartment the next day until she all but kicked him out, of course before what he assumed, and hoped, would be a very late breakfast. “All right you,” he pecked her lips, dragging her up his body. “Time for bed.”

“Mm,” she moaned, leaning in to kiss him deeply and then snuggling herself into his side, head tucked under his chin. She felt warm and safe and happy. This still worked for them, and she was so relieved. She could focus on the Olympics without the added pressure of balancing a relationship, and still have this safe space with Auston. As long as he was happy with what she could give, she was happy to stay right here for as long as possible. “Good night, Auston.”

“Good night, Sav.” 

[trulymadlysydney]

SO I NEVER LIKE “””OFFICIALLY””” had a face claim for Nova but one time my darling Bee @imethiminthemorning and I talked about it being Dove Cameron, and y’all know how much I adore her... so here she is, our beautiful little weirdo, Nova! 

I was tagged by both Bee and my angel Ken @emotionally-imbruised to do this!  I gave this way too much thought and we know our Nova tends to ramble so obvs some of these answers are gonna be long lol

Rules: Choose a couple of favourite photos/gifs of your character! Copy and paste the questions down below! Answer as if you’re the character that’s been tagged! Then tag some characters/authors you would love to see answer next! (BTW, you’re also allowed to tag an author again if they have more than one character you want to answer these questions!)

1. If it’s 1am and you’re still awake and wanting to talk to someone, who do you call and what do you talk about?

I would say Harry, but a) it’s rare that he’s awake past 11pm most nights, and b) he’s a grump if you wake him before like, 7am.   Usually, there’s a good chance that Jessie is still awake at 1am so I just go into her room with a blanket and we word-vomit all our problems to each other.  

2. Are you part of any fandoms? Or at least a big fan of something in particular?

Some random dude I met at a coffee shop one time invited me to one of his band’s gigs and they were pretty cool I guess. ;) All jokes aside, I’m actually a huge Harry Potter nerd. I’ve been trying to get Harry to read the books but he literally has the attention span of a gnat so he’s taken like five months to read the first two chapters.... of the first book.  Also not that anyone asked but my guilty pleasure is Justin Bieber.  (I know, I know.) ((Sorry @ Harry, you can make me mixtapes of indie bands all you want but I’m still gonna listen to Justin.))

3. Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Surprisingly, big spoon. I get hot in the night super easily so little spoon makes me want to explode sometimes.  Like at least as big spoon I have the freedom to move around.  (Also, again, not that anyone asked but Harry prefers being little spoon anyway so. It works out.)

4. If your mum text you right now, how would that make you feel?

She literally texted me this morning to ask if I needed anything mailed from home, and then to ask when I was planning on coming back.  So to answer your question I’d be fine with it.

5. Have you ever been in love? Why/Why not?

This is such a hard question. I genuinely don’t know.  I think I’m gonna say yes and no. Like, I think I’ve been in love to the capacity that I knew how, does that make sense? Like there was a guy from science camp that I sort of dated throughout high school, and I loved him as much as I knew how to back then.  I consider him my first love.  I think love is different for everyone and it grows and changes with us as we get older.  So who’s to say that I wasn’t in love or it wasn’t real love, compared to my relationship now as an adult with Harry (Who I ABSOLUTELY love), even though I was basically a child? (Side note, Harry just read this answer over my shoulder and he’s laughing at me, like “Nova its a yes or no question, just answer it and move on to the next one.” I think I hate him.)

6. Can you be trusted with a secret?

For sure!  I like to think I’m a pretty trustworthy person.

7. Who was your childhood best friend? Are you still friends?

Her name is Stella, and we are actually! In fact she’s planning a trip out here in September.  She want’s me to take her to West Hollywood so she can seduce a famous person.  (Her words, not mine.)

8. What are three songs currently on your everyday playlist?

Seriously?  Only three? This sucks.

1. Don’t Go Breaking My Heart- Elton John and Kiki Dee (Lately Harry and I have gotten into the habit of performing it in the mirror while we get ready for classes.  It’s become routine.)

2. The Chain- Fleetwood Mac 

3. Boyfriend- Justin Bieber (Guilty pleasure. I told you.)

9. What is your secret talent?

Ummm... I can easily recite literally any tongue twister with no issues.  I can also tie a cherry stem with my tongue.  (Also give me like 6 minutes tops and I can solve a rubix cube.)

10. Have you pictured your future? If so, what does it look like?

I have actually.  It involves working at NASA as one of their leading meteorologists, winning awards for my discoveries in my field,  saving the earth (literally), and then coming home to have a glass of wine and binge watch Netflix shows with Harry.  (I don’t know about a husband or kids just yet, but I do know that when I picture my future, he’s in it. So.)

 (This was so much more fun than I thought it was going to be and I literally gave this way too much thought lmao but anyway I AM GOING TO TAG @bribe-the-door (for any of your characters, although I want to request you do y/n from What Friends are For) annnnnnd @imethiminthemorning again for Allie! MWAH xoxo

[shreyamistry]

Andy x Mc for 4/1/11??? Sorry i can't decide which onee

things you said at 1 am

Andy x MC

Andy and MC laid in bed, the lights were off, but the glow of the TV illuminated their faces in the dark. MC watched out of the side of their eye, his lips curling into a proud smile, jerking the controller in his hand. MC knows they’re going to lose the game so they don’t bother fighting it out anymore, but pretend to.

Andy exchanges in some gaming banter with MC before rolling over to face them, MC follows suit, resting their forehead against Andy’s smiling at him. Andy reaches his hand out taking MC’s in his own, bring his hand to his lips pressing a gentle kiss on MC’s knuckles.

Andy watches MC for a while saying nothing, just staring at them with a soft smile on his lips. “It’s 1am, maybe we should go to bed, Andy.”

Andy nods but doesn’t move. He brushes his nose against MC’s before leaning in for a soft kiss, his hand moving to MC’s cheek cupping it in his hand. He pulls away all too quickly for MC’s taste, but MC doesn’t protest. “You know, i was just thinking…with Redfield gone we have our whole lives ahead of us, and I mean actually ahead of us. I thought we were doomed.”

MC looks at Andy with concern, giving his hand a gentle squeeze that now rests on Andy’s thigh. Andy thinks for a moment, “Remember when we were at that hardware store, I always forget the name. I said I was looking forward to that game, and you made that joke about you replacing that game? Well, here we are, playing that game and it’s not the thing I’m most excited about anymore.”

MC nods thoughtfully, as Andy continues. “I thought I knew everything I wanted, I wanted to go to homecoming with you, play basketball, and even play this stupid game, but after almost dying in that cavern it seems so pointless. You know what I mean? Like I’m not dreaming big enough, I should dream for pro-ball get a degree for a job afterward that excites me, maybe help Lily designs games. She’d love that and so would I. And more importantly, I want a future with you.”

“I don’t know if we’re gonna get married, adopt a kid or have our own or whatever, but in my head, I love the idea of it. I love us being together. I love everything about us. I’m not saying let’s go out and get married, but if you wanted to, I’d have no doubt in my mind that this is what I want.”

MC smiles at Andy and places a kiss on his lips. “Most importantly, I really want to break my other leg kicking Noah’s ass.” MC laughs at Andy, leaning into his touch, letting this head fall on his shoulder. “I love you MC.”

things you said when you were drunk

Andy x MC

Andy vomits into the toilet and MC stands over him, rubbing circles on his back, they’ve never seen Andy this drunk before. It’s slightly frightening to see him so plastered. It started out like any college party, they made out, they played beer pong, and were having a good time. Or so MC thought they were.

They didn’t realize how many drinks he was throwing back, how he’d immediately ask for another when he finished his, MC didn’t mind so much because they were having fun. They hadn’t realized that he was trying to get drunk that night.

Andy sits by the toilet of MC’s dorm room, MC massages his shoulders softly while he wipes the saliva from his slightly parted lips. He looks like he might faint, and softly comforts him. 

“MC...are you here....?”  His voice sounds weird, almost not real as he speaks into the oblivion his eyes staring at the ceiling as if trying to remember anything or who he was. “Where am I?” He looks around seeing MC who smiles at him. “You look hot.” MC chuckles, helping him to his feet, gotta get this drunk to bed, they think to themselves nodding as Andy talks to them.

“Yo, don’t tell MC this, but sometimes I wish I was never born..” His voice is distant as he recalls memories in his head, suddenly forgetting he was with MC no longer looking at their face. “You know what I mean? I feel like, sometimes life would have been easier. If my little spermy hadn’t gotten the memo that a nut was being busted?” 

MC cringes at that part please stop talking about your dad busting a nut in your mom Andy, but Andy keeps going, “like I wish I wasn’t here to make everyone’s life harder. I know I try really hard to make my life have a point, but sometimes, there's no point to be had. We’re just floating through space and boom, it’s all gone. And sure you don’t watch a game just for the end, but sometimes I feel like my end should have come.”

“It just feels so cloudy in my head. Like everything I am is too much for me to handle, if I hadn’t have had Tom I wouldn’t be here. And sometimes I wonder, what if Tom was never in my life, or Tom was transphobic, then I wouldn’t be here and sometimes that alternative sounds so good to me?” MC pushes open their bedroom door as Andy pauses in his spot looking over at them, with tears in his eyes. “Do you think it’s pathetic to want to die when you have everything?” MC shakes their head no about to speak when Andy cuts them off again.

“Like I’m a fucking legend on the court at Westchester, but everywhere else? I’m nothing more than a waste of fucking space. I have a lot of regrets, friend. Are we friends? Did we just meet for the first time? Where are we? Can I go to bed now?”

MC lays Andy onto their bed, they pull off his shoes and jeans tossing them on the floor before tucking him under the covers. They kiss him softly on the forehead as he pulls his pillow into his arms curling up. MC sits at the end of the bed and wipes at their eyes, how long have I been crying, how long has Andy felt this way? What do I do?

things you said over the phone

Andy x MC

MC paced around their room, tapping their foot against the floor. Andy calls this time every day, is he okay? MC takes reassuring breathes, it’s gonna be okay, it’s all okay, everything is okay.

MC hasn’t been in their head like this ever since Andy told them he was joining the military. MC almost had a heart attack when they first found out, they had a discussion, one Andy calls an argument, but from a good place argument. MC, of course, would never stop Andy from following what he wants to do, but they were definitely not too keen on the idea.

Finally, the phone rings and MC dives for it, grabbing it off their bed, instantly answering the phone, Andy’s voice is soft and soothing as he talks, he doesn’t give MC time to answer. “MC, I need you to listen to me.”

MC nods to themselves with a breathing noise. “I’m okay, I’m sorry I worried you, I can tell by your breathing I have. I want to tell you, that I got hurt in battle, but you should’ve seen the other dude. I beat him up so good.”

“Okay, I didn’t, but... I don’t want you to worry so I tried to lighten the mood. Sorry. This isn’t the time for jokes.” Andy goes on, “I just remember laying there wondering if I was gonna die, Tom dropped down beside me, holding pressure to the wound and I thought about was your face...”

“If I had died, I just wanted to tell you something, and I told Tom this when you see MC tell them I’m sorry. Tell them I love them. And tell them there’s a ring in my top drawer under my socks. I know when we were kids I said I wanted to marry you eventually, just not now. But I think the time is now. So MC, will you please marry me?”

PROMPTS FOUND HERE IF YOU WANT TO REQUEST YOUR OWN OR IF YOU WANT TO REQUEST ANOTHER!!! PLEASE DO, I LOVE DOING THESE!!!

[alexiela73]

Hi! Could you do an nsfw with blackwatch!mccree and a virgin s/o please (fem pronouns please)? And the s/o is a little nervous at first? Thanks!

Lol I hope this was okay. Sorry they didn’t go all the way. I like doing inappropriate and i can probably go more in depth or go all the way, but i just got off work and the chances are, if i ever do have to do a more in-depth nsfw request then it’ll be longer and way more time consuming. Anyway, though, i hope that this is good enough and that you enjoy it

It was almost 1am at the bar you worked at, and you sighed with relief as when you saw that it wouldn’t be much longer before you finished your job. Cleaning the glasses, you could see that slowly the few customers that were still in the bar were leaving, either off to another bar or drunkenly stumbling outside as to vomit in the nearest taxi.

A soft tune played in the background and after about another five minutes, you started wiping down the tables, glad to see that it was a good night tonight-no semen on the chairs, no spit or alcohol or blood. The place was actually really tidy, but that’s because you worked so hard to keep it clean when you weren’t making a mean drink.

There was a light jingle, the sound of the door opening and you turned with an exasperated sigh. “Sir, I’m afraid we’re about to close-” you were cut off by a warm pair of lips pressed firmly to yours, and for a moment you were going to slap the guy till you heard a deep, familiar chuckle.

“Don’t mind serving one more customer, do you?” Jesse McCree purred, his voice deep and he smirked, one hand on the small of your back and the other sliding down. A flush filled your cheeks and you scowled slightly, giving him a light push.

“I was about to hit you, you dumbass,” you said angrily, though already that was dwindling. It was hard to focus on it when one hand was gripping your ass and squeezing it like some prize.

Jesse leaned back, tilting his face up so that the light caught his face beneath the black cowboy hat. “Do it then, y/n. Your a tough gal, i think it’d be a fair fight,” Jesse purred. With a growl, you pushed away, cheeks red as you went to lock the door and then head for the bar.

God, your boyfriend was insufferable. The two of you had been dating for maybe nine months now? Sometimes you wondered if you boyfriend had a god complex from working at Overwatch. It was funny though, because although he was all hot and confident now, you’d seen him wilt beneath the gaze of his commander (who you liked to refer to as his father) Commander Reyes.

Hearing him following behind you, you ignore him and head behind the counter. Jesse followed you behind the counter and you tried to pretend he wasn’t there as he came up behind you.

Pressing to your back as you started to put the bottle of boozes back in the fridge, you sucked in a air of breath as you felt his hands slide up your hips. Breath hot on your neck, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine as his mouth slowly pressed little kisses up your neck.

“I’m trying to work,” you whispered breathlessly, as his mouth slowly moved around your neck to your ear, nipping your earlobe between his teeth.

Chuckling, Jesse purred, “I’m not stopping you, darlin’. Go ahead.”

Swallowing, again you tried to ignore him to no avail. Although he wasn’t forceful, the man was determined. A calloused hand slid down your hip, fingertips brushing the skin under your spaghetti strap shirt. The touch was electric and sent shocked right to your center, surprising you as you felt yourself beginning to grow wet.

As his hand slid further up, caressing over your skin and he felt a finger brush your breast through your bra. Instantly the nipple hardened slightly, pressing against the thin material of your bra and you let out a little noise when Jesse pinched it.

“Jesse…” You murmured, trying to get your mind back together. The two of you hadn’t had sex yet, as you asked him rather shyly when the dating began if it could wait. It wasn’t like you were stupid. Jesse McCree probably had had lots of lovers in his time, but…you hadn’t. The thought kind of scared you.

“Relax, baby,” Jesse breathed, having turned you slightly and his lips found yours, hot and inviting as his tongue brushed against your lower lip, seeking entrance. When his fingers rolled your nipple, you couldn’t help the small noise and instantly Jesse’s tongue slid in, twining with yours. As always, Jesse tasted masculine, as well as like cigars and liquor.

The other hand slowly moved further down till it rested on the inside of your thigh, and that’s when your brain kicked into gear. Panic set in and immediately you leaned away.

Blinking, Jesse stared at you. To your surprise, he looked a bit breathless too. It was the first moment you realized his hat had fallen off, his brown mop of hair a bit disheveled. God, though, was he a handsome man.

But…you were so afraid.

“I-I-I…” you whispered, unsure of what to say. It was so embarrassing…God, how hard was it to sleep with a man like him? And it wasn’t like his touches hadn’t felt good…god, are you horny now…but that didn’t change how scary it was.

What if you didn’t do good enough? What if he was disappointed? What if it hurt?

Jesse stepped closer and before you could speak, he lifted one of your hands and his fingers twined with yours. “Look at me, y/n,” Jesse said gruffly, cupping your chin.

Hesitantly, your eyes lifted to his. Was he going to reject you? Honestly, you wondered if Jesse was really going to tolerate you like this…

“I am not going to force you,” Jesse said quietly, catching you by surprise. “You know I’m not that kind of man. And I’ll admit…I’m one horny bastard. Its impossible to look at you and not get a tent in my pants, darlin’.”

Face flushing, you realized that was what had been poking your lower back when he’d been pressed up behind you. The thought had you flustered and unable to speak.

“I want you to know though that if and when we do it, that no matter what its like, I’ll always want you,” Jesse says seriously, and you can see it in his eyes that he means every word. “I think it’ll be great just because you trusted yourself with me.”

“But…it…i…I’m not like you…I’ve never…done it before. I…i don’t want it to hurt…” You whispered, embarrassed by your own fears.

A smile tugged at his slips as he tucked your curls behind your ear. “Darlin’, I can’t guarantee it won’t hurt. But i can promise you that I’ll be as gentle as you want, and we can try to make it hurt as little as possible,” Jesse murmured, leaning his head down against yours. It was cute how much taller he was, how he was willing to lean down to your shorter frame…

His words though had you thinking though. Your brain was fraught with worry and excitement and doubt and longing and lust. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to…But were you ready? Jesse said he was willing to go as slow as you wanted…

“O-Okay…” You whispered shyly, looking away. Jesse watched you for a moment, seeming to study you…before he lifted you onto the counter.

With a squeak, you felt yourself gasp as his hands rested on your knees. “We’re not going to go all the way,” Jesse said after a moment. “Not here, anyway. But if your okay with it… I would like to pleasure you. If it makes you uncomfortable, then i will stop.”

Honestly, this wasn’t what you had in mind and the thought of him staring at your sex, open for him to view, was terrifying. But you wanted to face your fears and you wanted to show him that you trusted him. So you nodded, covering your bright red face.

Pulling your legs apart slowly, his hands tenderly caressed your legs, your knees, your inner and outer thighs..He used that to slowly but surely push up your skirt, moving slowly as not to startle you. For a tough bad boy, you thought with nervous excitement, he was a gentle giant…

Slowly Jesse’s fingers moved higher, till you felt them skim the top of your lacy panties. To your embarrassment, they weren’t matching to your bra and as a girl, it bothered you slightly because at one point you HAD bought matching lingerie simply for if you two every…boinked.

When you felt the panties start to shift down, your fingers tightened slightly on your bangs and you let out a long, shuddering breath..and the barest squeak as you felt a rough finger slowly brush across the lips of your vagina. It was the most intimate and private touch you’d ever received and honestly, you wanted to jump and run.

But you held still and after a moment, it was worth it as his fingers brushed across your clit. A soft whimper left your lips, not with your permission, as an electric shock filled you and you realized after a moment that your hands had moved to hold onto his arms gently as your eyes opened.

When you saw his face, it stunned you. That open look of adoration as his eyes met yours, you realized it meant a lot to him that you were opening up to him like this. “Do you trust me?” Jesse whispered, a smile tugging at his lips.

After a brief moment, you nodded and let out a cry as he leaned forward only to let his mouth do much more wicked things. It left you short of breath, and honestly, when he soon brought you to climax with only his tongue, you found you had no complaints.

One way or another, Jesse was the best man you ever knew and his patience and understanding were part of the reason he was the love of your life. That and the amazing techniques his tongue was capable of.