#the newest season has got me in a choke hold

[leviiackrman]

Tag list (ask to be added or removed): @carrionsflower @statichvm @risingsh0t @simonxriley @tommyarashikage @kanos @bbrocklesnar @confidentandgood @unholymilf @florbelles @thedeadthree @shellibisshe @roofgeese @aezyrraeshh @faerune @tekehu @jackiesarch @minaharkers @sergeiravenov @carlosoliveiraa @rosenfey @nokstella @queennymeria @heroofpenamstan @alexxmason @tethrras @jamessunderlandgf @a-treides @solasan @bigbywlf @delzinrowe

UMETAROU NOGUCHI (demon slayer)

Happy Birthday Umetarou! [July 9th]

[raspberrylover28]

"Alexa, can turtles eat candy?"

EDIT: Fixed the past and present tense switching through the fic

My gift for @fxliciq-a for the ROTTMNT Trick or Treat Exchange organized by @rottmnt-secret-gifting  !

Made it extra light and fluffy with lots of banter between the brothers, trying to give most of the prompts a moment to shine and had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you enjoy! (≧∇≦)ﾉ

 [Takes place after season 2 but before the movie]

___________________________________________________

-...I'm just saying that you had an unfair advantage! Why did you get to be the one who went with him?

- I shall remind you once again, dear brother, that the teams were completely randomized and I had no say in who went with who.

- Yeah, randomized by you with your tech! You probably just rigged to whole thing to get all my jelly worms and rub it in my face.

- First of all, gross. Getting them anywhere near your face would make them inedible on the spot. Plus, I don't like them anyway. Second of all, I am wounded you think I would sink so low to win a silly game. Third of all, everyone here is aware that I have managed to get the biggest amount of candy from our trick and treating journey, so please stop whining and hand over the candy to their rightful owner - Donnie put his purple, bat themed candy bag right in front of Leo's face, smiling like the menace that he is

- Oh, come on! - Leo shoved it back into Donnie's face instead and turned to Raph - This has to count as cheating, right? You gave him like half of your candy!

Raph rubbed the back of his head and gave him an apologetic smile - Sorry, man. Ya know i can't eat the ones with peanuts, so I gave them to Don and they sorta started piling up.

Leo gave him an unimpressed stare, crossed his arms and spat out: - I'm not giving any of my loot to a dirty cheater.

- I am not-

- Ugh, just give him the damn candy already! - April yelled with annoyance, getting everyone's attention, letting go of Sunita's hand and  gesturing agressively towards the twins - we've been standing here for 15 minutes!

And they actually were. Standing there in their colorful costumes, arguing with each other on the middle of the sidewalk. Great.

At least the worst they got were a few stares since they were in a more chill part of New York. As chill as New York can be, anyway.

Leo looked around, seeing all the mildly (or a bit more than mildly) annoyed faces staring into his skull and groaned as dramatically as he could, running his fingers through the rockstar wig of his costume for extra effect and reluctantly took out a bunch of lolipops and two small packs of purple and red skittles, then snatched Donnie's hat from his head, threw the candy inside and put it back on with just as much force.

- Here. Don't choke on it - he said, his voice only one third playful, turning away and taking out his phone, not seeing Raph and Donnie shooting each other smug looks.

Donnie took off the hat again and threw the candy into his already overstuffed candy bag, securing it so nothing fell out and doing a quick victory fist bump with Raph.

- Great! Now that's settled, me and my girlfriends are going to the cafe nearby to try out their newest spooky menu. And if any of you boys start making trouble, you will receive a baseball bat to the face. Are we clear? - April smirked playfully, but with a dangerous glint in her eye, and the turtles all saluted with a "Yes, ma'am!".

- YES! We finally shall find out the TERROR of the special halloween recipes!

- Yeah, I really wanted to try the pumpkin latte, it sounded amazing. Plus, I heard they even gave free candy corn at the counter!

Cassandra and Sunita chatted, with April joining in and holding their hands as they started going towards the cafe in their matching monster high costumes.

- Alright! - Mikey started - So what do we-

- Okay, whatever you're going to do, do it by yourselves ‘cause I'm leaving - Leo interrupted, barely looking up from his phone, where he was furiously typing in.

- What, bunny boy is done collecting candy in the Hidden City? - Donnie raised an eyebrow.

- Yeah, we're meeting near Hueso's. We're going to try out candy with his friends, since some turtle I will not name decided getting candy from the Hidden City would be "too dangerous".

- Ey, knowin' Raph's luck AND the Hidden City, it would probably end up like the pizza puffs incident. Or worse.

- What, you think they're going to throw drugs into a teenager's candy bag?

- ...maybe.

- Raph, chill! Usagi was raised down there, he knows what's safe and what's not. Plus, I promised him some of my jelly worms in exchange already, so no backing out now!

- Wait, you're willing to give him your candy, but not me?

- We exhange candy, Don, not steal it.

- I don't steal jackshit! I would be willing to exchange, but your demands are just too high!

- Maybe you're just too poor to afford my candy-

- Alright, Raph is not doing this again! - Raph stood between the twins, then Mikey started pushing Leo in the vague direction of Hueso's.

- Come on, loverboy! They're waiting for you, so hurry up!

- Okay, okay, fine! Sheesh... - Leo rolled his eyes, but quickly jogged towards the restaurant, smiling and texting his boyfriend on the way.

Raph barely stopped himself from shouting at him because don't walk with your snout in your phone, do you WANT to get hit by a car??

Instead, he looked towards the other two turtles.

- Great! - Donnie exclaimed - Now that Leo left to bother bunny boy and the love birds left to do something romantic and possibly illegal, we should figure out what we should do next.

- Oh, I know! We should totally check out this one haunted house! – Mikey suggested, quickly taking out his phone and showing his brother a poster of a two-story, victorian looking house with a tall, spiky fence and „A house straight from your nightmares!” written in a spooky font on the bottom of the screen.

His brothers stared at the photo, then at Mikey.

- You want to go to the haunted mansion.

- Yep!

- Of your own free will.

A pause.

-Yyyyes…? – Mikey started sweating under their questioning  gazes.

- It was most likely a dare from someone. Either April or Leo.

- Agreed.

- Oh, come on, guys! Have some faith in me!

His brothers just raised their eyebrows.

-…Leo wouldn’t stop teasing me.

They see the site of haunted house, which had a lot of bad reviews, mostly complaining about it not being scary in the slightest, which they took as a good sign. Having Raph accidentally deck a scare actor in the face on instinct probably wouldn’t end pretty. They decided, with only slight hesitence, to check it out. It was only around 15 minutes away, so they went on foot and rated costumes and decorations they saw while walking, the usual fuss of New York now accompanied by the sound of doorbells and candy wraps.

When they arrived at their destination (which looked nothing like the one on the site or posters) and entered the first room, they all immediately noticed that it was, indeed, very bad. The room was very brightly lit with white leds, the furniture looked like it was pulled out of some old lady’s apartment, covered with plastic spiderwebs and cheesy halloween decorations, like paper ghosts and candles that were probably supposed to resemble pumpkins, but did not look or smell like them at all.

When they walked around, they started to relax more and more, the poor attempts at scaring them being more funny than scary.

- Did anybody put any thought into this? – Mikey giggled, looking at the so obviously drawn with a marker cracks in the mirror of the fifth bathroom they entered.

- This is what projects done 3 hours before the deadline look like – Donnie deadpanned, gesturing towards the oh, so scary writing and hand prints on the walls and floor – This literally looks like ketchup.

- Maybe it is ketchup? – Mikey examined the fake blood with a hand on his chin.

- Doubt it. It doesn’t really smell like ketchup, and replacing it every few days would be way too expensive for the most likely low bugdet the owners probably have.

- Eh, with how little care this place has, they could technically just leave it there and Raph are you trying to lick the fake blood i swear to god-

After making sure Raph doesn’t  eat any decorations, they went into the final room, which was visibly more thought out than the rest of the building. Which wasn’t saying much, but it was something, at least.

It was a longer hallway with almost no light,crookedly hanged paintings they could barely make out, peeled wallpapers with rusted nails sticking out, which were obviously just nails painted orange, even with the poor lighting.

The turtles went in, still not scared but noticing the change. Mikey, who was in the front, walked forward, trying to make out the different paintings on the wall since he was pretty sure most of them were just top results from pinterest, not hearing the (not very subtle) creek of the wood above him.

And suddenly something jumped into his face from the ceiling with a loud screech and he couldn’t stop the shriek he let out, instictively clinging to Raph who wasn’t doing much better. And it got worse when suddenly something wet got thrown right at them, staining their costumes. The wall next to them opened, showing another hallway, where they could see the door with a bright „EXIT” sign.

They left the room and now, in good lighting, they could see that their clothes had splatters of the same fake blood from earlier rooms which, now that they noticed it, actually smelled really bad. Mikey looked over the damage to their costumes in annoyance, already thinking about how hard it will be to get rid of them and-

- Donnie, why is your costume just fine?

- Well, while you two were screaming like little girls-

-We were not-

- I decided to hide behind our beloved oldest brother, letting him take the brunt of it.

- You used Raph as a meat shield??

- That’s one way to call it – Donnie said, already heading towards the bright green „Gift shop” sign.

Mikey pouted, but only settled for a glare in Donnie’s direction, hopping onto Raph’s shell.

- Hey, don’t worry, big man! At least we’re still matching – Raph pointed out, gesturing to their cat onesies.

- Yea, we look like street cats now – Mikey snickered, poking Raph’s forehead – Still can’t believe we convinced you to wear this thing as a costume.

- Raph doesn’t turn away from a dare – the snapper grinned in response - Besides, I can look like a boss in everything!

- Yeah, unlike Donnie with his boring suit no one recognized.

- Excuse you-?!

Donnie started ranting for the next 10 minutes about how he was „obviously dressed up as Robert Oppenheimer” and how „the education system is in shambles if no one can recognize something so apparent”. He stopped after a bit, realizing his brothers didn’t listen to a word he was saying, then joined them looking through different souvenirs in the gift shop. Everything was overpriced to all hell, predictably, but there were a few fun things that they played with, only messing with them and not buying them because of the very poor quality.

There was also some food you could buy at the counter, which they weren’t sure was decorated to look expired or actually sat there for 3 weeks.

They looked over the snacks, their eyes drawn to the „zombie slushies”.

Mikey looked at Raph, already knowing the answer to his question but still asking:

- You’re going to try it, aren’t you.

- Yes. Yes I will.

They bought the slushie, the cashier looking at them like she wanted to be anywhere else but here. It was warm and cold at the same time, looking like a bunch of crushed ice, blue so faded it was practically gray, with water on the bottom. There were also weird, differently colored chunks in it that they decided weren’t poisonous. Probably.

Raph chugged the drink in one go and barely, barely stifled a gag, almost dropping Mikey. Apparently it tasted like battery acid with a hint of blueberry mixed with sewer water.

They left the haunted house, Raph looking a bit greener than usual. He didn’t throw up though, which they still counted as a win.

The turtles decided it was time to get home. The moment they got back in the lair they took off their costumes, Mikey and Raph throwing theirs into the washing machine, then got into hoodies and pajamas, deciding to do a turtle pile in the living room. They turned on the TV, sound quiet and brightness low, just to have something in the background, munching on their candy and enjoying the comfortable silence.

_________________________

Donnie and his backup turtles + April (Donnie stop calling us that) (No die) (fight fight fight) (Lol)

NeonLeon9000: how tf did she even do that

GreenApricot: idk?? turns out you can fix a coffee machine by fist fighting it with an ungodly amount of glitter pens

GreenApricot: the more you know

NeonLeon9000: i swear casey is going to tunr out to be a lab experiment or something and i will not be suprised becuase how does she even exist

Big Brother Who Is The Biggest: do I even wanna know?

NeonLeon9000: if you wann sleep at night then no

NeonLeon9000: /srs

LocalChef: Well that’s terrifying!

NeonLeon9000: btw im staying at usagis tonight

NeonLeon9000: we r having a slumber party

NeonLeon9000: more slumber less party but still

LocalChef: Are you coming back in the morning or are you staying there until later? I can save you some breakfast if you want!

NeonLeon9000: Nah me n usagi ar gonna go out and get some food

NeonLeon9000: thx tho <3

LocalChef: <3

NeonLeon9000: btw did you go to that haunted house i told you abt or did you chicken out

NeonLeon9000: i think we can all guess the answer

LocalChef: nvm I’m taking that heart back

Big Brother Who Is The Biggest: We all went together, actually! Lots of fun

NeonLeon9000: no offense raph but i still dont trust you bc of the candy thing

NeonLeon9000: pics or it didn’t happen

BootyyyShaker9000: [A picture of Mikey and Raph clinging to each other while screaming in the haunted house]

BootyyyShaker9000: Glad I could capture this lovely moment.

GreenApricot:SKDSDJHSJKJKDS

NeonLeon9000:LMAOO

LocalChef: WHATT

LocalChef: BETRAYAL ╰（‵□′）╯

NeonLeon9000:bet yall screamed like toddlers

NeonLeon9000: don please tell me you recorded it

BootyyyShaker9000: Who do you take me for?

BootyyyShaker9000: [sound file]

BootyyyShaker9000: Best quality on the market.

GreenApricot: Y’all are never living this down lol

Big Brother Who Is The Biggest: puts head in hands

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

Bonus: Favorite candy of all the turtles!

Leo: Blue raspberry flavored gummy bears, jelly worms, Oreos, cotton candy

Mikey: Candy jewelery, any halloween related candy, caramel apples (especially with spooky food coloring), sour strips, candy corn,

Donnie: grape flavored bubble tape, purple skittles, grape flavored „Dum-Dums” -  lolipops, nerds

Raph: Candy jewelery, hard candy, original skittles, peppermints

[miekasa]

daylight’s wasting (you better kiss me)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x reader

↯ genre and warnings: college au, fluff, someone please be gentle with this boy i’m begging you, jean and eren pretending they don’t give a fuck about each other whilst actually being best bros for the win

↯ word count: 2k

↯ summary: based off of that reddit post about some guy talking about his girlfriend washing his hair for the first time + hoping it fills a request for someone asking for reader playing with eren’s hair for the first time :’)

↯ notes: this is cross-posted and edited slightly from another blog in a completely separate fandom, so if you’ve seen it before, no you didn’t </2

Jean can’t say that he immediately noticed a pep in Eren’s step when the green-eyed boy met him in the library, but what he does notice is the stupid, dopey looking grin and starry-eyed gaze in his eyes that he’s sporting while he’s not doing his part for their project. And while Jean considers himself relatively attractive, he knows for sure Eren isn’t shy about making it known that he doesn’t; so the brunette doubts the literal heart eyes Eren has are for him.

“Eren? Eren, bro, are you good?” Jean calls, a dark eyebrow raised above his left eye. Eren barely registers the calls of his name, and it takes Jean waving his hands in front of the shorter’s face for him to wake from his trance, looking up at Jean with that same, longing smile (that’s, admittedly, starting to creep him the fuck out).

“Yeah,” Eren sighs, something reminiscent of a lovelorn cartoon prince, as he rests his elbow atop his notebook and his chin the palm of his hand, “I’m good.”

Jean looks at him, skeptical and confused. He shifts in his seat, but Eren’s eyes don’t follow—he just stares ahead, lost in thought and completely unaware of everything around him. He looks like a lovesick little bitch if you ask Jean. Or completely sloshed.

Slowly, Jean leads forward, eyebrows pinched, looking for streaks of red in Eren’s eyes, “Are you stoned right now?”

“What?” Eren pulls back, almost offended, “No, I’m not high—Jean, what the fuck?”

Jean simply shrugs, leaning back into his seat, “I dunno. Yesterday you were so stressed about your acrobatic salt cycle samples—”

“—Acetylsalicylic acid. It’s basically Asprin, and I wasn’t stressed, they just weren’t crystallizing the they way they’re supposed to—”

“I don’t fucking care. But now you look mellow as hell,” Jean cuts him off, “Just thought maybe you rolled a good one before coming here or something. Not that I’m judging, of course. But you’re much more of a lightweight than you think, so try not to go—”

“‘M not a fucking lightweight,” Eren groans, “You and Reiner are just heavy bodied.”

“Just admit you can’t hold your shit, Jaeger.”

“I’m not admitting shit. Mikasa makes strong drinks, that’s all.”

Jean grits his teeth at Eren’s stubborn antics, but lets it go. It’s not like the conversation was going anywhere, anyways. “If you’re not baked, then what’s got your head in the clouds?”

Eren shifts in his seat now, pulling his hand off the table, and into his lap. Jean’s suspicious eyebrow is quirked again, and that slightly creeped-out feeling is back when he spots Eren’s ears going red.

Jesus Christ, he just asked a simple question.

“Not that I care,” Jean tacks on, feigning disinterest, “But if it’s gonna keep you from doing your half of the project, just spill it already so we can get this shit over with.”

Eren rolls his eyes, but that blush is still there. He looks like he contemplates waving it off for a minute, before he sighs. “(Y/N) and I showered together yesterday,” he finally blurts.

Jean blinks. “Oh. So you got laid—”

“—No, no, it wasn’t like that!” Eren corrects him, the red on his ears spreading to his cheeks slowly, with every word that spills out of his mouth. Eren stutters, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, “She just… She washed my hair.”

Eren sighs, flustered and frustrated, and annoyed that he looks like this in front of Jean’s horse-faced ass of all people; but he knows, that no matter how much shit Jean talks, he can rely on him. For better or (often times) for worse.

And Jean, for as hotheaded as he can get, and for as much as Eren annoys the shit of out him, knows how to read a room; and in this moment, he can see that Eren is actually coming to him with genuine emotions, other than masked anger and abrasiveness. So, the both of them concede; pull back from their usual pointed commentary, and listen to what the other has to say. 

“Ah,” Jean comments, lamely; an embarrassed blush of his own growing on his face at his stupidity. The two sit in silence for a moment, before Jean speaks up again, “It’s, uh… It’s nice, right?”

Eren’s eyes snap to him, wide. He almost completely forgot that Jean’s in a committed relationship, too. The two don’t often go to each other for relationship advice, or… relationship venting, but Eren makes a mental note that maybe, just maybe, he should.  

“Yeah,” Eren admits, “I don’t, uh, I don’t know how to explain it. It was just—”

“Relaxing?”

“Yeah. Like all the bullshit from school just melted away all of a sudden,” Eren confesses, “All she fucking did was wash my hair and hum for, like, five minutes, but I feel like… I don’t know. Good.”

Jean hums, acknowledging Eren’s words and mulling them over. “Loved,” he chimes in with an awkward cough, “Pretty sure that’s the word you’re looking for, Jaeger.”

Eren chokes on air, his eyes darting around the room. So, yeah, it’s still a little awkward, talking with Jean of all people about his relationship, and love, and all that gushy stuff; but, even Eren can admit, it’s comforting to know that someone knows what he’s feeling—even if that someone is Jean.

“You should tell her. Girls like that shit, when you tell em what you’re thinking, you know?” Jean comments, picking up his pen to resume scribbling in his notebook. He sounds nonchalant, but from the redness on his face, Eren can tell he’s just as flustered, and probably thinking about his own girlfriend. “Besides, you’ve been together for a long ass time now. Don’t know what you’re waiting for at this point.”

“Yeah,” Eren coughs, pretending to resume his own homework, “Yeah, I think I will.”

“Good,” Jean nods, “Now will you fucking paste your paragraph in the Google Doc so I can rewrite it and make it coherent.”

“Fuck you, it’s coherent as is.”

“As if. I’ve read your shit before, and it sounds like it was written by six year old on meth. You science majors can’t write to save your life.”

“Tough talk from someone who can’t do basic addition.”

“Derivatives and shit aren’t basic addition, they were created by a man who died a virgin. Tells me everything I need to know about them and you.”

Three days later, Eren finds himself alone in your off-campus apartment, laying on your bed, stomach to the mattress, while he tries to convince himself to study for his upcoming biology exam. He finds looking around your room to be much more interesting, though, and takes the time to notice things he hadn’t before.

There’s a small strip of images of the two of your in a clear mason jar on your nightstand—the newest addition to your collection—from the photo booth at the ice-skating rink you went to last week. Eren doesn’t know why you insist on going to every photo booth you come across, but who is he to deny you the pictures.

When he looks to your closet, he isn’t surprised to see two of his hoodies, one of his warm-up soccer uniforms, and last season’s hockey jersey hanging up. What does surprise him, is the way they’re all hung up next to each other, like they have their own little section amongst your clothing; like they were reserved, special almost. He bets they’re all probably washed and clean, too; because you take care of his things like that.

He thinks about how he has a few pairs of sweatpants and pajamas—hell, even a pair of slacks and a button-down from one of your fancier dates—all tucked away in his very own drawer in your dresser. The bucket hats thats you claim are oh-so ugly still have their own place in your room, hanging next to your belts. Even his psychology textbook sits on your desk, clearly set aside for him and taken care of, but still integrated amongst your other belongings. 

You seem to be the only person who thinks Eren and all his baggage can have a place in your life. You seem to always have space for things to fit in, no matter how stupid, or ugly, or tattered they are; no matter how emotional, or lost, or impulsive he is. Nothing is out of place here, himself included. 

Lost in his thoughts, Eren doesn’t register the sound of your front door opening, or your footsteps growing louder. In fact, he doesn’t register that you’re home at all, until you come padding into your bedroom, shaking your backpack off of your shoulders and setting it next to his on the ground.

“Hey, baby,” you greet him, almost offhandedly, as you place your coffee down on your desk. He doesn’t mind—actually the element of practiced casualness in your tone brings a kind of warmth to him, and makes his stomach flutter. 

“Hey,” he smiles, a stupidly fond look in his eye as his watched you shimmy your jacket off of your shoulders. 

Eren sits himself upwards, shifting so that his long legs dangle off the edge of your bed as he watching your silhouette move throughout your bedroom. When you’re finished removing all your layers and jewelry, you finally look to him, greeting him a second time as you walk towards him and your bed.

Eren cages you in when you reach him, his ankles wrapped on top of each other as he secures you standing between his legs. He wraps his arms loosely around your waist, while your fingers crawl up the nape of his neck.

“Your hair’s dry,” you hum, your fingers raking through his brown locks as if to make your point, “You didn’t shower yet?”

Eren shakes his head lightly, craning his neck forwards to tuck the cold tip of his nose into your collar. He holds you a little tighter when you smooth his hair down, one of your hands resting against the back of his neck, and lightly scraping at the hairs near his nape.

“How come?” you question innocently, “I thought your classes ended a few hours ago—did your lab go late again? You should tell your TA you have a life outside of trying to culture bacteria in a dish, you know.”

Eren chuckles lightly, but feels the concern in your voice tug heavily at his heart strings. You seem to really hate his lab TA.

“Wasn’t him this time,” Eren mumbles against your skin, “Was waiting for you.”

“Yeah? That gonna be a regular thing, now?”

“Wouldn’t mind,” Eren confesses, words barely audible as he buries his face into your neck. He tries tickle you with his eyelashes, shift the heat towards you, but you move out of reach too quickly; your hands on his shoulders, forcing him to sit upright.

He has to look up you, just slightly, and he hopes he doesn’t look like a complete blushing idiot. If he does, you don’t seem to mind, if the way you cup his face between your hands is any indication.

“Well then, come on. I bought two new loofahs yesterday.”

Eren follows you to the bathroom with a smile, borderline giggling with excitement all the way to the shower. When it comes down to it, he relishes in the feeling of your fingertips against his scalp, suds of shampoo cascading down his neck as you find amusement in coiling his hair into a bubbly mohawk.

It’s so mundane, so simple, yet overwhelmingly intimate the way you’re taking care of him—the way you always take care of him. It fills Eren to the brim with emotions he can’t even begin to convey with words.

And when you’ve had you’re fun, and made sure his hair is throughly clean and smells like apples, you take your body wash on the ball of his (his! his very own!) loofah, and scrub away at his back, down his shoulders, across his torso; and Eren can’t stop the tears from falling.

He realizes his must look bizzare, to be standing the middle of your shower, crying like a baby with soap and suds all over his body, but he can’t help himself.

“Eren? Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he assures you, hiccuping between his words and sniffling away any more tears that threaten to fall. You don’t seem convinced, and once again, Eren feels his heart swell at just the sheer thought at you’d hold even an ounce of concern for him the way you do.

“You’re crying, Eren,” you point out, voice soft, but clearly concerned, as you reach your hands up to cup his face again, “Did I hurt you? What’s wr—”

Eren cuts you off by wrapping you in a hug, hoping—praying—you know that you could never hurt him. The two of you spend nearly five whole minutes like that, your arms wrapped around each other’s middles, with warm water pouring over your naked skin. Eren can feel you pressing shallow kisses into his chest, and he feels his heart physically swell every time your lips make contact with his skin.

It’s on the fifth, quiet press of your lips that Eren knows he can’t hold it in anymore; pulls away from your embrace to look you in your eyes.

“I love you,” he finally confesses, with wet hair stuck to his forehead, and teary eyes. It’s hardly a picture perfect moment, but Eren can’t bring himself to care; he needs you to know.

But, of course, you already did. “I know, Eren,” you say with a smile, kissing his chin, and then on the tips of your toes, his lips, “And I love you more.”

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for July 2021! Below you’ll find One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​.

Happy reading!

Game Changer by @neondiamond

[Harry/Louis, 6k, Mature, tumblr post]

“Did the doctor say what was wrong with you?”

“He thought I was pregnant,” Louis scoffs. “Told me to go home and take a test, a pregnancy test, Haz. Can you imagine the nerve it takes for him to even think that?”

Harry looks lost in his thoughts for a few seconds. “Did you? Take a test, I mean?”

“Of course I didn’t.”

OR: A couple months before playing in his first long-awaited World Cup, Louis finds out he’s pregnant. Harry’s there for the ride.

(I Was Broke) You Healed Me by @fallinglikethis

[Harry/Niall, 12k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Niall Horan is an unmated pregnant omega living on his own after his alpha boyfriend leaves him. Far from his family and friends in Ireland, Niall is stuck living in a complex for Alpha/Omega bondmates, terrified every day of being found out by his landlord.As if that isn't enough, he's suffering from touch deprivation. Luckily, Niall's doctor can at least help him with that part: she prescribes Niall some cuddle sessions. It's only a little weird that the person she's prescribing him is her brother. Or maybe that's actually a little bit perfect.

The Only Pain in Pleasure is the Pleasure of the Pain by Layne Faire / @laynefaire

[Liam/Zayn, 10k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Liam had followed InZaynity, an artist's Instagram, for ages. Not only was the artist incredibly talented, his voice poured over Liam like warm honey on a winter's night, and his hands were the stuff Liam's wank dreams were made of. However, having Zayn unexpectedly arrive as the newest artist at his best friend's tattoo shop brought Liam's fantasies and reality a little too close for comfort.

Zayn Malik met his boss' friend on his first day at Fine Line Tattoos, and felt an instant attraction. Unfortunately, given Liam's unwillingness to even hold a conversation with him, Zayn was certain the feelings weren't reciprocal. Or were they?

When Liam's new tattoo design falls outside the scope of Tommo's talent, and he recommends Zayn do it, Liam reluctantly agrees. Surely he could manage to spend hours in Zayn's company without revealing his biggest secret, right? Right?

Blow Me Away by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

[Louis/Liam, 6k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Louis likes giving blow jobs.

He doesn't exactly get off on it – he's been with people who properly loved it, and he's not quite that into it – but he doesn't mind the feel or the taste and he really, really likes watching his partner lose it, so getting down on his knees regularly is a no brainer.

Which is why it's a bit frustrating that every time he does, Liam hauls him back up again.

Why Didn't We Make Out the Night We Met? by @berzerkshires

[Louis/Harry, 52k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Louis and Harry meet in an alley outside the hotel Louis is staying for the weekend. Harry introduces himself as Ed, and Louis is completely clueless. They have a relationship through text messages, phone calls, shared pictures and Facetime calls. Is a cell phone being the only source of communication enough? Will Louis ever learn that he's really talking to an international popstar? And what happens when the world is shutdown due to a wide spread virus?

I Love This Feeling (But I Hate This Part) by @lululawrence

[Harry/Louis, 7k, Not rated, tumblr post]

“Stand up.”

Harry stood up from the couch, not a moment’s delay.

“Oh my god, is that what that’s like?” Harry turned to Louis, surprise on his face. “I really thought they were somehow exaggerating, but it really is an automatic response with absolutely no thought from me behind it whatsoever.”

Louis sighed again. “You really wanna keep doing this? Have me use my alpha voice on you so you can work on resisting it?”

“Yup,” Harry said, clapping his hands and smiling. “How else am I going to be able to have any chance at reducing the power an alpha voice has on me?”

I Said It Wrong, But I Meant It Right by @lululawrence

[Liam/Nick Grimshaw, 4k, Not rated, tumblr post]

Nick was a bit of a disaster, but she was used to it.

Or so she thought. She had never known how much she could struggle just to function until the new fire lady goddess angel person winked at her.

Oh, Those Summer Nights by cherrylarry / @beelou

[Louis/Harry, 1k, General, tumblr post]

“Are you okay?” He kneels down to inspect where Harry still has his hand pressed against his head.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.”

“My name’s Louis. Can I buy you dinner or something to make up for hitting you in the head?”

Harry crinkles his eyebrows. “Me?”

Louis chuckles. “Yes, you. If you’d like?”

“Yeah. That would be nice.” Harry smiles so that his dimples show. “I’m Harry.”

“Harry, it's a date, then." Louis grins.

An extended scene of the beginning of the movie Grease as a larry au

people fall in love in mysterious ways (maybe just the touch of a hand) by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers, @justalarryblog / Bekita, @bluecolouredlou , @beelou / cherrylarry, @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain, @hershelsue / docklands, @foreverfanficaddict,@idolizingthelight / idolizingthelightt, @inlockets / loveroflou, @perfectdagger, @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Louis/Harry, 13k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Set in a world where meeting your soulmate causes a literal spark, Louis Tomlinson has no time for fate. He knows all too well the heartbreak that having a soulmate can bring and he'd rather avoid the whole affair. But, when a chance meeting with up-and-coming popstar, Harry Styles, causes the biggest electrical surge the world has ever seen, Louis must confront the truth that sometimes destiny knocks when you least expect it.

Somehow, Someway by @zanniscaramouche

[Louis/Harry, 16k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Louis Tomlinson has everything all figured out for a smooth post-graduation sailing into the perfect career in the music industry. A canceled class, a high school play, and a disarming set of dimples were not part of the plan. (Especially when they belong to a boy wearing someone else’s jacket.)

Featuring: A punk with the worst timed crush in history, that moody art kid that never shares cigarettes, the cutest pastel-pink wearing boy on the planet, and his unfortunately nice bottle-blond jock of a boyfriend.

Forts & Fortunes by @neondiamond

[Louis/Harry, 2k, General, tumblr post]

It’s finals week at uni and Harry is struggling to find a healthy balance between studying and tending to his needs. Lucky for him, Louis is there to help him out with that.

One way to reduce tension by @neondiamond

[Harry/Louis, 1k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry knows of a few ways to help Louis get rid of some pent up stress…

We Got a Call by @greenblueish / bluegreenish

[Louis/Harry, 24k, Mature, tumblr post]

“Fisher from St Peter hospital, hello. Is this Mr Tomlinson?”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow in concern. Why is the hospital calling him? Has someone he knows been in an accident? “Uh, yes?”

“Great. Your results are in. Congratulations, you’re pregnant!”

“Pregnant?” he chokes, the word almost getting caught in his throat.

“Yes, without doubt,” the woman from the hospital confirms, her voice neutral but somehow chirpy. “I recommend promptly booking an appointment with your ob/gyn to discuss how to proceed.”

"I...Yeah, I’ll talk to my … partner.”

or, the one where Louis and Harry Tomlinson are married and Louis accepts a phone call that was definitely meant for his husband.

How Long Will We Fall (Before We Can Climb) by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 860 words, General, tumblr post]

Louis' faith in Harry is unbreakable. When they get caught kissing and he is thrown out of his home forever, he has to learn to have faith in himself.

Rope, Leather and Lipstick by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 552 words, Mature, tumblr post]

Something about ropes around wrists, and tinting skin the colour of strawberry ice cream, tender and kissed by dark lips. Smudging sticky red lipstick across the slight blue shadow of veins, and assuring hands tightening knots.

Lies & Liability by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 34k, Mature, tumblr post]

Harry Styles has only three wishes when he leaves River Dane Manor to go to Town for his first season: that his sister has rented a townhouse that will provide him as many of the comforts of the country life he has grown accustomed to as possible, that he will not trip and fall when he is presented to Her Majesty the Queen, and that he will enter matrimony out of true love, no matter how favourable the match with any which alpha may be.

Sugar at Night by @brightgolden

[Harry/Louis, 33k, Explicit, tumblr post]

With a year left before he completes his degree, a wonderful fiancé, and a baby coming soon, life is going exceptionally well for Harry Styles.

But, the truth always has a way to unravel itself, doesn’t it?

So, what do you do when the person you fell in love with is not the person you thought they were?

I got myself in a mess (and without you I'm in more) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Zayn/Liam, 9k, Mature, tumblr post]

It’s not desire that has his synapses firing. It’s not the urge to jump him that makes him feel jittery.

It’s the fact that everything about this man - a nice, unassuming guy on Tinder, who studied IT and who seemed like a safe choice - screams danger. It’s the fact that Zayn has been absently touching his necklace for what feels like half the night now.

The necklace. Thank God for Lou, honestly. He’d laughed a bit, at first, when Louis had given it to him, when he’d explained all about the app that it was connected to, the emergency contacts that would be notified and sent his exact location “if you just double tap the back of the charm, see” because Louis was that friend, the mom friend, but right now? Right now Zayn will gladly take the gentle ribbing from Louis if it means he won’t have to spend another moment with this guy.

I don't care if the world knows by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Louis/Harry, 6k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Harry is fourteen when she buys her first binder. She’s been doing cosplay videos on Tiktok for a while at that point, and it seems like the logical choice. Not that there’s anything wrong with cosplaying characters of the opposite gender and not wanting to fully look like them, she’s seen plenty of wonderful creators put their own spin on characters in a way that transcends the source material, but when it comes to her own cosplays -

She just likes it to be accurate.

She likes her chest to be flat, not soft and curvy, when she’s wearing her Crowley cosplay, or when she’s transformed herself into Loki.

It’s all about the aesthetics.

∞

Over the course of a few years, Harry explores and comes to terms with gender identity.

It’s Probably Because I’ve Got a Big Lesbian Crush on You by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Louis/Harry, 6k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Harry's never really concerned herself with being part of the popular crowd. But as the new girl in school the second semester of her junior year, she finds herself unwittingly competing for Queen Bee status against high school royalty Louis Tomlinson. Maybe there's more to their rivalry than it seems.

A not-quite-Mean Girls AU

Going Green (so fucking green) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Louis/Harry, 5k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry just really loves being used, and Louis really loves Harry. Who is he to deny him?

Or: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle but make it BDSM

the next bit was spanners to my plan by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

[Louis/Nick Grimshaw, 6k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

The first time was an accident. The second time was an accident too.

Or: Louis and Nick end up shagging on the sly, everyone sends far too many emojis and far too few words, and eventually they're going to have to sort themselves out.

Trust Me Tonight by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers

[Louis/Harry, 10k, Explicit, tumblr post]

After Harry’s eighteenth birthday, his father calls him into a meeting to say that he is to be married to Prince Louis of France in just over a week.

Harry is excited, of course. The arrangement is better than any he could’ve hoped for, with such a young, handsome and kind husband.

There is just one issue: Harry doesn’t know what happens on his nuptials, or how to get pregnant to give Louis the heir that he needs.

Can we make it any more obvious? by LouStylesHTommo / @smolhilariousbeans

[Louis/Harry, 6k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Five times the boys accidentally walked in on Harry & Louis plus one time they did it on purpose.

Aka Niall, Zayn, Liam being supportive of Lou&H sexy shenanigans.

darling just dive right in by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Zayn/Louis, 5k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Louis can’t think of a worse place to be than at the Malik estate, attending his ex boyfriend's wedding.

Shining just for you by ThoseFookin_Avacados / @hlhome28

[Harry/Louis, 1k, General, tumblr post]

For a clumsy person, Harry danced with quite the grace- spinning around Louis, billowy light robes brushing against his firm darker ones. Despite his slightly smaller build, Louis was decivingly strong, his grip on Harry's waist tight as they performed their steps in sync. Like two opposite halves of a whole, like ones reflection in the mirror, like the sun and the moon.

Part 2 of the Prompt Generator series

crown me with your heart (your love is king) by @perfectdagger

[Louis/Harry, 41k, General, tumblr post]

The universe must’ve had a field day when it decided to plan Harry’s life. There was no plausible explanation for anything that happened in his life anymore. Try as he may, he would never be able to control his life nor predict what would happen next. What were the odds that the one person he was sure he had fallen in love with but had completely let him slip out of his life, already resigned to the fact nothing could ever evolve between them due to Harry’s future with Eroda, happened to be the same person who had Harry’s future in his hand?

A The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Wedding au in which Harry is the Crown Prince of the small island of Eroda and Louis’ uncle is trying to take the throne from him, with a slight a/b/o twist and some more.

[sweetesthaaze]

24 Days of TVWLM // Day 2

March 2nd: Chapter 1

Note: It feels like there's going to be something every single day of March! I was talking to @viscountesskatesharma and @sassynach yesterday and this morning about how they will not let us rest with the abundance of content we've gotten just over the last 2 days (and the controversies that come with it). Wonder what we're going to get tomorrow. Okay on to chapter 2! This is a long one guys. I have so many favorite quotes, I honestly will not hold it against you if you don't read all of it! My inbox is always open for your thoughts!

Thoughts:

One thing I absolutely love about this chapter is how well it sets up Kate and Edwina. Right off the bat you can see their bond as sisters is super strong, even with there being 4 years between them. I relate so much since my sister is my best friend and also 4 years older than me. I feel like JQ got their relationship down pat! The way Kate is fiercely protective of Edwina and how Edwina values her sisters opinion (and protectiveness) so much, and their banter!

Something new I noticed is the reason Kate is so protective of Edwina, is because that's exactly how Mary was toward Kate when she first married Kate's father and I love it so much (the quote will be in the fav quotes section below). The Sharma family dynamic has always been one of the highlights of the book for me.

I love the little tidbit we got at the end too, with the ABC brothers. I always loved those scenes because there's always this hint of chaos (sometimes it's way bigger than a hint, ie in Eloise's book) surrounding them when they all get together. And the fact that Anthony literally listed the attributes he wanted in a partner and reasonably thought he could get all that without falling in love?? Literally clown behavior!

But that's also what makes his adamancy in NOT marrying Kate so great, because he KNEW even from the moment he met her (even if he didn't realize it) that he could fall in love with her. Ugh, this is why I love them so much, the angst!!

Show scenes:

I wonder if they're going to introduce the Smythe-Smith concerts this season. We never get to see the scene in the book, but I would love to see Edwina standing up and announcing for the entire ton to hear that if anyone wants to marry her, they have to impress Kate first. The ruckus it would cause! (Though I've been thinking a bit on how this must have affected Kate a lot more than we realize. She already states multiple times that she thinks she's not as pretty as Edwina or that any suitors that come to the house would be for Edwina and not her. I know Edwina did not have malicious intentions at all, but it must have sucked to have so many suitors coming up to you and trying to impress you, just so they could get to your sister).

I NEED to see the scene of Benedict falling off the chair and then Colin choking on an olive after Anthony tells them he's going to look for a wife. That would be hilarious!

Favorite parts/scenes:

I loved hearing Kate talk about rakes and mistresses and Mary being all scandalized. It was such a good mother daughter moment! And how Edwina was insinuating that Kate was already interested in the Viscount because she wants to read the newest LW column about him. I love the sisterly teasing coming from both of them!

Edwina being loyal and not wearing white because Kate isn't either, is just something so special to me.

It was so sweet how Kate, despite their financial troubles, made sure Edwina knew that Edwina didn't have to marry anyone she didn't like, even if it was a tad bit unrealistic or unhelpful since I think no matter what Edwina felt that pressure to marry rich (not that Kate would EVER make or encourage Edwina to marry someone she didn't like just because he was rich). And then telling her that if she doesn't find anyone, they'll just go back home and basically be spinsters together. Again, I love them!

Favorite quotes:

"But Kate grinned. There was little she liked better than teasing her sister." - I'm going to need all the big sister teasing in the show please, this is so cute!

"'When I married your father,' she'd said, "I vowed to love you and bring you up with all the care and affection I'd give to a child of my own blood.' ... 'I have a responsibility to your poor mother, God rest her soul, and part of that responsibility is to see you married off happily and securely.'" - Mary is such a good mother!

"Edwina's eyes ... glinted devilishly. 'You're awfully interested in the viscount, Kate. Is there something you're not telling us?'" - Edwina is a psychic! Or she saw the viscount from afar and just knew Kate and Anthony would argue and then fall in love. Her and that bee are the captain of our ship.

"'Isn't that dog supposed to stay outside?' Mary asked. Then she yelped, 'Kate!' as the dog angled over to her feet and panted as if waiting for a kiss." - Mary being slightly frightened of Newton, when all he wants is to love her is so funny to me!

"'Am I so difficult to impress, then?' The two sisters looked at each other, then answered in unison, 'Yes.'" - It's quotes like this that made me remember why the prospect of a love triangle between Kate, Edwina and Anthony made me so mad. These sisters would NEVER.

"Since the day he left Oxford and headed west to London, he'd not been without a mistress. Sometimes, he thought wryly, he's not been without two." - RAKE WITH A CAPITAL R!

"Anthony actually smiled a bit as he thought of his large and often boisterous family. His son would not need a father to be well loved." - This was actually very sweet. Anthony loves his family so much.

"...when Anthony had asked if she thought the weather was going to turn inclement, she'd replied, 'I'm sure I don't know. I've never been to Clement.'" - Anthony talking about how he couldn't have a "stupid" wife was kind of annoying, but this made me laugh.

"To actually achieve more than Edmund had - in any way - that was nothing short of impossible." - Whenever Anthony thinks like this, it always just makes me so sad.

"'Spit it out,' Benedict said... 'I won't offer you a penny for your thoughts, since I know they can't possibly be worth that much, but what are you thinking about?'" - Benedict is the funniest of the ABC brothers and I stand by that. Luke T would say this line PERFECTLY!

I can't wait to get to the chapter where Kate and Anthony finally meet and just argue their way into bed together.

What did y'all think about chapter 1?? Don't forget to use the tag or tag me in your posts. Or again, just go to my inbox and let me know your thoughts there!

T-minus 23 more days until season 2!!

[ihearthes]

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Unnamed OFC Rating: Light Smut Word Count: 3500 Inspired by: @wanderlustwaving and “The Lady or the Tiger” by Frank Stockton

His eyes dart around the bar, seeking her. She has to be here. It’s tradition. Their tradition. January 1st. Every year. Sunset. Anguilla. The Four Seasons. 

Harry had booked this table nearest the bay a full year ago, confirming it in mid-June and again in early December. Sitting silently, his eyes shaded behind his sunnies, he watches the giant ball of fire as it descends into the water. Less of a sizzle than one would expect. Each sip of his Casamigos Blanco over ice is perfect. The sky lights up with oranges, reds, and yellows that are reflected on the clouds, resembling the Monet painting San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk which he had viewed in Cardiff. A second version hangs in Tokyo at Bridgestone Museum, and he had been lucky enough to see it once. 

The longer he watches its descent, the more he realises that this sunset is different from the paintings he’d seen. His fingers itch for watercolours or acrylics even though he knows his amateurish strokes would never capture the beauty. Last year, the sunset had been underwhelming, the clouds obscuring rather than reflecting the colours. Their first year, he had been unable to believe what he was seeing. It had been stunning with the reach of the palette across the sky, like tendrils of smoke straining to hug the entire planet. Now he captures his journal from the extra chair, opening it’s leather binding to a blank page. Flipping back to the beginning of his journal, he finds a sketch of her leaning on the railing -- drawn from memory years after their first meeting. His mind casts backwards to the non-date that had launched this annual trip. 

“Wow.” The voice belongs to a woman who steps to the railing next to him, leaning forward and twisting her head to take in the full sunset. Glancing at her, he does a double take as he recognizes her. Holy shit. She’s even more stunning in person. 

“Oh, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Harry’s calm voice is the opposite of his turbulent emotional state. 

“Seriously? It’s much closer to a 9.2.”

“You’ve lost your mind. It’s worthwhile, but not a 9.2,” he scoffs, shifting his body slightly closer to hers. He turns toward her, planting a single forearm on the railing as he observes her in her floral sarong that matches her bikini top. Her hair is bundled lazily on top of her head, and her tanned feet are encased in strappy sandals. Surreptitiously, he takes in her curves while she’s examining the sunset. 

Twisting her head quickly, she catches his eyes on her ass. Rather than blushing, he smiles at her instead, well aware that the dimple is doing it’s job appropriately. The live steel drum band starts a new song, and she boldly turns to him, holding out her hand. “Dance?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Grasping her fingers, Harry wraps one arm around her waist, stepping into her and leading them in time with the music. When he twirls her rather expertly, she laughs, planting a hand on his chest and gazing up at him with what appears to be a phony bashfulness. 

“I didn’t know you could dance,” she laughs. 

“Clearly you’ve never seen me live on stage,” Harry smirks. 

She clucks her tongue, “Oh, but I have. I said what I said, Styles.”

Looking away from her, he can’t help the smile that breaks loose. Damn, she’s got moxie. And it’s intriguing and beguiling. 

“You’re here alone?” he wonders, his eyes roaming the outdoor space. It’s filled with strangers -- to him anyway. 

“Tonight only. Yes.” She twirls him, and he grins at the move. 

“Me too.” The soft words are spoken into her ear as he’s drawn her closer. “I like to spend the first night of the year reflecting on the previous year.”

“Isn’t that what New Year’s Eve is for?” she wonders, her voice breathy. 

“Nah. That’s for drinking and celebrating with friends. Today is for reflection -- looking backwards and forwards simultaneously.”

“Planning to conquer the world this year, Mr. Styles?” 

“Indeed.” Arching an eyebrow, he mimics a cartoon villain, drawing his pinky to his mouth. 

She slaps at his chest, and he desperately wants to kiss her in that moment. After all, they are flirting, aren’t they? 

“Are you going to offer me dinner?” she asks boldly. “And take me to your room afterwards?”

Woah. Definitely gutsy. “Depends,” he whispers as he spins them both around once more while the band winds down. 

“On what?” 

“On what kind of sushi you prefer.”

“Ah!” There’s a gleam in her eye that he can’t resist. She’s playful and not shy about being the seductress. Harry finds the combination heady. Waving her hand in dismissal as she turns towards his table, “I usually try whatever the newest offering is -- especially if it’s fresh from those waters.” Fingers waggle in the direction of the bay, and he wants to grasp them out of the air and wrap them protectively in his own hand. 

Instead, he applauds the band before following behind her. At the table, she drags her chair from the opposite side of the small round table until she’s sat beside him. With his questioning glance, she again gestures towards the bay. “I’m not going to miss that sunset just so I can stare at your pretty face.” 

Rather than sketching the sunset, he attempts to paint the current sight with words. Everything he writes seems trite: clementines, flames, majestic, radiant, blush, hearth.

Where is she? Yes, it had been a year since they had spoken, but surely she would have sent a message if she weren’t planning to join him? Why hadn’t they exchanged numbers? Followed each other on Instagram? 

But he knows why. The mystery. The transcendental experience. The enchantment of meeting once a year, incognito, in this particular and magnificent place. No knowledge of each other outside of this 24 hours that belongs to them alone. 

Which is ridiculous. Because he certainly knows who she is and follows her career. And he would be astonished if she didn’t also pay attention to his. A few times this last year they had coincidentally been in the same city simultaneously, and he had seriously debated trying to locate her. Contact her manager maybe. Or put out feelers that would certainly have stretched to her ears like an old-fashioned game of Chinese Whispers (which of course isn’t what he should call the game now; it’s racist). The message, though, would have been garbled but sufficient for them to meet up. 

Every time, he refrained. Their unspoken commitment was to this place and this one day a year. Now he regrets not making contact. Had she decided that one day a year wasn’t worth the effort? Was she even now canoodling with someone else? There hadn’t been rumours of any recent love affairs on her end, and he snatches his phone anxiously to search her name just in case she connected with someone during the last week.

Picking up his now-empty glass of tequila as he scrolls through his phone, Harry draws an ice cube into his mouth, swirling it on his tongue to relish every tiny bit of the liquor there. The burn has vanished as it’s taken him nearly an hour to drink one tequila. No record of any new beaus. Maybe he should follow her now on social media? DM her? What would he do if she didn’t show? How much longer should he wait? 

“Oh yum! This roll is even better than last year’s.” She proclaims as she rushes to grasp the last bite of the Ceviche Roll. 

“Hey! That was mine!” Harry protests, laughing as she stuffs the full piece in her mouth. 

“Order more,” she mumbles around the rice, fish, and seaweed flavored with citrus and cilantro. 

“Nah, I’ve got a different appetite now,” he murmurs, watching her lips as she chews the sushi. 

Freezing, her eyes rush to his, and she slowly finishes the sushi she’s been eating, swallowing slowly. He wishes that she would move her chair to his side of the table like she had the previous year. This time, they’re seated on opposite sides of the table, but at an angle where both can watch the setting sun. 

“What?” Her look has made him nervous. “You’re not going to tell me you’re seeing someone, are you?” 

Her hair twirls as she shakes her head. “No. Broke up with him last week in anticipation of this.”

Having sipped his tequila, Harry chokes at her words. Coughing, he grasps the table with both hands. Holy fuck. She didn’t really expect him to --

“Kidding!” Her giggle lights up her eyes, bringing a light blush to her face. She’s truly stunning. Maybe even more than last year. 

When her foot, sans sandal, caresses his calf under the table, he knows that the night is going to be filled with sex. Fun, hot, brilliant sex that will last most of the night. Hmm...perhaps it would be best to fortify himself for their escapades. Raising his hand, he flags down the server. 

“Sir?”

“Another Ceviche Roll, por favor. Plus a bottle of Casamigos.” He pauses as her foot makes its way further up his leg, and he wonders if she’s going to slide under the table completely. “Send it to my room, please.” Voice catching as her toes make contact with his crotch, he demands, “Put it all on my tab please. I’ll settle up later.” 

With a nod of agreement, the server disappears. Quickly Harry rises, adjusting his slacks as he glances around the room. 

“Let’s go,” his voice rumbles. 

“But H -- the sunset,” she whines. 

“My room has the same view,” he insists, holding out his hand which she grasps. Gracefully sliding her foot back into her sandal, she rises and glides behind him towards the elevator. 

His stomach rumbles at the thought of eating, and he debates ordering food. The sushi at the sunset lounge is always fresh. In the past, though, they’ve enjoyed the dishes together, trying new ones every year. Dejected, he places his glass harshly on the table, his disappointment at her absence radiating across his psyche like the colours of the sunset. 

“I would say it’s a solid 8.5,” her voice sounds from over his shoulder, and he twists in surprise. Like the sunset beckons the stars, she summons happiness to his soul. He scrambles to rise, kissing her on both cheeks, his lips lingering each time. Not too long, though, in case others are watching and photographing. Which he always assumes these days. Fans. Paps. No privacy exists anywhere. 

“Hi,” he whispers, grateful for her presence, but unable to say the words that would tell her how worried he’s been. That might reveal too much of his emotions. And his heart. 

Fuck. When had his heart gotten involved? And why hadn’t he realised before this particular moment? 

“You agree?” she smiles, gesturing to the sunset. 

“I would say it’s a 9 or maybe even a 9.2,” Harry smiles, his dimple making an appearance to rival the sunset in front of them. 

“You finished your drink,” she nods at his empty glass. 

“I started early.” It’s a lame excuse, and he knows it. 

His annual partner tilts her head in his direction. “Or maybe I’m late?”

Not knowing how to respond, Harry waits, his fingers playing with the coaster underneath his drink, spinning it around, the glass slowly rotating with the cardboard circle with the restaurant’s name on it. 

“I debated,” she whispers, “unsure if I should…”

The server appears, a smile on his face. His white trousers and white shirt are complemented by a blue scarf at his neck, his accent strong. 

“What can I get you?”

Harry notices the man’s gaze on his companion’s breasts which draws his own attention to the bosom swelling around the buttons of her frock, which he just now notices has sunflowers across the lower half of the skirt. Was that on purpose? 

When she exchanges a knowing glance with Harry and smoothes the fabric over her legs, it becomes clear that she knows exactly what she was doing by choosing this dress.

He shifts in his seat. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she announces. 

Harry reminds the server, “Two Casamigos on the rocks please. And your newest sushi roll with light brown rice please. Thanks.”

Nodding, his date agrees to the order, and he’s relieved that at least the basics haven’t changed in the last year. 

“You were saying?” he prompts as the steward moves away from them. 

“Oh,” she blushes, her cheeks tinging slightly pink. “I just...wasn’t sure…” She swallows, her head down before she makes eye contact with him, “that this was a good idea.”

Taken aback, Harry settles his bum more deeply in his chair, feeling blindsided by the comment, wishing he had his tequila to soothe him in this moment. “I see,” he mumbles. 

“Harry --” she begins, and he waves a hand in her direction. 

“It’s just casual,” he unceremoniously argues, “right?” But his heart clutches at the phrasing. 

Her eyes drop to her lap where her hands are entwined. “Yes. I guess.” Her whisper makes him sweat. Fuck. Had she decided this was it? The last time? “It’s a pretty sunset,” she adds.

“Absolutely,” he concurs, anxious at what else she might say. Silence descends on the table much faster than the stars appear in the sky above them. Should he be vulnerable? Tell her how he feels? What he’s thinking? 

This year’s live steel drum band begins a new song, and without pause, she rises, holding her hand out for him to grasp. Grateful for the reprieve, he joins her in their corner of the outdoor restaurant, placing one hand on her waist as she rests her head on his chest. Together, they sway, and his mind wanders.

“I need another lime!” she shrieks gleefully, holding the bottle of tequila in her hand. Harry shakes his head from his position flat on the bed. They are going to need clean sheets before they sleep tonight. Maybe they will go to her room for actual sleep? 

What the fuck is he thinking? As if they had actually slept during their rendezvous in the previous two years. 

“Here. Hold this,” she laughs, thrusting a lime towards Harry to place in his mouth, pulp out. 

“Mhm. Me next,” he mumbles just before his teeth wrap around the green rind.

“You bet,” she giggles. Settling herself on the bed as she straddles him, her soft parts landing on his cock encased in its bright green briefs. She slides down his legs and leans forward, holding the bottle of tequila out to the side. “Mmmmm.” Licking a stripe up from the base of his underpants to his navel, she sprinkles salt there before tilting the bottle of Casamigos and allowing a shot of tequila to land in his taut navel. He’d worked hard on his abs the last couple of months, knowing that he would be lying here with her. They’ve got definition that most blokes only dream of. 

Quickly, her tongue captures the salt before she sucks the tequila from his belly and shifts forward to suck the lime that’s in his mouth. Fuck. If he hadn’t been hard before they started this game, he’s certainly got a hammer between his legs now. 

As he releases the lime for her, she grips it in her teeth, leaning backwards in her bra and panties, her core now on his chest, and he can’t resist reaching out with a single finger and tracing a pattern over the treasure he knows is underneath. 

“You waxed for me this year,” he comments. 

“No,” she protests, “I waxed for me this year. You give great oral, and I wanted nothing to get in the way. It’s been far too long since my pussy has been properly eaten.” 

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrow raises, as he knows a couple of people who she dated during the previous year. 

“Yep. I would say,” she smiles, leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss, her lips hovering just above his, “about exactly a year.”

“Hey…” he begins as they finish their silent dance just as their drinks arrive along with the plate of sushi, but he’s interrupted. 

“Here are your drinks. Our newest sushi roll is the Hot Lover,” which makes Harry cringe and shift again in his seat. “It’s spicy tuna, shrimp tempura, and avocado wrapped in soybean paper.” 

As he places the food in front of them, Harry smiles sadly and nods as the gentleman fades away into the restaurant, like the sunset has drifted into the ocean. 

“You were going to say something?” she asks, and he loses all of his courage. 

Shaking his head, he grasps a piece of the sushi roll between his fingers, sliding it onto his tongue. 

“Not bad,” he comments as he chews, trying to tuck the food in his cheek so he’s not rude. 

“It’s really not got a lot of flavour,” she grins as she mimics his eating habit. “Kind of boring.”

Did she mean their relationship? Was this one of those double-entendres? Swallowing the fish and rice concoction, he sips his tequila as the sushi sticks in his throat. For some reason, he wants to cry. It makes no sense, but the tears come unbidden to his eyes. Fuck. Looking away, he sips more of his drink as he watches the remnants of the sunset fade away, blinking furiously. 

“I wanted to call you when we were both in New York this year,” he comments softly. 

Her fingers pause halfway to her mouth, the soybean-paper-wrapped piece of sushi hovering near her lips. Harry watches as she debates how to respond to his comment, finally placing the fish on her tongue and chewing slowly. Unable to draw his eyes from her mouth, he unapologetically watches as she savors the restaurant’s latest speciality. Eyes closed, she moans. Her hands clutch the table on either side of her, and Harry feels his mouth go dry. 

Once she devours the food, she sips her tequila on the rocks, and he can visualize her tongue swirling the liquid around as she either tries to clear the flavour of the fish or fully taste the liquor. After all, her tongue has done that same move to his most favored body part. When she finishes, she makes eye contact with him, her hands resting on either side of her plate, fingers curled. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her fingers flat without breaking eye contact. Fuck. He’s sweating. 

“Truth be told, Harry -- I desperately wanted to call you when we were both in Edinburgh that time.”

“Why didn’t you?” His words are faster than his brain, and he immediately wishes he could draw back the question. 

“You know why,” she replies, and he nods because he does indeed know all of the reasons. “The sunset --” Her attention is drawn to the colours in the sky, “is lovely, don’t you think?”

“Honestly,” he admits, “I would say this is the best one of all of the times we’ve sat here together.” The words make him cringe. He wants to keep things light, but something about the moment prevents fluff. It feels momentous. Overwhelming. 

He watches as her eyes stray from his to the sky before they tear up and she nods in agreement. “Yes, Harry. I would say this is the most breathtaking of the sunsets we’ve seen.”

Did that mean that this would be the last one? Neither of them is getting younger. Sooner or later, one of them will meet “the one”. And then where will the other be? Stuck on an island with a sunset alone? Fuck. He doesn’t want to be that person. But he truly doesn’t want that for her either. 

“It’s a sensational sunset,” Harry pleads, his eyes not leaving her face, not straying to the glorious colours, not denying that they have some chemistry together. Why hadn’t he made a play for her before now? Was a hookup enough? Would he be happy if this is the last one? 

“Harry,” she sighs, sipping her drink again. “I wonder ---” 

The band starts a new song, and he shakes off the sound, willing her to continue. A group at the table behind them sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while another table nearby bursts into laughter and somewhere a server drops a tray of glasses, the shattering drawing applause from a few assholes close to the debacle. Harry ignores all of it. 

“Yes? Go on,” he encourages. 

“Maybe…” she bites her lip, looking away from him towards the sunset. 

“Yes?” His throat is dry, but he doesn’t reach for his tequila or his glass of ice water. Instead, his gaze remains riveted on her. 

“Do you think that perhaps we could…” 

His breath catches in his throat. What would she say? Would she ask for some random sex act? Cancel their relationship permanently? Or possibly -- miraculously -- suggest that they celebrate more sunsets together instead of just once a year. He holds his breath, waiting impatiently. 

“I mean, it would probably be best if we...” 

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers.  I appreciate the likes, but reblogs help others find the story and, quite frankly, encourage me to continue publishing here. 

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

For the kink ask - a/b/o?

I love your style and would really like to read your take on it (the pairing doesn't matter to me, though if you feel Eskel for this, I wouldn't be opposed 👀)

If it's not your thing that's of course alright too, then I'm just sending some love ❤

Thanks for the prompt, anon! 💖 I took this and ran, but I had a lot of fun with it. I have a feeling this isn’t exactly what you were thinking but I’m not personally into the a/b/o dynamics, so I messed around with it a bit and present to you: Eskel goes into heat during the full moon, when Geralt finds out he’s more than happy to get him through it. cw for dry sex, come as lube, and a whole lot of self-shame surrounding Eskel’s heat

After so many years on the path, time sort of ceases to exist. Most Witchers have some sense of time (the seasons continue to pass and their memories keep them from forgetting much) but Eskel has always been particularly fastidious about paying attention to the time of year, the time of the month. Unlike most of his brothers, he can tell you exactly how far away they are from the next full moon at any given time. When they were kids, it was an amusing trick for the other boys; they would all make guesses and whoever was the closest to Eskel's prediction would be able to hand off his chores to someone else. For them, it was a game, but for Eskel it was a necessity, knowing when the next full moon would come so he could seclude himself for the night.

No one else knows what happens to him during a full moon - if they did, they'd probably suspect some sort of lycanthropy and who knows what would happen to him then. But it's not like that. Eskel doesn't transform in the light of the full moon (although some days, he would prefer that), but suffers through unending, unquenchable lust. By the time most of the other boys were only starting to discover sexuality, Eskel had already been sneaking out of the keep at night to keep his secret from being found out.

And he got very good at it. For years, he managed to keep his secret and his sneaking around secret even from his closest friends. Which is why, a few weeks before they're supposed to be setting out on their own for the first time, Eskel is relieved. He no longer has to worry about lying or sneaking around or keeping things from his peers and advisors. Just a few more weeks and he'll be free. But, like everything in his life so far, it's not as easy as that. Two nights before he's due to leave Kaer Morhen, the moon is full.

Eskel works himself up to it, preparing his escape in advance as he does more frequently these days. The once-clumsy boys who grew up with are now strong men with proper control of their senses and escaping is not so simple as it once was. But he makes it out of the keep without any trouble. He's had to use axii on another boy more than once and he feels terrible about it even now, so getting out clean is the most favourable option. But once he gets off the grounds, he has a bigger problem facing him.

Over the years, Eskel has tried everything. At first, he tried ignoring it all night, but when that proved maddening, he'd give in to every whim but that was exhausting and painful after a couple of hours. His newest method seems to work the best: staving it off for as long as possible and then, once he's made himself come, sleep for as long as he can manage before the need creeps up on him again. It doesn't always work and a lot of the time, his own hand isn't enough to satisfy the need, but it's better than his other options.

Tonight is bad. Bad enough that he doesn't think he'll make it to the watchtower before giving in, but he grits his teeth and pushes forward. The longer he holds out, the better the night will be for him.

He makes it up to the watchtower and settles himself on the ground, leaning back against the wall with his hands clenched at his sides. His cock is already hard and aching, pressed firmly against the front of his trousers, and he refuses to look down, but he can feel the wet patch forming in the cloth.

Even after all these years, it's embarrassing to be like this. His entire life he's been trained to have control over every aspect of his body and yet, he still can't control this. His only solace is that no one has ever found out about it and he doesn't have to bear the humiliation of anyone seeing him like this.

Then, of course, that too fails. He doesn't hear the footfalls until it's too late to hide.

Eskel's breath catches and he's so overcome with terror that for a moment, he's totally numb to the need coursing through him. All he has time to do is pull his knees up before he catches a scent on the breeze.

Fuck. Geralt. Why does it have to be Geralt?

Of all the pupils and all the mentors in the keep, the very last person he wants to know about this is Geralt. As long as Eskel can remember, he's been closer to Geralt than anyone; they were friends from the day they arrived, but Eskel had grown overly fond of Geralt over the years. If there was ever anyone he might tell about his situation, it's Geralt, but Eskel's feelings for the other man get in the way every time. He doesn't anticipate anything ever happening between them, but he knows Geralt finding out would ensure nothing ever does.

A million things run through his head at once, but he knows it's already too late. If Geralt followed his scent, there's no way he could avoid noticing the arousal wound through it and Eskel knows he smells different during the moon than he does any other time. He should tell Geralt to leave him alone, tell him to turn back before he gets too close, but his voice isn't cooperating.

Feeling lost and hopeless, Eskel drops his head to his knees and grits his teeth. Having an audience isn't going to deter the feelings and he's hit by an overwhelming wave of humiliation as he imagines having to get through this while someone watches. Realistically, he knows Geralt wouldn't, that he would give him space, but he also knows that if Geralt knows something is wrong, he won't just leave him alone. Normally, it's one of the things he loves most about Geralt, his absolute devotion and protection of those he cares about, but tonight it's not working in Eskel's favour.

He's so caught up in pushing back the arousal, that Eskel doesn't realize when Geralt is sitting right in front of him. He's speaking, but Eskel can't understand through the blood rushing in his ears. It's not until Geralt touches him that Eskel's focus snaps into place and it takes all his strength to keep from shoving Geralt back against the ground.

"Go away," he rumbles and Geralt does exactly the opposite.

"What's wrong?"

"Geralt, just go." The ache is getting stronger now and Eskel is sorely tempted to rub himself off through his trousers. He thinks he could do it without Geralt catching on too quickly, but the longer he thinks about it, the stronger the feeling gets and he chokes on a moan as he shifts and his trousers rub against his sensitive cock. It's almost enough for him to come just like that, but he manages to hold back, some horrible combination of shame and disgust holding him back.

"Eskel-"

"Go," he says but his voice shakes and it's so hard to keep himself steady.

The thought of asking Geralt for help worms his way into his mind and he's so overwhelmed fighting against that and the urge to touch and the scalding humiliation burning up the back of his neck. Before Eskel can stop him, Geralt crawls forward, kneeling before Eskel.

"Tell me what you need," he breathes and Eskel is so tired of fighting. He whimpers and he doesn't want to ask for help, doesn't want to show weakness in front of another witcher, but he whines out a desperate please and Geralt doesn't hesitate.

"Let's get you out of this," he whispers, leaning in to tug Eskel's shirt up over his head. Immediately, the cold stone feels good against his back, but then Geralt is pressing between his legs and another rush of heat sears through him. "Come on, Es, let me get you out of these clothes."

Reluctantly, Eskel slips down, allowing Geralt the space he needs to tug his trousers down over his hips. He hisses as the cold air hits his cock, but there's a spike of arousal from Geralt and everything else is forgotten. Eskel reaches for him instinctively and Geralt settles next to him, pressing up against his side.

"Can I?" Geralt asks and when Eskel nods, he slides a hand down his stomach. Eskel is already thrusting up to meet him before Geralt even touches his cock. He hates himself for it, but Geralt just hums softly, winding his fingers around the base of him like it’s nothing.

Geralt barely even has to do anything because Eskel can't keep himself from thrusting up against him, grinding into the tunnel of Geralt's fist. He comes too quickly, spilling all over Geralt's hand and his own stomach and he's barely over the rush of his orgasm before the shame sets in again.

"Hey," Geralt huffs, "don't you dare." He presses right up against his side, pressing his nose into Eskel's neck. "You always helped me," he whispers, "let me help you."

Eskel's erection hasn't subsided in the slightest and he nearly cries out when Geralt touches him again. Geralt is slow and gentle and Eskel has to hold back from fucking up against him hard. It does feel better than on his own hand, but it's still not going to get him through the night; already, even the stroke of Geralt's hand is feeling less and less satisfying.

Eskel squirms under Geralt's touch, desperate for a firmer touch, for something more but he fights against it. He knows he has to slow this down because he knows how he inevitably winds up and he can't ask Geralt for that and he doesn't want Geralt seeing him do it to himself. He gets a hand around Geralt's wrist, trying to keep him from moving too quickly and when Geralt shifts, his cock presses into Eskel's hip and he's hard. Geralt squeezes around the head of Eskel's cock reflexively and that's all it takes to push Eskel over the edge again.

He throws an arm over his face, but when he comes down this time, Geralt moves his arm, looking down at him. His eyes are dark and Eskel can smell the lust rolling off of him now, but Eskel knows well enough that it's just a natural reaction. Geralt wouldn't want him in any other situation. But Geralt's chest is heaving and he looks so fucking nervous, looking anywhere but at Eskel's eyes.

"Can I-" he whispers, "I just- could I... kiss you?"

"Why?"

Geralt looks taken aback. "Because I... want to?"

Eskel opens his mouth to ask why again, but Geralt shifts to straddle his hips and he's struck dumb. He nods and Geralt leans down over him, barely brushing his lips against Eskel's before kissing him properly. Immediately, Eskel draws him closer, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck and pulling him down to him. He doesn't have the strength to hold back, pushing his tongue between Geralt's lips and rocking up against him. If Geralt is hesitant, he doesn't show it.

He presses against him, rolling his hips in low, languid motions and while Eskel is currently in favour of quick, harsh movements, he finds himself lost in the movement of Geralt's body against his own. He arches off the ground, grasps at Geralt's neck and shoulders, moaning desperately into his mouth. He's never had someone with him for this, never even considered finding his release in someone else and for the first time in years it feels good.

Geralt shoves a hand between them without breaking the kiss, shoving at his trousers until he can pull his own cock free. He shifts to align himself with Eskel, using his hand as a guide to keep them pressed together as he rocks his hips a little harder. His breath is hot against Eskel's skin and the little gasps and moans that drop from his lips are almost enough to make Eskel think he could want this too.

Then, as Eskel is arching against him, Geralt's thumb slips up under the head of his cock and Eskel comes with a shout, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead to Geralt's. He's only vaguely aware of Geralt grunting and then he collapses onto his chest.

Geralt has a hand wrapped around his side, brushing his thumb against Eskel's skin and it's the only thing that keeps him from getting up and running away immediately. Because a friendly hand is one thing but this was... more. He can hear his own pulse rise and he tries to slow it, evidently not quickly enough. Geralt nuzzles under his jaw, shushing him.

"'M not gonna go anywhere," he mumbles. "You didn't ever leave me."

Geralt shifts to the side and curls up around Eskel, running a soothing hand up his leg. It proves more than Eskel's hypersensitive body can handle and it's only a few minutes before he's hard again. He holds out as long as he can, focusing on Geralt's soft touches instead of the want coursing through him, but it's not enough to keep it at bay.

He smells more than feels when his cock leaks against his skin and he groans knowing that Geralt can smell it too.

"Fuck," Geralt mumbles, "it really is bad, isn't it?"

Eskel just groans in response but Geralt is already moving, rising to his knees again and kissing Eskel's chest. He's disgusting; sweaty and covered in dried come, but Geralt seems unconcerned as he makes his way down to the smear of pre-come above Eskel’s hip. He wraps his lips around the head of Eskel's cock and that's the end of coherent thought. All Eskel can even think about is the wet heat of Geralt's mouth around him, sucking hard and sinking down on him. He runs his fingers through Geralt's hair, gripping and tugging when his cock hits the back of Geralt's throat.

He comes startlingly quickly like this and Geralt follows almost immediately, jerking himself between Eskel's thighs.

The next hour passes in much the same way. Eskel holds out as long as he possibly can, but Geralt catches it every time. He licks and sucks and strokes and even gets his fingers into him and it's good. It's the best he's ever had if he's honest, but inevitably, it's not good enough. He's not oblivious to his body's needs, but usually fingering himself is enough to get him through the remainder of the night.

Geralt has three fingers in him and his mouth around Eskel's cock when he sighs and withdraws, sitting back up and running his hands up Eskel's thighs.

"It's not helping anymore, is it?"

Eskel groans and shakes his head, dropping it back against the ground. He stares up at the crumbled floor above him and wonders if he can hold out till morning, but Geralt is already moving. He shifts up close and he's naked now, bare skin pressed right against Eskel's and it's overwhelming and not enough. He can feel Geralt's cock against his hip and he's still hard, but Eskel doesn't have the energy to help him out. He shuts his eyes with a groan and he's contemplating sending Geralt back to the keep rather than face the alternative, but Geralt interrupts his thoughts with a kiss to his hip.

"It's okay," he whispers, "we'll figure it out."

Eskel knows they won't. He knows at this point there are only two things that will get them through the remaining hour or so until dawn. He's never tried fucking someone or letting someone fuck him, but he knows nothing else is going to work. If Geralt can't get him off, it's the only option. He can't say it though, so he just grumbles and shifts to try and get comfortable.

"I could... if you want you could fuck me?" Geralt offers.

Eskel lets out a helpless laugh. He lifts himself as well as he can manage and offers a hopeless grin at Geralt.

"I'm exhausted," he huffs, "I can barely sit up." It's not strictly a no, but it's not a yes either and he waits for Geralt's response. Geralt doesn't say anything, but he crawls up over him so he's straddling Eskel's hips.

"What if you didn't have to do anything?" Geralt takes himself in hand, stroking his cock where Eskel can't help but watch him. His own cock twitches with genuine arousal and Geralt rocks back against him.

"Geralt," Eskel chokes and Geralt just leans down over him, nuzzling into his neck.

"It's okay," he whispers, "I want to. I- I've thought about it before." That certainly catches Eskel's attention.

"What?"

"I-" Geralt ducks his head and Eskel can see just the fainted dusting of red across his cheeks. "I think about you sometimes."

"Not like this, though."

"No," Geralt admits, "but I thought about touching you."

"Yeah?" Eskel encourages. His cock twitches again and he wants to reach down and stroke himself off before the feeling goes away again, but he has a better idea. "Tell me." His hands slip up to Geralt's hips, pressing him back onto his cock and he groans as the head catches against Geralt's rim.

"Oh," Geralt groans and he sits back a little harder. It doesn't make any sense to fuck him; Eskel's already prepped and ready and he's going to ache tomorrow as it is. They don't have oil and he doesn't want to hurt him, but Geralt seems determined.

"I touched myself," Geralt breathes, "thinking about you. Imagining your hands on me, holding me, pressing me into-" he cuts himself off and his eyes snap up to Eskel's, but his scent flares hot and lusty. Pressing me into the bed. And gods, Eskel thinks, they may only have two days left, but he'll be damned if he doesn't find time to fuck Geralt into whatever surface he can find after this. Now, though, is not the time.

"I will," he promises, "I'll fuck you anywhere, any way you want me to, but you gotta do something for me first."

“Anything.”

“I need you to fuck me.”

"Eskel-"

"We don't have any oil and you already did such a damned good job of making sure I'm ready." Geralt preens at the praise and Eskel gets a hand around the back of his neck, tugging him into a slow kiss.

His whole body aches for release, but he lets himself linger, brutally aware of the time they've wasted. Geralt is the one to draw back, shifting to sit between Eskel's legs. Just the heat of his body, the way Geralt pushes his thighs apart sends shivers up his spine. That's a good sign, he thinks.

Geralt slips a finger inside him, then two, ensuring he's ready. Eskel appreciates the effort but it doesn't matter much either way. Geralt slicks his cock with the come still cooling on Eskel's chest and it's not ideal, but it makes some difference as he pushes into him. Geralt is cautious, but he keeps himself steady and the first proper thrust has Eskel's entire body lighting up.

Oh, this is what he's been missing all these years. The painful ache fades until he's left with nothing but his own want for Geralt, pure and real. He's still exhausted, but he musters up the strength to haul Geralt down against him, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him.

"Fuck," he breathes, "fuck, Geralt, you feel-" he's cut off by his own moan as Geralt thrusts sharply into him and Eskel's limbs shake. He doesn't try to talk again, but when Geralt kisses him, soft and sweet, despite the pistoning of his hips, Eskel thinks he understands anyway.

This time takes longer, but when he comes, it's with one hand around his cock and the other over Geralt's shoulder. Please, he hears and it takes a moment to realize it came from him. He doesn't plead, doesn't ask for anything during sex, but then again, nothing about this is normal. Geralt follows moments later, collapsing onto his chest and pressing soft, exhausted kisses along his collar bone. For the first time possibly ever, Eskel feels satisfied after a full moon.

Dawn finds them huddled together amongst soiled clothes and loose bits of stone. Geralt is lying almost entirely on top of him, but Eskel is warm and content. He doesn't dare move, lest his muscles scream of overuse, but there's no need to move anyway; he's through it for another cycle and, he suspects, the future will be easier. He runs his fingers through Geralt's hair with a soft smile on his face and watches in silence as the sun climbs up over the mountains.

kink prompts

[thiswasinevitableid]

57 sternclay nsfw? i can see stern complaining to a stranger that his ex complained about how weird his kinks were while dumping him

Here you go! 57: “we’re fighting over the last box of half-off valentine’s day chocolate and end up in a “who has it worse” battle.

For being in a mountain town in the slow season, the seasonal candy shelves of the Kepler Walgreens are bare. Were it 10 am on Valentines Day, Joseph would be in a panic. At 10 p.m, it feels like yet more proof this trip is utterly doomed.

But he didn’t become one of the top agents in the Department of Unexplained Phenomena by being unobservant. On the top shelf, pushed towards the back, is a bag of Reese's hearts and a bag of M&Ms. Thank you, years of training.

Being six feet tall helps too.

He’s so locked onto his target that he doesn’t notice the other person in the store until their hands smack into each other en route to the bags.

“Sorry, uh, lemme just get these and I’ll get out of your way.” A voice as deep and sweet as summer honey reaches his ears.

“I’m sorry, but I was going to buy these.” He starts pulling the bags towards him, only for the other guy to grab them. Joseph glares; the man trying to relieve him of his last solace looks like the kind of lumberjack you see in recordings titled things, “Log Pounders IV” or “Bear Hunting.”

“Look, buddy, I really need these so can you, like, find some other bags?”

“These are the last two. And I guarantee I need them more.” As long as he keeps a pleasant voice and gives no ground, this should go smoothly.

“Unless you got dumped this month, I don’t think you do.”

“I got dumped seven hours ago.” He says through an increasingly tight-lipped smile.

“At least your ex isn’t tagging you in a bunch of photos bragging about his new boyfriend.”

“He can’t, because he probably only just got back to his apartment in the rental car. The one I’m now stranded here without.”

“Pfft, just call an Uber or something.”

“It’ll cost several hundred dollars to get home!”

“You look like you can afford it.” Brown eyes flick from his hair down to his shoes, “some of us have to use half-price candy to soothe our wounds. You’re probably staying at the kind of fancy B&B where they have complimentary booze.”

“I would be, except their was a fuck-up with the reservation. Which my ex took as proof this was time to end things, and is the reason I’m dragging this all over town.” He kicks his ergonomically designed, rolling suitcase hard enough that it bumps into his adversary.

“Better he gave you some bullshit reason than the truth, which mine was all too happy to tell me. You can have these when someone you tried to make happy tells you he thinks you’re ‘too soft’ and that if only you’d manned up he woulda stayed, whatever the fuck that even means.”

Goddamnit, Joseph is not about to lose this argument--and his candy--on top of everything else.

“I’ll trade you that for being told you’re: too exacting, far more uncool than your job implies, too anxious, too invested in your work, that your whole personality is flawed and, just for extra fun, that your kinks are too weird and no one in their right mind would ever want to sleep with you if they knew them ahead of time.”

The other man’s hold on the bags loosens. Then it returns, stronger than before, as he grumbles, “Please, no one’s kinks are that weird.”

“You have no idea what mine are.”

“Then how about you give me a demonstration, huh?” Lumberjack snaps.

Joseph's common sense finally catches up with his thirst for comfort and, apparently, conflict.

“I, I’m sorry, did you just offer to fuck me in the middle of a fight over discount candy?”

“I....” the man lets go of the bags, chuckles, “yeah, I did. Fuck, I’m sorry, it’s been such a shitty day that my mouth decided it was gonna do whatever it took to stay in that fight.”

Joseph laughs a little, slumping against the shelf, “I guess it’s nice to know I’m not the only person in town whose Valentine’s Day didn’t go to plan.”

“No kidding. Though, uh, I didn’t get dumped this month. It was three months ago. He did tag me in all those photos today though.”

“That’s so rude.”

“Not as rude as leaving your boyfriend stranded in the mountains.”

B-grade pop hits fill the awkward silence between them.

“I, uh, this might be way outta line, but I got an idea; if you buy the candy, I can take us back to my place and bake something with it. That way we can both enjoy it, and you won’t be stuck wandering around in the cold.”

He runs a quick is-this-a-serial-killer scan of the man in front of him.

“Sure. But just so you know, I’m opening the Reeses in the car.”

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

“Feeling better?” Barclay, his host, wipes stray cupcake crumbs from his lips.

“Much.” He polishes off his second coffee-cocoa cupcake with M&Ms in the batter, lifts his coffee cup, “this place is lucky to have you.”

Barclay blushes the same way he has every time Joseph compliments his cooking, home, or taste in books. They’ve spent the last ninety minutes in the kitchen of Barclay’s small, A-Frame cabin, one of eight laid out in a half circle behind Amnesty Lodge. The cook explained that the cabins were for staff or long term residents, and that while the Lodge sometimes had vacancies, this week had seen them swamped.

The rain alternates between pleasant pitter-pats and drops that could kill a small bird, so Joseph is incredibly grateful to Barclay for giving him a place to shelter. When he thanks him, the cook shrugs with a little smile, “you shouldn’t leave nice things out in the rain.”

As they’re cleaning up the dishes, Barclay passes him a plate and says, “You can stay here tonight. If, uh, if you want. The couch isn’t much, but it’s dry and I’ve got a bunch of spare blankets.”

“That’d be great, thank you. And, um, thank you for being so nice to me, given how we met.”

“Eh, no one who’s in a Walgreens after ten is in a good mood. And, uh, it’s nice to have someone to talk with. I’m kinda the quiet one of my friends, and work is mostly calling orders and stuff.” He pulls the coffee pot from the heat, “can I top you off?”

“Yes, please.” His caffeine tolerance is so high a few cups late at night doesn’t mess with his sleep. Barclay is sticking with tea, something scented like cardamon and comfort.

They move to the couch that’s clearly been re-covered a dozen times, Barclay only getting up to turn on some music; delta blues, if Joseph’s ear is right. It’s not until the clock strikes one thirty that Joseph notices they’re sitting so close that their knees bump whenever one of them turns to talk.

“Okay, I gotta ask” Barclay’s brown eyes shine sweet and playful, “what exactly was so weird about your kinks that your dickhead ex went out of his way to mention them?”

He thinks a moment, scanning his body and noticing he’s more relaxed than he’s been in weeks, including all the times he spent with his ex. Something about the faint scent of dish-soap on Barclays hands, the gentle smile that makes Joseph certain that--for all his bulk--if Joseph told him to roll over and show his belly, he’d do it in an instant, the way he doesn’t rolls his eyes or shy away when Joseph talks, all of that makes him calm. Which makes him bold.

“Wait right here.” He hops up, grabs his bag from the door and pulls it over to the rug by the couch. All he has to do to reveal his secret is lift his pajamas.

“Holy fuck.” Barclay leans forward, “you really came prepared.”

“It was supposed to be a romantic getaway. I...we’d never used any of this together, but I hoped we might this time. It’s, it’s not his fault, I know my tastes aren’t for everyone, and we had plenty in common in bed. But he went through this whole thing where he said we should share our deepest fantasies. Apparently wanting to be choked is fine, but wanting to fuck Mothman is not.”

“That’s what this one is.” Barclay picks up one of the two dildos, black with lots of swirling ridges.

“That’s actually my dragon one. Um.” he holds up the ovipositor toy, “this one is supposed to be mothman.”

Barclay squishes one of the silicone eggs, “that feels kinda nice. What else did you bring?”

His genuine interest is not helping Joseph keep his hopes under control.

“The other toy is the ‘bigfoot’ model. And this is, um, this is my newest one, I was so excited I pre-ordered it. It acts like a cock-sleeve, but this part here is supposed to mimic a, um, a knot.”

“Like the idea of getting knotted, babe?” The cook’s voice is a little deeper than when he last spoke, and rather than pulling away he’s inching into Joseph’s space.

“Yes. I, um, I’m getting the sense” he shifts so his hands are on Barclay’s knees, “that we might have something in common besides our taste in leftover candy.”

“I packed all this so carefully” he brushes their lips together, “it’d be a shame to let it sit unused.”

Barclay scoops him into a kiss, growling happily when Joseph instantly parts his lips. His beard is soft and tickly under Joseph’s palms, and his mind takes the thought of getting beard-burn on his thighs and runs so far with it that he almost misses what Barclay says next.

“In that case, you better decide if you want me to open your ass up so I can fuck you with a knot, or if you wanna do it yourself.”

“I prefer to do it myself.”

A second kiss, a bit gentler this time, “bedroom’s at the end of the hall. Get naked and wait for me there?”

“Roger that, big guy.”

When Barclay growls this time it’s rougher, jumping out of his chest and seeming to surprise him.

Joseph undresses as Barclay stops off in the bathroom, rifling through the medicine cabinet while Joseph folds his clothes. He’s down to his boxers when he remembers there is a conversation he needed to have before it hit this point.

“You trying to get me to rip those off with my teeth?” Barclay grins as he sets some condoms and lube on the bed and starts taking off his pants.

“I, um, there’s something you should be aware of. We don’t have the same, um, set-up.”

Barclay furrows his brow, gets his meaning, then nods, “no problem. If you’re okay with that part of you being involved I, uh, I just got a really, really good idea for what to do.”

“It’s not always the case, but tonight I definitely want it involved. I want you inside me as many ways as possible.”

“Fuck yeah.” Barclay tosses his shirt into the laundry, “get your ass open enough to take that knot.”

He slips the condom on, douses it with lube, and presses the first finger in, discovering that he's unable to stop complimenting Barclay for even five seconds while he finishes disrobing. The flush under his dark chest hair is unendingly charming, as is the little whine he makes at Joseph telling him he likes how big he is.

“I, I’m serious, ahhn, it’s rare to find someone taller than me and I really like it.”

“Feeds into the monster thing?” Barclay crawls beside him, laying down so he can kiss him as he works the second finger in.

“In a way.”

A deep, rumbly chuckle that has Joseph fucking himself hurriedly, “Don’t be coy, babe. You like the thought of something big and hairy getting a hold of you and not letting you go until you’re dripping cum.”

“Holy shit, yes” he gets the third finger in, sighing as Barclay nuzzles his neck.

“Well, I’m not bigfoot, but I’m betting I’ll do just fine.”

“More than fine.” Joseph kisses him, feels him smile in a way that melts his heart like cheap chocolate.

“Got some other theories about you, babe, but you gotta wait until you’re on my dick to hear ‘em.” Barclay sits up, stroking his cock in time with Joseph’s hand, “fucking-A, can’t believe your ex didn’t wanna stick around for this. You look like a fucking porn star; we oughta record you getting fucked in your suit and sell if for big bucks.”

He moans, pulling his fingers free, “Fuck me now. Please.”

“Fuck that’s hot.” Barclay works the sleeve down over his cock, sits up against the wall, “come sit in my lap, facing away.”

Joseph straddles him, gasps when the head of his cock presses in. He prepped well, but all the same he has to take his time wiggling his way down. Barclay caresses him, grunting and whimpering whenever he moves, breath prickling the hairs at the base of his neck. It’s heavenly.

When he hits the knot, Barclay rubs more lube on it, but it stays outside of him as he grinds on it. Between moans, the cook manages to say, “want me to start the next part?”

“Yes, please.”

Barclay loads the ovipositor with the three eggs, praises Joseph for being a good boy when he spreads his legs to accommodate the head of the toy.

“I, I thought you had more you were going to tell me?” He tilts his head awkwardly to kiss Barclay’s shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Barclay slowly works the toy in and out, doing his best to sync it to the rolls of his hips, “I think you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t just want one monster; you want ‘em all.”

“Variety is, ohgod, part of a healthy sex life.”

“I don’t mean one monster on one day and a different one on another. I think you want them all at once.”

“Oh yes, oh! Ohohoh” he kicks his legs as the first egg pushes in, “fuck, Barclay, please keep going.”

“Whatever you want, babe.” He nuzzles Joseph’s hair, “that’s how I came up with this plan; seeing all those different dicks made me think you’d, fuck, you’d like me to pretend there was more than just me fucking you.”

Joseph nods, clinging to Barclays arm and bearing down on the knot.

“Can just see it now; you got yourself lost in the woods out here, go looking for help only to find a whole bunch of monsters waiting for you. Spend the rest of the night pressed into the dirt and leaves while every cryptid from, fuck” he bucks his hips, “from here to Canada had their turn.”

“Shit, shit” the knot starts pushing in, “y-you’ve got my number, big guy.”

“Yeah?” Barclay squeezes the base of the toy as he talks, causing the remaining two eggs to push their way in, Joseph’s body clenching around them, “you want a night where all your good for is being fucked, where if you beg for a break you get a bigfoot fucking your throat and werewolves cumming on your chest instead of them all mobbing you at once?”

“Shit, yes, YESohfuck” the knot enters him as Barclay shoves his hips down, “ohmygod that’s good, fuck, I feel so full, you’re so smart, this was genius, fuck you know how to treat meAHannnfuck, shit.” He holds on to Barclays arm’s as the other man fucks him with abandon.

“Oh I know, babe. Know I was fucking right. You wanna be claimed, wanna be owned, wanna be bred by a whole fuckin pack-”

“Jesuschrist” it’s hard to breathe at the pace Barclay sets, his body aching to cum but not quite able to get there. He squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing frantically at his dick as Barclay loses himself in the fantasy.

“You’d be so cute, leaves in your hair and cum on your chin, taking it all and begging for more. Good thing you’re so needy, you could tear a pack apart with folks fighting over who gets to fuck you, fuck, Joseph, baby, you’re so fucking good, gonna be so fucking good to you, fuck, fuck” he shoves as deep as he can while he cums, and in the haze of pleasure Joseph swears claws prick the skin of his chest. Just the thought of that sends his own orgasm coursing through him, his body tensing and twisting on Barclay’s cock, making them both moan from sudden overstimulation.

“S-sorry” Barclay pants.

“Nothing to apologize for, just physiology, here, let me ow, ow, okay maybe I should have relaxed more first.” He’s free of both toys, but that was right on the edge of too painful. He waits for Barclay to take off the sleeve, then rolls the bigger man so his head is on his chest.

“Your ex didn’t know how good they had it.”

“Thanks, babe.”

He smiles, “I like that. No one ever calls me something that informal.”

“Call you it whenever you want. Babe.” Barclay kisses his arm, “you can, uh, stay in bed if you want. We don’t have a ton of time together so I’d, uh, well, I’d like to spend as much of it with you as I can.”

For the first time, Joseph wishes his vacation would last longer.

“Agreed, big guy.”

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

“You said you had my new assignment, sir?”

“Yes. Agent Stern, you will be going to the town of Kepler to investigate the events described in this file.” Agent Hayes passses him the folder.

“Understood, sir.”

Joseph manages to keep his smile to himself all the way to his desk.

[twdeadlysins]

Don’t Listen

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader 

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: The Governor wants information and will do whatever it takes to get it from you and Daryl. // Set during Season 3

Request: Could I request a Daryl x Reader with the prompt “How come she loves you?” Where basically the Governor has captured them both at some point during season 3 and is trying to get them both to talk. Daryl and the reader can each hear what is happening to the other, and the Governor tries some emotional manipulation by saying the prompt. Then Rick&Co come to rescue them and they have a tearful reunion. If you decide to write this thank you! Your fanfics are the best ❤❤  // @harpersmariano

Warnings: angst, fluff, abuse (physically + mentally), the usual walking dead themes, and possible typos by yours truly 

A/N: I apologize for the wait! I changed this fic SOOO many times because there were so many routes I could take with it. 

The gifs I use aren’t mine, so all credit goes to their respective owners.

MASTERLIST

The constant shouts, grunts, and the deafening sound of fists colliding with skin made you viciously thrash against your restraints. The rope that bound your wrists was harshly rubbing against your sweaty skin as you used all your strength to lift them, hoping to somehow break free. 

It was useless, you were very aware. 

There was no way you could tear the material just by tugging on it, but you refused to sit there and do nothing while Daryl was relentlessly getting beat on for information.

You and the hunter were on a supply run specifically looking for baby formula for the newest addition to the group, while also keeping an eye out for anything else that could be useful. After you had walked out the store with what you needed and some other necessities, you were met with a gun and a familiar face.  

Merle Dixon. 

The presumed dead redneck had grabbed you and placed the weapon to the side of your temple before Daryl stepped out the door, having no choice but to abide by his brother’s commands. 

You arrived at a town and were discreetly guided to a building where they separated you from your lover. The wall was super thin, so you heard every sound that was emitted from the room. You’d bet that you could hear a pin drop from where you were seated. 

Silence. 

The methods of getting information were no more, which left you confused as you halted your struggle. Were you supposed to feel relieved or worried? Did they leave and give Daryl a break or did they end it and kill him? 

Before you could ask if he was okay, there was sudden noise of someone fiddling with the door knob to unlock it. Your head whipped to the sound that was once trained on the wall beside you, waiting with an anxious, but curious gaze as to who would step through. The numerous failed attempts of breaking free, and the unknown of who was behind the door and what would happen to you made your chest heave, replacing air faster than the punches that were thrown in the other room. 

When the door swiftly opened, your blood began to boil, orbs filling with rage that replaced your anxiety. The amount of hatred that spilled from you prompted you to clench your teeth, refraining yourself from snarling at the man that strided in the room with pride and a smile plastered on his face. 

He pulled a wooden chair out with the back facing you, situating himself before he nonchalantly rested his forearms on the top. 

“Got yer panties in a bunch, sweetheart?” 

“Shut up, Merle.” 

You had no patience for his bullshit and since he was in such a fantastic mood, you assumed Daryl was alright. Despite Merle letting them torment his brother, he would be devastated if he was hurt beyond return. 

His features crinkled with amusement as a chuckle rumbled through him, which earned you to scoff and roll your eyes, not finding anything humorous. 

“Yer a feisty one, can’t believe my baby brother got a fine piece of ass like yerself.” He laughed once again, making you furrow your brows as a question swirled in your head, despite wanting to drop kick him for that comment.  

“Speakin’ of your brother, why are you letting them do this to him? Thought you were supposed to protect him? You're his big brother.” 

His smirk morphed into confidence. “M’baby brother tough, but he’ll eventually cave. Always does. We were plannin’ on robbin’ the group blind and leavin’ before y’all even knew what hit ya. But y’all left me on that roof before we could, leavin’ me to do this.” Merle lifted his arm, presenting the creation that was made to replace his hand. “So I doubt it’ll take long for him to rat where yer keepin’ each other warm at night,” he said through a smile.  

He was alive, that was your confirmation. You didn’t care about their plan, it wasn’t news to you. Daryl had admitted their intention with the group to you during the winter months when you had to travel to different places to find shelter.  

Your head tilted as you hummed in disagreement. “Don’t think so. Daryl isn’t the quiet, obedient follower you knew — that you turned him into. He’s helpful, reliable, strong, smart, a leader, and much more, but most importantly he’s himself — something he masked to please you.” 

Before the older Dixon could retort, a muffled cough came from the other room followed by a voice. The voice of his torturer. He was elated that Daryl was finally awake and ready to resume their previous activities, except physical torture wasn’t on the agenda anymore it seemed. 

“So you and — what’s her name?”

Nothing. 

You could only imagine Daryl’s reaction. He was very protective over you, so you knew he was clamping his jaw shut — trying his hardest not to give in.

“Ah! Y/N, that’s it. You and her a couple?” 

It fell quiet once again, which only encouraged the man to push further. 

“Gotta speak up, Daryl,” his voice boomed. “Cause I’m gonna take your silence as a no and walk in that room. Show her who a real man is.” His voice was taunting and whispery towards the end, making you assume he moved to speak behind the archer, right next to his ear. 

“Don’ ya touch her,” Daryl grunted and you heard the chair scrape against the floor.

You were his weakness and it was a conflicting feeling.

He wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, he would do anything to protect you — he loved you. Daryl didn’t have to say those three words for you to know, he easily did it by his actions or with different words like the ones he just spoke. 

But if the wrong people knew, you were in a great deal of trouble like you were in now. 

The man in charge was going to use your relationship to his advantage, to get what he wanted. Although you didn’t want him to know where your family was, you also didn’t want Daryl to get hurt anymore than he already had — but you’d have to cooperate for that to happen. 

“Just gimme what I want n’ I won’t touch a hair on her pretty lil’ head.” 

You closed your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t reveal the location. Although you had faith in Daryl that he wouldn’t utter a word, there was a chance he would confess so nothing was inflicted upon you. If the roles were reversed, you would do the same, so you didn’t blame him one bit.

When his offer didn’t receive an answer, you let go the breath you were holding and slowly opened your eyes, giving Merle a side-eye when he tsked and shook his head that his brother still wasn’t giving in. 

Before you could make a snide comment towards the one-handed man, you heard the leader tell Daryl that he had enough, he wasn’t going to wait anymore — that he was going to pay you a visit. That had finally gotten a rise out of your boyfriend, he was yelling and violently twisting in his seat, spilling threats. 

“It’s okay, Daryl!” You had screamed over his protests and brutal promises, you couldn’t let him cave because it was your turn. He was strong, he took the physical pain while you dealt with it mentally and emotionally. The roles were going to be flipped, but it didn’t matter, you still weren’t going to say anything.

“Don’t give in, don’t give in for me, please,” you begged, not getting an answer — just silence. It was better that way, he wasn’t stopping it — wasn’t offering his compliance to the leader. 

Merle stood up and turned the chair around to face you before opening the door, finally revealing the face behind the voice that hurt the man you loved. The older Dixon left, leaving you alone and for once in your life, you wanted Merle to stay. 

The man in charge introduced himself as the Governor while he slowly stepped to take a seat in front of you, acting as if he didn’t just come out of the room Daryl was in — the room that he beat and taunted him in. 

Before the so called Governor could continue, you interrupted him, tired of the long game. “I don’t care what you have to say. I’m not going to tell you jackshit, so go ahead and do whatever you gotta do to me.” 

He chuckled with his arms crossed, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Is that what you want?” He curiously asked, getting up and squatting down to your eye level with a smirk still etched on his face.

Smiling sadistically, you leaned forward as much as you could, mere inches from his face. “Can’t let my boyfriend get all the fun, now can I?”

Of course you didn’t want to get tortured, but you weren’t going to let him think he had all the power — he wasn’t going to get anything from hurting you. You were scared, but you weren’t going to show him — you were going to mask it. 

It went on for what felt like hours. The Governor had punched, slapped, and cut while he berated you, your group, your relationship, and Daryl. In the beginning you retorted back to him, but the energy you once had dwindled. 

After a few good hits, blood filled your mouth, making you choke on your own words despite the amount of times you had spit it out. You had heard Daryl shout for him to stop, but your torturer paid no mind to him. His pleas were soon drowned out by the thumping in your ears and the Governor screaming that you were nothing, that the group was better off and weren’t looking for you. 

The Governor stumbled back as he tried to regain his breath, leaving you on the ground still tied to the chair. Once you weakly turned your head to the side to get rid of the liquid that collected in your mouth, you let out a laugh. “Is… is that all you got?” 

He let out a grunt before heading out the door. 

“Nope, I got somethin’ else.” 

You heard the door to the other room open followed by a chuckle. 

“Y/N is something else, I’ll tell you. What I don’t get is why she’s with someone like you?” 

“Shut up,” you muttered under your breath. 

“How come she loves you?” The Governor questioned. “She got tortured ‘cause of you — ‘cause you wouldn’t comply.”

“Shut up!” you weakly defended before coughing up more blood. 

“Something so simple and you couldn’t do it to spare her the pain! It’s all your fault, so why does she love you? Someone who let this happen to her? Someone who’s weak and not worth a damn of her time!” He screamed, getting louder with each sentence he spoke. 

“Don’t listen! Don’t listen to him, Daryl! This isn’t your fault!”

“You’re weak — you’re a coward — you don’t deserve her or the blood she’s spilled for you! Why does she love you, huh?” 

What you didn’t expect was Daryl’s response. 

“I don’ know why!”  

You froze at his answer, not understanding why he would say something like that. Did he really believe that he wasn’t worthy of your love? That he wasn’t good enough? 

Your heart shattered at the insecurities he held. 

“Merle,” you heard the Governor say before silence followed.

Next thing you knew, the older Dixon entered and paused, taking in your state before picking up your chair. He sliced your restraints and gently grabbed onto your arm, dragging you out the room.   

Another door opened and you caught a glimpse of Daryl at the end of a long table. He was tied to a chair with fresh tears streaming down his battered face, he looked so tired and worn, your heart ached at the sight — the same for him seeing what The Governor had done to you. 

Unknownst to you, the Governor gave Merle a look and the redneck reluctantly pushed you onto your knees, making you fumble, but you never tore your eyes off of Daryl. The Governor told Merle to leave as a gun was cocked and you didn’t have to take a peek to know that the weapon was pointed down at your head. 

“No!” Daryl cried out, wide-eyed at the scene in front of him. 

“Tell me where you and your group are staying at or I’ll blow her brains out,” he threatened. 

The hunter slowly connected his teary orbs with yours.

“Don’t tell him. It’s okay,” you put on a smile, despite the tears that wanted to spill. “I love you, Daryl. Don’t you ever forget that.” 

You closed your eyes, waiting for the bastard to pull the trigger, but Daryl hurriedly shouted out the location. 

You let out a breath and cried, trying to muffle your sobs with your hand. 

You weren’t mad at Daryl or disappointed, you would’ve done the same if a gun was pointed at his head. All you felt was relief. Death was far from what you wanted, but if that was the outcome to protect Daryl and the group — so be it.  

“The prison? That place is overrun. How’d you manage to clear that place out? How many people are in your group?” The Governor asked in bewilderment. 

“Eleven,” Daryl replied, not skipping a beat.  

The Governor was amused by that number, not believing eleven people cleared the prison to be suitable to live in. He removed the gun aimed at your head, switching on the safety before placing it back in his holster. 

“Kill them both and don’t tell Merle,” you heard him order someone when he opened the door. 

Although your body screamed at you not to, you pushed yourself up and sprinted towards Daryl, throwing your arms around his neck to clutch onto him. Your fingers were carded in his hair as he buried his face into the spot between your neck and shoulder, apologizing to you over and over again. 

You withdrew and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you with his guilt-ridden eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me? You’re the strongest, bravest person I know and I’m lucky to call you mine. I love you,” you assured him before pressing your lips to his. 

Once you rested your forehead on his, a hand snaked around your waist and vigorously pulled you back, making you shout in denial. 

“Let me go!” 

You thrashed against the man that held you while another man cut Daryl free to take him too, but the hunter was quick and punched the guy in the face. 

The man that had you in his grasp hesitated, conflicted on whether he should help with Daryl or continue taking you. You used the opportunity to elbow him in the stomach before grabbing his arm, twisting it back and kicking his leg so he would kneel down. 

Before you knew it, two more men with guns came into the room and pointed it at you, forcing you to let go of the advantage you both had. 

They compelled both of you to your knees next to each other and that was when you knew that you were done for. 

That this was it.

“I love ya,” Daryl whispered and you both instinctively laced your hands together before your vision of each other was blocked by a bag going over your head.

The grip he had on your hand was strong, but eventually they pried your hands apart and you whimpered, instantly missing his touch. Despite the life-threatening predicament you were in, you felt safe by the hunter’s side. Not being able to see him or feel his warmth stripped that security away as they began tying your hands together. 

You could hear Daryl grunt and struggle, not making it easy on your captors as someone guided you forward and you assumed out of the room before something loud went off, making everyone halt their movements and panic. You yanked the bag off your head to see smoke and — Rick?

He grabbed your bounded hands and cut them before quickly taking you out onto the street, sneaking down it with the others close behind to an empty building. 

Once you entered the vacant building, your legs gave out, causing you to make contact with the floor. Daryl was by your side in a matter of seconds, checking you out and making sure you were okay. 

The look on his face made you caress his cheek, his eyes held guilt, so you shook your head, silently communicating with him. It caused him to divert his orbs to Rick who was trying to come up with a plan as he cautiously looked out the window. 

The events of what happened and what could’ve been caught up with you as you stared at Daryl. You choked back a sob at the thought of losing him mere moments ago and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your head in his neck. 

He wasted no time in securing one arm around your waist and the other to cradle the back of your head. He soothed circles on your back and pressed a lingering kiss on the side of your temple while Rick and the others decided on what to do next.  

You both almost met death and the last thing you wanted to do was to let go of the love of your life, but that was what motivated you to push forward. 

To live and fight for not only yourself, but for Daryl and your family so you would never have to let go. 

TAGLIST:  @jodiereedus22​ @sourwolf-sterek32​ @haleypearce​ @gruffle1​ @lonewolf471​ @dashesoflipstick​ @aristocracy-y​ @harpersmariano​ @maydayfigment​ @yes-sir-hotchner

[mkw-raider]

Lemon Cake

AO3

Marinette/Chloé pre-relationship christmas bonding

Christmas One Shot Two days before Christmas, Queen Bee noticed Paris was buzzing with energy.

Shops were beginning to close for the night, satisfied customers drifting out into the street as workers cleaned and got ready to go home. Cars were beginning to leave the streets, heading away from the shops and cafes, finally going home. A thin layer of snow had stuck to the ground, and as the night had gotten darker, more snow had begun to fall from the sky above.

Paris was never truly a silent city, but the snow was offering a thin blanket, making the night peaceful even as a group of teens ran yelling and laughing around a street corner, snowballs flying towards the duo in the lead. The group scattered couples and families walking in front of them, but no anger came about. The Holiday season had given the citizens kindness and patience missing from the rest of the year. There hadn’t even been an akuma in the past week, making patrol a very quiet affair. This was of course likely to change at any time, especially on Christmas Eve or Christmas itself, not everyone had a loving family to return to, but for now there was peace.

Eyes drifting from person to person, a hero watched the city of lights begin to glow illuminating the people they could see. A tall man pulling a small child and gift bags behind him in a sled. A mother, wrangling four kids as they tussle with the snow and each other. A young couple slowing every few feet to share a kiss.

If the citizens of Paris lifted their gaze from their phones or last minute presents towards the Eiffel Tower, they might be able to see a splash of yellow above the upper floor. Parisians with keen eyes might even be able to determine the splash of yellow to be the newest member of Team Miraculous, Queen Bee, wrapped in a yellow blanket.

A few hundred metres up, Queen Bee was observing the chilly winter evening in silence. Focusing on the citizens wandering between shops, she was people watching. Watching the citizens she helps protect buy the last of the food they would need for the coming Holiday dinners, the families rushing home to be together, seeing how many people had places to be.

Queen Bee didn’t have anywhere to be tonight. Technically, Chloé Bourgeois needed to be back in time for an early breakfast with her father. While Chloé had plans for the next few days, including a brief morning with her father, they would spend the rest of Christmas Eve appearing at events designed to give the Mayor good press and show how invested he was in the community. For now though, Chloé had no obligations, and until she needed to sleep, observing citizens from above is where she would stay.

The blanket she had wrapped herself in had slid down her shoulders, and as the next winter chill blew by, Chloé brought the warm blanket tighter around her body. She remembered when she had first gotten the blanket. Long after her first attempts at being a hero, but before she had been given a second chance, Chloé had realized she wasn’t the nicest person. No one had been willing to believe her, except for Adrien and, shockingly enough, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Chloé had apologized and done what she could, but it had been Marinette who had convinced people to give her a chance, and it had been Marinette who had included her in the class secret Santa, giving her the handmade blanket.

Though Chloé would admit it only to Adrien and Sabrina, the blanket had made its home on her bed for the entirety of the past year, only moving when Chloé was cold on her balcony, or moments like now, where she wasn’t on patrol but had picked a building high enough she could feel the chill through her suit.

Though the sun had set an hour ago, Chloé could still see families out together. She could see a father and son in a nearby park, using the few inches of snow that had stuck to toss snowballs at each other. From this distance she couldn’t hear anything, she was left to wonder what they were talking about. Maybe they were laughing together, enjoying the company of family, or maybe the father was complimenting the son’s throws, offering advice on where to improve, but still acknowledging his son’s accomplishments. Chloé didn’t think either of her parents had ever taken her to a park. She also couldn’t remember the last time she had gone somewhere with them with the intention to have fun together. As the son threw another snowball, hitting his father in the chest, she watched as the man ran to scoop up his child and throw him in the air. Come to think of it, Chloé couldn’t remember the last time her parents had ever seemed so happy with something she’d done.

A soft crunch behind her had Chloé jerking around while grabbing her trompo, only to see Ladybug standing across from her, two boxes in hand. “It isn’t your patrol tonight, Bee.”

Heart beginning to calm from her small scare, Chloé snorted, “You’re one to talk. It isn’t your patrol either.”

Ladybug came over to sit next to Chloé, and even though Ladybug had a hat and scarf to keep her warm, Chloé opened the blanket as a silent invitation. Setting the boxes on her other side, Ladybug took the blanket and slid closer to Chloé, wrapping the two of them in a little cocoon of warmth.

“A little fox might have told me she had seen a lonely bee up here, and I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Chloé doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so she doesn’t, instead saving that sentence to a little area in her brain for nice things Ladybug has said. She does things like that sometimes. Just says things that Chloé thinks about for weeks to come, like she was thinking of Queen Bee, or she missed her, or she didn’t want her to be alone. Before Chloé had officially joined the team, she had never known this side of Ladybug, only ever seeing the leader and strategist keeping everyone in line. Then everything shifted and Chloé learned that Ladybug cares so much about all of them, about Chat never really wanting to go home, and Rena and Carapace both having to rush off suddenly, Ladybug makes note of it all, the things that go unnoticed by others, and supports them. And then when Chloé least expects it, Ladybug will say something like she’s never meant anything more, and Chloé will think about that moment until it happens again.

She knows if she lets herself, she could spend hours just staring at Ladybug, tracing the line of her jaw, memorizing her lips, learning everything she can, so Chloé forces herself to find the father and son from before. They’ve migrated away from where Chloé had last left them, but they’re still playing together. The son is bringing armful after armful of snow to the father, who squats patiently and rolls snowball after snowball adding to the growing pile next to him. She wonders if this is something that happens often for the family.

Darting her eyes to check on Ladybug, Chloé freezes as their eyes meet for a moment, before Chloé jerks her attention back to the family to hide her blush from Ladybug.

“They’re a cute family, don’t you think?” Ladybug says before resting her head on Chloé’s shoulder.

Chloé thinks she nearly chokes as she manages to get her brain to focus, “Yeah, yup. Cute family.”

Willing herself to relax, Chloé tries not to jostle Ladybug, wanting her to be as comfortable as possible while they resume watching the park below.

What feels like an eternity later, but Chloé knows can really have only been ten minutes, Ladybug stretches herself off and away from Chloé’s shoulder, letting the blanket drop.

Smiling, Ladybug pushes herself into a squat, keeping her mostly on Chloé’s level as she says, “I’ve got to go. Have a good night and stay safe, Bee.” Ladybug moves forward and kisses Chloé’s cheek before pulling away quick enough that Chloé isn’t entirely sure it was real.

A mere moment later and Ladybug jumps off the tower, leaving Chloé alone with her thoughts again. Her cheek, and the side Ladybug had been pressed into, are warm. A reminder of their time together and the closeness Chloé had been allowed to experience.

Ladybug probably had the right idea, heading home. Chloé would follow and leave herself in a few more minutes she just wanted to breathe the air in a little longer. Enjoy the Christmas peace before her next few days became a media spectacle for her father’s Christmas plans.

A smile slid itself across her face as she thought of the feel of Ladybug’s lips against her cheek and she dropped her eyes back to the park. The father and son were still there, but they were both completely covered in snow now. A few remaining snowballs were being flung between them but their stockpile had dwindled and they seemed slower than they were earlier. As she watched, another man approached the pair, holding a bag and what looked to be three drinks. As the group came together, the two men shared a kiss, before the drinks were passed out and the family began to leave the park.

Chloé brought her legs up from where they had been dangling. Swinging them back onto the platform, she nearly knocked over both of the boxes Ladybug had been carrying earlier. There was a slightly smaller navy box on top of a yellow box, and Chloé could recognize the gold lettering signifying the navy box was from Tom and Sabine’s bakery. There was a note on top that simply said ‘Bee’ with Ladybug’s symbol scrawled in the corner. Chloé decided to open that one first.

Delicately lifting the lid, Chloé found a slice of lemon cake resting inside. There was a bamboo fork inside as well, which made Chloé smile. Marinette had been very vocally trying to convince her parents to make the switch from plastic to something more reusable, and she kept a stockpile on hand to fill orders for friends or people who requested it.

Chloé closed the lid and moved towards the other box. Wrapped in simple yellow paper, there was another note on the top, though this one had ‘Chloé’ written instead. Tearing through the paper, Chloé opened the plain box inside to reveal a soft looking yellow knit cap. There was another note inside, clearly written by Ladybug. On the note was just a few sentences, ‘I know you’ve been looking for a hat, so I took care of it. I hope you like it, because I know it’s going to look amazing on you.’

There had been a heart scrawled on the bottom of the note, that Chloé had blushed at as soon as she noticed. 

Packing her cake box, into the larger box, Chloé collected her things and slid the hat onto her head. Christmas wasn’t always the easiest season for her, but Ladybug and her friends had been supporting her through the last few Christmases, making everything just a little easier on her. Now she had a treat for later, something to keep her head warm, and thanks to Marinette’s gift earlier in the week, matching yellow gloves to warm her hands as well.

Smiling out towards her city, Chloé jumped from the Eiffel Tower, yelling “Merry Christmas, Paris!” as she fell.

[everything-person]

Coming Out to Dinner

A/N: HAPPY THANKSGIVING! Okay so this maybe a little late but in my defense my parents are divorced so I had second Thanksgiving today with my mom. This plot has been in my head for a while and it just felt appropriate to make it a Thanksgiving fic. Hopefully even if you don’t celebrate the holiday you can still enjoy this fic.

Summary: It’s November in Storybrooke Thanksgiving just around the corner. The Swan-Jones family is celebrating in a special way this year. (takes place after season 7)

🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃

“What are we doing for Thanksgiving next week,” Hope asked as munched on a waffle on morning.

Killian looked up at his wife waiting to hear the answer as well. He still didn’t really understand the holiday or why they celebrated it even after all these years living in this realm.

“Well,” Emma said as she chewed on a piece of bacon, “Your grandparents are in charge of cooking. Your grandpa is cooking the turkey. Then grandmas making roasted carrots, greenbean casserole, brussel sprouts, broccoli with cheese, sweet potatoes-”

“What about the mashed potatoes and stuffing?” Hopes face was full of concern over her favorite sides.

“I’m making those,” Emma stated taking another beat of her bacon.

“Grandma’s letting you incharge of not one but two sides?!”

Emma rolled her eyes, “I can boil potatoes, and the stuffing is coming from the box. I can follow instructions.”

Hope eyed her mother, “Okay but where we having it whose all coming?”

Emma swallowed the last bit of her bacon, “I think this year is gonna be smaller then previous ones. Regina said she probably won’t be able to make it this year. I think Henry and Ella are planning on surprising Regina with take out but they maybe over for dessert. Granny is staying open on Thanksgiving so shes busy. Zelena is Zelena. So I think its just gonna be us with your grandparents and uncle.”

“We will be hosting this feast this year,” Hopes father finally spoke up, “and you are free to invite someone if you’d like, love.”

Hope looks as if she about to say something before she decides against it. She bites her lip and turns her attention back onto her breakfast. Her parents gave each other a look before returning to their own food.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

WEEK OF THANKSGIVING

Hope sat on her bed reading the newest book Henry brought over for her when her phone rang. Her face lit up when she saw who was calling her.

“Hello beautiful,” Hope answered.

“Hello to you too gorgeous,” a femmene voice replied.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of receiving your call, milady.”

A giggle came through her phone that warmed Hopes heart. “I just wanted to call and see what you were up to.”

“I’m just hanging out in my room. Henry brought over a new book for me.”

“Oh I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you from your reading.”

“Not at all. I’m sure it’s a fine book but I’d rather be talking to you.” 

“Well aren’t you one smooth talker. I bet you can do more than just talk with that silver tongue of yours.”

Hope starts choking on her own spit. 

Laughter once again rings her ears, “I’m only teasing. Your so cute when you get flustered.”

Hope clears her throat trying to regain her composure, though her cheeks still felt warm. “So uh what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“If this is your way of asking me to Thanksgiving dinner with your family, I accept.”

“No. I was-”

“I don’t think my family are dong anything they might be going to Grannies.”

“But I-”

 “Don’t get me wrong I love Grannys. But it’s Thanksgiving your suppose to have a home cooked meal. Plus being able to finally meet-”

“I’M NOT INVITING YOU TO DINNER,” Hope all but yelled.

The silence that followed was deafening. Hope realizing what she did covered her mouth wishing she could take it back. 

“Oh.”

Taking her hand away from her mouth Hope spoke, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to yell and I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I would love for you to come over-”

“It’s okay. I get if its a just the family thing.”

“No its not- Its not that.”

“Okay so what is it?”

Hope squeezed her eyes shut as she prepared to say this next part, “I haven’t told my parents.”

“You haven’t told your parents what?”

“About us. That I have a girlfriend.”

“... Are you embarrassed by me?”

“No! No. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.” 

“I’m not following.”

The tears Hope was holding in began to fall, “I’m-I’m scared. I don’t know how they will react or-or if they will even accept me. I don’t want to hide you or our relationship but I also don’t want my parents to hate me.”

“Aww babe.”

Hope began crying more as panic set in, “What if they tell me I can’t see you anymore? Or-or they make me go to therapy? Or they kick me out?”

“Baby you don’t really think they would kick you out, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Hope sniffled, “My dad is over 300 years old so he’s really old fashioned. My mom doesn’t talk about stuff so I have no idea what my mom thinks. Trust me, there have been so many times I have almost told them. So many times I have wanted to tell them about my beautiful funny girlfriend but I’m so scared.”

“Hey hey its okay. I get it. Tell them when you feel comfortable and safe to. okay? I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

Hope wiped her nose before replying with a soft “okay.”

“So... I’m your beautiful funny girlfriend am I?”

The conversation turned back to light teasing. Both females blissfully unaware of the figure moving away from the door and heading back downstairs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

THANKSGIVING

After a relaxing morning sipping on hot chocolate with cinnamon and watching the parade the Swan-Jones family split up. Emma getting the kitchen ready to be cooked in, Killian setting the table and Hope upstairs to change for dinner and wait for her grandparents and uncle to arrive. 

“Hope!” 

Hope her her father call for her from downstairs. 

“Come down, love. Guests should be here any minute.”

Hope marches downstairs and heads to the kitchen to see if there’s anything she can help with. Thats when the table caught her eye. Her brows furrowed as she counted the place settings.

“I thought just grandma, grandpa and uncle Neil were coming over. Why are there so many plates?”

Just then the doorbell rang. Hope turned her head and watched as her father opened the door greeting their new arrivals.

“Lady Ruby. Lady Dorothy thank you for joining us today. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving Captain. Thank you for for inviting us.”

Hope quirked up an eyebrow, “Aunt Ruby?”

Ruby turned, her polite smile turning into a shit eating grin, “There’s my favorite lemur.”

Ruby quickly approached her niece wrapping her arms around her in a big hug. “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you. One of these day we are gonna go out just you and me.”

“What are you doing here? I thought Grannys was staying open.”

“Oh it is. Granny said she and the rest of the staff could handle it.”

“Ahem.”

Ruby finally released her niece stepping away so Hope could see the dark haired woman standing just a step behind her aunt. 

“OH sorry babe. Hope I don’t think you two have met. This is Dorothy my signifcant other.”

Hopes eyes blown wide, she’s so in shock she nearly misses when Dorothy extends a hand to her. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you Hope.”

Hope shakes herself out of it to grab the offered hand and shake it. 

“Um yeah you too. So how long have you two been together?” she asks hesittantly.

“Um I think maybe a year or two before you were born.”

“WHAT?! How am I only hearing about this now?”

Ruby chuckles before offering an explanation, “Well unlike your parents or grandparents we don’t feel the need to be together all the time. Or to talk about our relationship. Dorothy is also very busy being in charge of the OZ section of Storybrooke and the munchkins that live there.”

Hope was at a lost for words, thankfully she didn’t need them as the couple excused themselves to go say hello to her mother. Not long after that her grandparents and uncle. Soon the house smelled of food and light chatter. 

The door bell rang and a curious Hope answered. She opened the door to find two men standing now their porch. One had brown hair with green eyes and clean shaven, the other had brown eye with salt and pepper hair with matching beard. “Um, hi. Can I help you?”

“Sorry to disturb you. Does Captain Hook live here by any chance?” asked the bearded one.

Hope eyed the men before turning her head and calling for her father. When he saw who was at the door he greeted the men with a smile. “James! Thomas! Glad to see you two could make it. Come in please.”

Killian opened the door wider allowing the men to step through, closing the door behind them one they entered. Killian wrapped an arm around his daughter before introducing everyone.

“Hope I’d like you to meet some of my old crew mates.”

“Hi.” Hope gave both of them a small wave.

“This here is James,” he introduced the bearded man.

“Its a pleasure to meet you, Hope.”

Hope nodded giving him a polite smile.

“And this,” her father gestured to the clean shaven man, “is his partner Thomas.”

“Husband actually. After all these years we finally got hitched.”

“Well congrats gents. That’s marvelous. Come on let me get you both a drink and introduce you to everyone.” Killian droopped a kiss to his daughters hea before unwrapped his arm from around her leading the couple further into the house. Leaving Hope standing their stuck in her own head. 

Two hours later the food is almost ready and everyone is starting to gather around the table when the door bell rings again.

“I got it,” Emma called. She came back a minute later with Alice and Robin in tow. “Look what the cat dragged in everyone.”

A chorus of greetings followed.

“Hi everyone. Sorry if we are late but we brought chocolate covered strawberries.”

“No worries at all foods almost done so take a seat,” Emma waved away their apology, taking the plate and placing it in the fridge to save for later.

“And don’t worry Alice. We are making a plate for your father so you can take to him. Robin we can make one for you mother too if you’d like,” David offered.

“Thank you,” Alice smiled.

“Yeah thanks. I think she would appreciate a little plate.” Robin replied.

As everyone settled at the table, Snow and David began to fill it with all the sides and dishes that were created. Hope took a moment to look around the table to all their guests. Seeing all the friendly faces, and feeling the warm atmosphere, in that instance she made up her mind. 

Turning to her mother she asked, “Can I barrow the car?” Not bothering to wait for an answer as she put on her shoes and jacket.

Emma raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “And where are you going?”

“Theres someone missing,” She said as she closed the door behing her.

Twenty minutes later Hope is back but this time she is holding hands with a dark skinned girl. 

“Mom. Dad. Everyone, this is Celine. My girlfriend.” Her voice trembled slighty when she spoke.

Squeezing Hopes hand in what she hoped was a comfortng way, Celine smiled and waved at evryone. “Hello. Its a pleasure to be here.”

The small silence was broken by the sound of Killian pushing his chair back. He approached the young girls stoping in front of them. He offered a gentle smile before reaching forward. “Thank you for joining us Celine. Its an honor to meet you.”

Hope let out  a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in, one lone tear escaped the corner of her eye sliding down her cheek. 

“Please come sit we were just about to begin dinner.”

Dinner went on smoothly. Filled with friendly chatter and compliments of the wonderful food. After dinner Henry, Ella, and Lucy all made an appearance for games then dessert. After dessert people started to had home. When it was down to just her grandparents and uncle left, who always stay to help clean up, Hope approached her mother from behind. Wrapping her arms around her in a hug, Hope whispered a ‘thank you’ inot her mothers shoulder.

“You have nothing to thank me for. You should talk to your dad though. He was the one who insisted we invite evryone.” Emma dried off her hands before turning around and returning the hug.

“I don’t care who you date. As long as they treat you well and you are happy. No matter what you will always be my daughter and I will always love you.”

Once they let go Hope went to find her father which didnt take long. She found him sitting on the front step enjoying the calm night. She sat down next to him leaning against his arm and laying her head on his shoulder.

“How did you know?”

“I heard you on the talking phone earlier this week. I thought it best to show you evrything was alright then to tell you.” Killian looked at his daughter, “I am a 300 year old pirate there isn’t anything I haven’t seen before. I fought to hard for my happy ending to judge others on their own.”

Hope nodded understanding what her dad was trying to say.She cuddled into her father more whispering ‘I love you dad,’ into his neck. 

Killian kissed the top of her head, “I love you too love. And nothing you do will ever change that.”

[karajaynetoday]

ours, for the rest of forever | ashton irwin

Hello friends! Here is a godparent!Ash one shot, based on this blurb about being godparents with Ashton and also inspired in part by that scene in Season 5 of One Tree Hill when Brooke is randomly looking after a baby but has to also finish fashion sketches so Lucas comes to her rescue with babysitting and it is overall very soft and cute. You know the one! Lol. 

A very big thank you to Jex @sadistmichael​ , Anna @cheekysos​ , Jae @jae-writes-fanfiction​ and Hailey @talkfastromance4​ for proof-reading and providing feedback on this when it was in its draft stages. You’re all absolute gems! 

Anyway, enjoy the softness and as always, please let me know what you think! I’ve got some thoughts for a potential part 2, so we’ll wait and see how part 1 goes :)

(This is a fem reader insert)

Word count: 3.3k words

Warnings: none

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

When your best friend Alice told you she was having a baby, you were over the moon. She was honestly one of the most kind-hearted people you knew, and the amount of love in her heart for others would only bloom more for a little baby to hold and cherish. Her partner James had been by Alice’s side since your university days, and their relationship was one that was literally #goals. They’d moved over to Los Angeles because James had an opportunity to work at an indie creative agency working with music artists, and when you followed a year or so later to pursue a consulting job, they’d welcomed you with open arms into the little community they’d formed of Australian ex-pats, LA creatives and generally good quality, salt of the earth people. 

In the early days, there were lots of late nights (that became early mornings) running amok in West Hollywood, going from one house party to the next, but as you grew older, it became more likely to be a quiet Sunday sesh in someone’s backyard, with a barbeque cooking and someone playing their favourite tunes on a portable speaker while you floated in the swimming pool or lounged about on the grass with everyone’s various pets in attendance. When you met Ashton, he was drumming shirtless at his own house party, and then doing shots with James and their friend Calum. You were more than a little intimidated, although he had a kind face and welcoming nature, Ashton was forthcoming his opinions. On the other hand, you were always more reserved, and it took you  time to feel like you belonged with their crazy crew of friends. One night, you and Ashton ended up alone in the kitchen sharing some chicken nuggets and potato gems tater tots after a wild night on the house part dancefloor, and from there you could feel a solid friendship starting to take hold. 

A few months after Alice and James told you they were expecting, they’d invited you and Ashton out to brunch at one of your favourite spots. It was a little hole-in-the-wall café in Studio City that you’d first come to after Ashton wouldn’t stop raving about how good their iced coffees were. You all ordered your favourites (avocado smash with a side of smoked salmon and a hash brown for you, raspberry hotcakes for Alice, a breakfast burger for James, and pulled pork eggs benedict with a side of halloumi for Ashton) and were chatting away about your weeks at work when Alice reached down and pulled two envelopes out of her tote bag and handed on to you and one to Ashton. You took them, looking confusedly at Alice and James, who had big goofy smiles on their faces.

“Well, go on! Open them!” Alice half-shouted excitedly, squeezing James’ hand on top of the table. You and Ashton glanced at each other, perplexed, before tearing open the envelopes and finding a card inside. Yours read, “Will you be my godmother?” in gold writing on the front, and inside was an ultrasound photo with a handwritten note from Alice that made you tear up when you started reading it. You could see in your peripheral vision that Ash had a corresponding card in his envelope too, and he was standing up to give James and Alice a hug with an enthusiastic “Fuck YES! Of course I will!” that garnered some disapproving looks from the middle-aged women sitting near you. You held it together just enough to stand up and exchange hugs and choke out a “Y-y-yes” to Alice and James, before basically bursting into full blown tears of happiness and apologising profusely as your brunch was delivered to the table. As you wiped away your tears and managed to begin eating your avocado smash, you felt Ashton squeeze your hand reassuringly under the table, and when you glanced towards him he was grinning at you with a smile that was as bright as a thousand suns. 

It was a normal June day at the office a few months later when your phone pinged with a text from Alice in your group chat with her, James and Ashton that 

 read “It’s go-time. We’ll keep you updated!”. You replied with lots of exclamation points and crying emojis, and for Alice and James to let you know if they needed anything, and a few minutes later Ashton had penned a full paragraph about the beauty of the creation of life, how he knew that Alice and James would be incredible parents, and that he couldn’t wait to meet the little one once they made their way into the world. Ashton was frustratingly eloquent sometimes. Later that night, you received a photo message of a small, pink baby snuggled up on Alice’s chest, with James’ arm thrown around her shoulders, and the caption “Charlie Rose, ten fingers, ten toes. Come visit tomorrow, she can’t wait to meet you x” and you could barely sleep from the anticipation of meeting your darling goddaughter for the first time.

Ashton insisted on meeting you at the hospital so you could visit Alice, James and Charlie together (“Dude, we’re a godparent team here! A package deal! A dynamic duo! Can’t have you getting in there as the favourite from day one!”) and you’d never seen him more gentle or smitten than when the small, wriggly bundle of blankets that was Charlie Rose was placed in his arms. Ashton rocked her gently, kissing her head, and whispering to her about how incredible she was and how excited he was to see her grow. James was snapping away with his camera, and he asked you and Ash to stand together for a photo holding Charlie, which would later be stuck on your fridge for years to come (and possibly be your phone lockscreen, but no need to mention that to Ashton). 

Charlie was a tricky baby at first, resisting sleep and struggling with colic, but Alice and James were incredible and persistent and by the time she was 6 months old, they basically had the hang of this parenting thing. They didn’t want to christen Charlie in a church, but instead decided to hold one of your cherished backyard barbeques as a naming celebration for her. All of your nearest and dearest were there, and Alice’s mum had even flown in from Australia to meet her newest granddaughter. Despite it being an incredibly informal affair, Ashton insisted on making a speech about how he felt to be in Charlie’s life, to love and support her through every milestone and challenge she might encounter along the way. Charlie was happily gurgling in Ashton’s arms as he spoke, and she reached up to grab at his cheeks when he told her he loved her. Alice’s mum insisted on getting photos of everyone, including you and Ashton holding Charlie, and you tried to ignore the butterflies you felt when Ash slid his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side for a cosy photo pose. Were you actually starting to fall for him, or was it just the baby fever talking? Because damn, that man looked good with a baby in his arms.

When Charlie was almost 12 months old, Alice decided that she wanted to go back to work a few days a week. Charlie would be in childcare for most of the days, but you’d recently adopted a flexible working arrangement with your own office, and you insisted that you would love to look after Charlie for one day a week. The older Charlie got, the more adventurous she became, so what you’d originally envisioned as nice, quiet days of baking and craft activities and napping soon became full of visits to the playground and the beach and the zoo. Once Ashton heard about your regular babysitting day, he insisted on clearing his schedule as best he could, and joined the outings you and Charlie went on. It’s so much easier to cope with her boundless energy (and occasional temper tantrums) when you and Ash are together, and you have to admit it’s just as nice on the quieter days as well, when you snuggle in on your couch to watch a Disney movie, or do some puzzles with Charlie on the lounge room floor. 

When Ashton was back out on tour, he’d insist on FaceTiming with you and Charlie on your babysitting day so he didn’t miss out on all the fun. Sometimes he’d read her a story or sing her a lullaby before naptime, and sometimes the timezones wouldn’t work out and he’d end up calling during naptime, so the two of you just spent a little time catching up on each other’s lives from your opposite sides of the country or the planet. Ashton also loved collecting little souvenirs for Charlie on his touring travels, and your group chat with Alice and James was regularly filled with photos of snow globes or little soft mascot toys he’d found in one city or the next. It was so cute how excited Ashton got when he found a new souvenir for Charlie, and you couldn’t help but imagine how adorable he’d be when he had his own children and carried on little traditions like this for them too. 

One particular weekend, Alice and James were going away overnight to attend a friend’s wedding nearby, and despite their anxiety and nerves (and admittedly, your own), they decided to leave Charlie with you for the night as your house is the main one besides their own that she spends time in. They dropped Charlie off just after lunchtime, and after a teary goodbye, she’s soon happily playing with her toy cars and trains on the lounge room carpet (including making broom-broom noises, what a cutie) when you get an unexpected call from your boss. They’re rambling about a client needing an urgent rewrite on something that you’d submitted the previous day, a pretty sizeable project, and you could feel yourself starting to fill with dread at the idea of having to rework the entire thing while also keeping Charlie happy and entertained. After managing to jot down the gist of the rewrite on the back of a colouring in page you found on your coffee table and ending the call with your boss, you took a deep, calming breath before looking over to where Charlie was still playing on the floor. Sure, she looked content and adorable now, but nap time was fast approaching, and then dinner, and then eventually bedtime, and there was nothing Charlie liked more than stomping her feet and putting up a fight where sleep was involved. It was time to call for help, and your fingers found Ashton’s contact in your phone and hit “call” before you realised what you were doing.

“Hey, how’s it going with my favourite girl?” Ashton answered cheerily, and your heart stopped beating for a moment before you mentally face-palmed when you realised that he was talking about Charlie, not you, being his favourite girl.

“Hey Ash! All good so far, but um… I think I’m going to need some help. My boss is having a crisis, so I need to smash out some edits and new content in the next three hours, but Charlie’s due to go for a nap and you know that she -” You could feel yourself starting to sound more panicked with each word that you spoke, but Ashton quickly cut you off with his soothing voice.

“That she likes to pick a fight at nap time, yes. A truly assertive future world leader on our hands, I reckon. I’m just finishing up a demo, but I’ll be there in 20 minutes. I’ll sort dinner as well, spaghetti sound okay?” He mused, sounding as calm as ever.

“That… would be amazing. Thank you. You’re actually the best human to exist, you know that?” You gushed, feeling some of your anxiety immediately begin to disappear. 

Within half an hour, Ash was in your lounge room handling Charlie’s nap time negotiations while you were furiously typing away at your laptop at the kitchen counter and fielding more frantic phone calls from your boss. Another 20 minutes passed before Ash proclaimed victory as Charlie lost her battle against sleep, and he came to see you in the kitchen and make a start on dinner. You were so lost in your task that you didn’t hear him come in, and you jumped a mile out of your seat in fright when he gently touched your shoulder in greeting.

“Jesus christ, Ash! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You huffed, taking your glasses off and rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. 

Ashton leaned on the counter opposite you and raised his eyebrows in concern. “Sorry love, didn’t realise you didn’t hear me come in. You good?” 

Damn it, why was he always so nice to you these days? Remember the days when you were scared of him because he used to argue with you about politics and the state of the world? Why did those seem somehow easier because fear was more natural to you than whatever this other feeling was that you were starting to have whenever Ashton was around you. 

You sighed and put your glasses back on, frowning briefly at the screen before hitting save one more time (just in case your bad luck took a turn and fucked you over with lost documents). 

“Yep. Sorry. It’s just been a bit of a day. Did Charlie go down okay?” You forced a smile as you glanced up at Ashton over the top of your laptop screen. 

“Yeah, she gave in once I offered another bedtime singalong. And maybe, juuuust maybe, I might have mentioned something about some sweets after dinner…” Ash looked at you guiltily, licking his lips nervously. You rolled your eyes and shook your head at him, but you couldn’t keep the small smile off your face.

Ashton got started on making spaghetti while you tapped away at your computer, and soon enough you heard Charlie calling out for Ashton in her little sing-song voice on the baby monitor you had set up on the kitchen counter (“Asht-aaaaa! Where are youuuuu! Asht-aaaaa!”). The spaghetti smelled incredible, and when Ashton brought Charlie into the kitchen from her nap and she’d had a little while to play a bit more, you settled at the kitchen table to tuck into some dinner. Well, Charlie was more interested in playing with her food than actually eating it, but yours was delicious and for the third or fourth time that day, you thanked Ash profusely for being such a gem (to which he just gave you one of those dazzling smiles in response).  

After dinner, Ashton took Charlie for a bath and read her a bedtime story while you powered through the final part of the project edits you needed to finish before your boss burst a blood vessel. You could hear Ashton reading to Charlie on the baby monitor, doing all of the different character voices, and her little giggles in response were both breaking and warming your heart. Warming it with the cuteness and how much you loved that little girl and her cheeky soul, and breaking it with the guilt about how it was supposed to be you snuggled up reading to her, but instead you were frantically typing about key messages, marketing strategies and budget lines. You were doing your last section of re-writes when Ash came back into the kitchen, and this time you didn’t jump when he gently placed his hands on your shoulders. In fact, you leaned into his touch, and moaned quietly in relief as his thumbs began to work into the tension in your muscles.

“How’s it going?” Ashton asked quietly, continuing to press his hands into your back and shoulders.

“Almost there. Mostly just proof-reading now, and then I can send it and not fucking think about it for another second until at least Monday. Ash, I’m so sorry again, I know this isn’t what you had in mind for your Friday night and I should’ve been more organised but I just didn’t think that -” You began to ramble, feeling the guilt wash over you.

“Hey, hey. Stop. It’s fine. We’re a team, remember? The dynamic duo? Gotta stick together. We’ve got a whole lifetime of dealing with Charlie meltdowns and milestones ahead of us, love. It’s our job and our blessing, for the rest of forever. Don’t feel guilty over one night.” Ashton said softly, squeezing your shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. There were those butterflies again, and your skin was almost burning from where his hands had touched you. You simply nodded at his words, before returning to your laptop and the task at hand. Ashton stepped away and quietly began washing the dishes (honestly, is there anything this man didn’t do?) as you began typing again. 

Finally, about twenty minutes later, you hit send on the email to your boss with the completed rewrites, and shut your laptop with a deep sense satisfaction, letting out a triumphant whisper-yell, mindful of the sleeping child down the hallway from you. Ash looked up from where he was sat on the couch, scrolling on his phone, and rushed over to high-five you when he realised that you’d shut your laptop.

“Right. You go shower and I’ll put the kettle on, then it’s one episode of Sons of Anarchy and then off to bed with you.” Ash began, tugging you out of your seat and pushing you towards your bedroom before you could protest.

“Wait… how did you know I was watching Sons of Anarchy?!” You turned and asked, with one hand on the door to your bedroom.

“I was stalking through your Netflix earlier when you were lost in editing land. Plus, I know you can’t resist a charming male lead who has a killer smile and looks damn good in a leather jacket.” Ash chuckled, shooting you a wink and one of those goddamn smiles. 

You hated to admit it, but you felt so much better after your shower, and having Ash pull your feet up over his lap and absentmindedly run his hands softly across your legs from time to time wasn’t exactly bad either. You stuck to your promise of only one episode of Sons of Anarchy, and after pulling your groaning self up off the couch and jokingly half-carrying you to your bedroom door, Ashton bid you goodnight with a hug and a kiss to the forehead before disappearing into your guest room. 

As you settled into your own bed, alone, and pulled the blankets up over you, you couldn’t help but think how nice it was to have Ash so present with you and with Charlie, and how sweet it would be in the morning to wake up together in the same house and go for breakfast at your favourite little brunch spot down the street, before waiting for James and Alice to return in the early afternoon. It was all your own little family unit, and as you felt yourself being lulled into sleep, you also felt a deep sense of content in your heart about the loved ones in your life. And then also there were those butterflies, just slowly but surely making their presence known, and getting a little bigger every time you thought of Ashton, and how much he loved Charlie, and how much she loved him and you, and how much you loved them both.

Shit. Did you actually love him? Were you falling in love with Ashton Irwin? Before you could panic too much, the need for sleep won out, and you slept peacefully knowing two of your favourite people were also sleeping calmly in the rooms either side of you. 

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Three! If you’d like to be tagged, please sent an ask or message. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Grieving process. Age Gap. Character pregnancy. Unrequited feelings. Online personality problems. Guilt. I believe that is all.

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

“Hi, there,” The woman giggled into the mic as Jensen played up the flirty eyebrow bounce and cheesy smile that would be cast over Tumblr within twenty four hours.

He was finished after that final panel, for the trip. Nothing sounded better than a hot shower and catching some sleep. His mind was still reeling from the news he'd been given that morning, but he couldn't focus on that. So, he buried himself behind that charming persona he'd created.

“Dude, leave her alone...she wants me,” Jared smoothed his thick, long, chestnut locks in a way that caused thirsty cries from all around. He cackled as his friend mock frowned his way; unimpressed at the turn of attention. Earning the familiar high pitched laugh from the crowd in front of them.

It was easy to play into their hands. To take the nerves that came with being shy and put it towards acting like a dork with his best friend. He appreciated the disguise more than he'd ever say. Letting it mask the worry and fear he could feel churning inside of him when it was too quiet for long.

“Actually, my question is for Jensen-”

“Ha!” The mentioned man in question leaned forward at the barked utterance, pretending to gloat. Smugly bouncing his brows at Padalecki.

With a deep, regretful sigh, the taller of the two settled back in his chair; wrapping his arms around the back of it as he sat in reverse, “Okay, I guess.” The over dramatically stated words were coupled with a theatrical sulk that drew forth more giggles.

“I was wondering if Y/N and the kids are enjoying the trip to San Diego,” It was no secret that his family had been flocked around him. Until now, that is. The way he paused at that had every eye present turning towards him.

“Uh, actually...” He forced his lips to stay upright. “They're back home, right now.” Concerned 'awes' filled the air. “No, no. It's okay. They're living it up.” Jared turned his gaze back to the man he'd been brothers with for almost two decades. Not buying into the idea that he was really alright with it. “Last time I checked, they were having some kinda dance party. Again.” The way he clenched his teeth relaxed the fans a bit. An over emphasized grimace always seemed to break the mood. “It was wild. There was pink everywhere and a herd of little girls shouting to music.”

“Odette was leading the charge on the one I got,” The taller man joined in, having received his own recording. “Kicked Zeppelin over to my place for an old fashioned dinosaur night with the boys.” More awes filled the air.

“Y/N sent you something? I thought you two still weren't talking after you tried to drown her?” His brow crooked, finding something he could latch onto. Knowing that his friend had delivered that ammo on purpose. He really did love the moose.

“I can explain!” Jared held up his hand towards the 'ooohs,' and then stopped. “No... no, I can't.” His head dipped in false shame, earning another set of rambunctious chuckles.

“I can.” Jensen easily took over. Turning to better face the crowd now that he'd successfully maneuvered around the original question. “This guy tortures my nanny. She's like the female version of Misha to Jared. It's endless.” The mentioned man's lips screwed up as he nodded proudly, accepting the label that was thrown onto you. “So, we were at a cookout over at his place. I'm flipping burgers and relaxing with a beer. You know...like a normal person.” His words only made his friend shrug. Zero shame in sight. “Next thing I know? She's screeching as he full on tosses her into the pool.”

“She called me old!” The roar that followed was deafening. “See? They get it!” He beamed at the response only serving to make Jensen over-exaggerate the roll of his green eyes. “And, it worked. What did she say after?”

“You're a child.” The admission was straightforward.

“Meaning that I'm young, and that she was wrong.” A round of applause made him get to his feet, and bow as the widower shook his head in mock shame. Cracking his own grin.

The mic was lifted back to Jensen's lips, “Dude...you started a war because she told the truth?” He knew what had been said, but the crowd was eating it up. Keeping him safe for a little while longer.

“That hurts...” A pat to the heart was thrown in. “That hurts me right there.”

“The kids all joined in. It was chaos.” Ackles explained the previous comment to the women, with a few men scattered here and there. “My kids and Y/N versus his herd and him. We needed an ark to get to the tables. They soaked everything.” His hand panned across the people in front of him, emphasizing how far the damage had spread. “Everything. Gen thought they were going to kill each other.” Jared cackled. Remembering the look on his wife's face. “Y'all know how we had to stop pranking each other, right? 'Cause it was so deadly? That's what they should be doing. Instead, she's become this...epic battle partner. I'm thinking they'll start the next apocalypse before this is over.” A proud nod confirmed it. Jared wouldn't give in until the world ended. Or, he had to go back to work. Whichever happened first.

“Do you prank Y/N?” Someone shouted, catching his attention.

“Do I... Do I prank her? Are you kidding? Do I look stupid?” More laughs filled the air as he shuddered something fierce. “Misha? Absolutely. He doesn't fight back.” His fingers tacked off each point. “He doesn't live in my house. Doesn't hang out with my kids. I like not having to worry about her sicking my spawn on me in retaliation. They'd do it in a heart beat, too.” And most importantly, it kept the professional barriers somewhat in place. “Yeah, no, Y/N and I don't....we're not...” Weren't anything other than co-parents, employer and employee, and almost friends in an odd sort of way. How's that for complicated?

“As fun as I am,” Jared finished, saving him, again. Hoping that the fans wouldn't take that last statement as he had started to. He covered his own look of interest before diving back into the panel. “Now, that we went way off topic....who's next?”

–

“How did the 'mom' thing even start?” You asked in confusion, scrolling through your Instagram notifications. Your feet thrown over the back of the couch as you sprawled. Making yourself quite at home in the Ackles house. The selfie you'd posted while cleaning the damage the girls had caused was packed.

Not that you weren't used to it by that stage. The moment Danneel had tagged you in a post, it had been over. You'd been stalked and fawned over by some. When she passed? You'd been flocked for updates about the Ackles family.

It had taken a year for you to gather the courage to begin posting again. Once you did? The fandom clung to you for offering small pieces of what life was like inside the Ackles' household. Needing to have that sense of closeness to the supernatural family, still, even with a member gone.

The simple image of you with Oscar resting his head on your lap as you sorted the makeup away had garnered the usual 'queen', 'mom', and 'I love yous' mixed with the occasional trash talker. Once Jensen had commented saying he wanted his dog back when he got home? It had grown worse. When you told him that he'd have to fight you for the golden doodle? The post had blown up. The fans demanding to know if you and him had something going on.

Apparently his panel had only cemented the idea, somehow. You hadn't watched it. Leaving you to only wonder what he'd said to garner that response. Sure it had simply been taken out of context.

You scrolled on, determined to find some answers. A few flicks of your fingers and fate intervened. The phone slipped to your face. Making you wince all the while. As if life had directly told you that social media was bad for your health.

With a sigh, you tossed your phone to the couch. Trying to not let the extreme Danneel and Jensen fans get under your skin. Too many 'you'll never be her' comments filled your mind. More than enough 'stop trying to take her place' had you questioning where you stood. You were doing everything you could to get what was needed done while not dancing on your deceased friend's toes.

Did the world really not understand? Were you really any better off than they suggested? The small crush said you weren't.

“No idea,” Genevieve stated seriously, walking towards the grey couch you were occupying with a pile of healthy snacks loaded up. Pulling you from the internal struggle. She'd been extra conscious of what she was putting into her body since she'd discovered the newest pregnancy. “I just kinda...roll with it.”

She and the kiddos were bunking with you. Tag teaming was so much simpler when the baby exhaustion hit. And it gave the both of you some grownup time together when the men were away.

“It's so strange,” You picked up one of the grapes with your fingers before plopping it in your mouth. Giving up on trying to understand the fact that you'd become an icon of sorts- and the ramifications- for simply nannying some, albeit great, kids.

At your friend's next words, you choked, “So...what's the deal with you and Jensen?”

“It's the same as its always been,” Came the broken words as you got back a hold of yourself. Brushing it off. “Why?”

“Just curious,” That wasn't it. The cool, actress's poker face she wore said as much. But, you were too sensitive to call her out on it, just then. Luckily, she changed gears. “I can't believe that this is it...The last season is being filmed this year.”

The CW had finally pulled the plug on the Winchesters once it had hit adulthood. The boys had found out in a meeting that morning. They'd known it was coming. Had even agreed to it. And yet? Hearing the finality of it? Was another nail in the coffin.

“Eighteen seasons...It's crazy.” Your hand ran through your hair as you looked at the old episode on screen. Sister Jo stood off against Michael!Dean. The tension in the scene was palpable. It didn't hurt to watch it, anymore. Instead, you focused on the fact that she'd been doing what she loved with the man she'd been head over heels for. “How's Jared holding up?”

“He's zeroed in on the kids. Telling himself that it's going to be good for us in the end.” Her hand rubbed over her still flat stomach. “But, he's definitely feeling it. He's been Sam for so long... Saying goodbye is hard.”

“That it is,” You agreed, frowning at the screen. Wondering how Jensen was taking the day.

He hadn't said a thing to you when he'd checked in. Simply had asked for an update on the household before he crashed. Dean had become his crutch. Without the Winchester in his life, you weren't quite sure what he'd do with himself.

Ackles had a passion for directing and acting. There was no doubt about it. But, Supernatural had become everything when his life had turned upside down. It had given him the consistency he'd needed to get through. And while things had been okay for a time? It would be just another major thing he was losing.

Your socked foot rubbed over the soft fur of Icarus. The cockapoo was up there in age. He'd been diagnosed with congestive heart failure at sixteen years old. The white, fifteen pounds of floof didn't let it deter him, though. A couple of pills a day kept him comfortable and loved for as long as he could be. But, it had gotten under Jensen's skin, too.

It made your stomach churn to think about how fast the negative could pile up on already weakened shoulders. And yet, he wanted you to step back. Having time away from him had cleared your head. Allowed you to see his side of things. Maybe it was time to give him some room to breathe. To let him process everything on his own. After all, you were just the nanny...

–

“Dad!” Three voices shouted in unison when the door opened. Ditching their place at the table as Jensen stumbled in with a wide smile on his face. Each kid got a big hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

When they tried to talk over each other, he slowed them down, gently with a, “One at a time.” And, miraculously? It worked. He was informed of everything he'd already had reported to him. Only this time? In child perspective. Which made it dramatic. Completely over the top. Just the way he liked it.

A nod your way was all you received as you slipped past the scene; lifting his bag for him so that no one tripped over it. Including the bumbling dog that was trying to get a kiss in, himself. Oscar had missed his human while he'd been gone.

The dog had been with Danneel's brother during her last pregnancy. She'd been too sick to handle the energetic buffoon while Jensen had been away, filming the show. Gino had fallen in love with the pup. Keeping him...until he thought Jensen needed him more. Returning him back to the Ackles' home solemnly. Oscar had, once again, latched back onto the head of the house with a fierce loyalty that most wouldn't expect from a fluffed up mixed breed. The affection was mutual. Jensen's hand stilled the squirming beast with a simple pet to the top of his curled head as you left the chaos.

Jensen's room was clean. A feat that wouldn't last long once he started unpacking. Bed made up, clothes lined nice and neat, with just a hint of his cologne still lingering in the air from before he'd left. You dropped the duffle on the mattress and turned away. Only to catch sight of the image beside his pillow. It held the dogs, his wife, and the kids all surrounding him. Everything he loved in one picture. His family.

Slowly, you slid the door shut and returned back to the reunion, “Dinner's ready if you're hungry.” You smiled softly at the way he ensured each kid knew that they were loved before climbing back up to his feet. Lumbering after you to get the food while it was still hot.

“Spaghetti,” The actor rumbled in excitement, sniffing the air as he approached the table. His lips smacked hungrily. He was a sucker for a pasta with a good meat sauce. “The wardrobe ladies are gonna be mad at me, later, but I'm piling it up.” He hadn't exaggerated. The flight had left him hungry. “God, this is good.” Came the Dean-like groan as he chowed down. Forgetting that he didn't have to eat like a man who had lived off of nothing more than pizza and beer.

“Dad!” The tiny, disapproving tone left J.J with ease. “You're not supposed to talk with your mouth full.”

He gulped down the food, and smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, J-bird.”

“It's okay. Just try to remember,” The words were so Danneel that you couldn't help but to smile gently at them. She was going to be trouble as she continued to age. But, you had faith she'd be pretty great in the end. Hell, they all would if the night was any indication.

If he was upset about the show ending, he didn't show it. Even after the kids retired for the night and he helped clean up, he didn't say a word. The only thing you got was a pat on the back and a low “goodnight” that made your skin prickle before you returned your own.

Part Four

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord​​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @ima-be-a-mongoose​ @briagallen​

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278​​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​​ @supernaturalginger​​ @lilulo-12​​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @malfoysqueen14​​​  @michealneedssomemilk

[bangtancentricsblog]

part of the Smoke Clouds Series 

{adj.} (of a person or their behavior) unconventional and slightly strange

weird neighbor taehyung x grumpy mc

This is my second ever fic for Taehyung, it’s narrative heavy and comes in at around 2.8k and it’s the most I’ve written in a while! It was inspired by Stanley and Sydney’s relationship in Netflix’s ‘I Am Not Okay with This’. It’s unedited and has recreational drug use, Tae smokes weed, Mc has trouble making friends. Features weed dealer Jungkook, I wish I was as witty as I think I am and maybe this would’ve been funnier please let me know what you think! Let me know if I forgot to mention something.

Taehyung was weird, or maybe he was just a happy guy. Either way he made it his sole purpose to annoy you, well at least that’s what you thought. You’d moved into this neighborhood some two years ago, you hadn’t greeted anyone or even bother to introduce yourself. No, you weren’t the ‘I’m new in town and I made cookies’ kind of neighbor. That was the kind of shit people did when they wanted friends in their neighbors, but not you. No you weren’t that nice and you didn’t in fact care if you were friends with the neighbors. Hell you’d be happy if they never spoke to you, except for the fact that Taehyung had happily walked down the road and introduced himself to you. Again he was weird, long locks just hanging in his face as he smiled the weirdest box smile you’d ever seen. He’d been the one to bake something for you as a welcome gift, he didn’t even bat an eye as you said you didn’t want it. He’d only smiled and turned on his heel once again welcoming you to the neighborhood. It’d taken a moment, hands clutching the pyrex filled with cookies to realize he was sans shoes. He was weird. 

It had taken four months, that's right four of him running up to you whenever he’d see you down the street, mud caked to the soles of his feet as he took the shopping bags from you and carried them the rest of the way for him to worm his way into a friendship. It took him no time at all to ask if you wanted to get high with him, something that you had always turned your nose up at but had agreed bringing the snacks from the convenience store with you. The first time you smoke with him he shotguns it to ease you into it, it’s also the start of when you two casually kiss even if not for the benefit of sharing the high. His lips were soft and he was handsome if you took the time to really look and you did when you were high. Through him you meet his dealer, a boy by the name of Jungkook who lives a block from the convenience store you frequent when you're high. Taehyung takes to holding you around the waist when your mind is cloudy from the weed giggles slipping past usually cemented lips. He tells you that you smile more after you’ve smoked, a scowl settling on your lips while you’re still sober. It isn't something you like to think about especially since he’s just your friend. 

He was always smiling you note, even when you would angrily rant about how stupid he was for not wearing shoes when he got sick. He’d choked on his laugh, coughing as he told you how much he loved the feel of nature through his toes. You go to parties together, the people you meet are nice enough but none of them like you. Except for Jungkook with his bambi eyes and bunny smile who takes to holding your hand and dragging you around when Taehyung is busy with other people. You’re not jealous, because why would you be? You aren't his girlfriend and he has more friends than just you, he shouldn't have to sacrifice his fun to make sure you're enjoying yourself. Jungkook asks you if you want to smoke with him and you say yes, you’re taking a slow drag from the blunt when another person comes up and asks for a hit. You hand it over narrowing your eyes at the girl who’s standing beside you, she’s pretty dark head of hair shining in the moonlight her eyes twinkling with mirth as she meets your gaze. She introduces herself as Lisa, a friend of Jungkooks and you smile softly, she's nice enough she makes you laugh but you don’t see yourself becoming her friend. 

He’s wearing shoes the day he asks you why you hate people. He doesn’t ask to be mean and you don’t think he really cares all that much, he’s just curious. You’re brows furrow lips pressed in a firm line, quite honestly you don't want to tell him why. He doesn’t need to know and it’s been almost 8 months of your friendship so you don't want to see him change because of you. So you don't say anything and instead change the topic to Jungkook who you saw at the convenience store buying a large slushie and scowling at the microwave. He doesn’t ask again just laughs as he tells you how the other boy has been feuding with the thing since he was a kid. He shares some of his own childhood stories and they’re funny so you laugh but there’s no real humor to it. You two smoke later that day making out as you’re perched in his lap. The fuzziness of your brain lulling any of the thoughts that has managed to surface from your earlier conversation. 

You’ve been ‘friends’ nearly a year when you hurt his feelings. He didn't push really, never brought up why you hated people again. So you don’t really know why you reacted the way you did, he’d been standing in his yard (sans shoes but that was normal now) hands tucked into his pockets as Lisa giggled up at him. He smiled down at her that soft dopey smile he wore whenever he was higher than a kite. The one you had thought was reserved only for you, but maybe he was just that kind of guy. Sure you kissed and smoked together but nothing else has happened. He didn't call you his girlfriend and you didn't call him your boyfriend, you went to parties together sure but nothing happened. It was a stagnant, comfortable place, one that you had happily kept near and dear. One that you didn't think would ever be something you’d have to give up. You see him turn smile so wide as he catches sight of you and leaves Lisa to come join you down the road. You’ve come from the doctors today, and even though he doesn't know it's hard to not want to be mean to him. 

You hadn’t meant it, the words that had come from you burned like acid on your tongue. The look of utter hurt that crossed his features as you spat the nastiest things at him made you want to crumble. You’d managed to take all the things you liked about him and twist them into the most horrible things you could possibly think of. His smile had fallen eyes shining with tears as he looked at his feet suddenly shy and then nodded his head once before bolting away from you. Lisa had scowled at you as she walked past, shoulder checking you and calling you an asshole. You couldn’t have agreed more, so you continued your walk to your house mind rampant with thoughts of a weird boy with a box smile. 

It's been almost a month since you’ve last spoken to Taehyung, not that you would want to either if you were in his position. He avoids you as best as he can, you’ve seen him just up the road when you come from a late night walk to the convenience store. He looks tired, not much like himself, or at least the version of himself you know. You don’t go out much anymore either, Jungkook glares at you when he sees you and you understand. It’s not much but Jungkook was the only person that you actually liked and considered a friend besides Taehyung. It's considerably harder to get through the day, especially when you used to spend it smoking with Taehyung and Jungkook won't sell you any weed now that he also isn't speaking to you. All in all you miss your friends, the ones you made here in this new town that was supposed to be a new start. The sun is shining through the blinds in your living room as you lay on the couch the tv on but nothing catches your attention. The newest season of Castlevania plays and it's one of Netflix’s best animated shows yet, or at least to you it was. You had planned to watch it with Taehyung since you both shared an open admiration for Richard Armitage and his role as Trevor Belmont. You’re on episode eight which means you spent the entire time staring blankly at the screen none of what has happened enough to distract you from how badly you had fucked everything up. 

The pyrex from all those months ago sat on your kitchen table empty and clean ready to be returned but seemingly forgotten. You missed him, missed his dopey smile, his deep chuckle, the soft way he kissed you, the slow drawl to his voice when he was higher than a fucking kite. You missed Taehyung and you wanted to go back to how it was before you had burned down that bridge of friendship and maybe something else. You rose slowly, ass now firmly planted on the couch cushion as your hands rubbed at your jean clad legs. It took you a couple of minutes, well more like a few months but you’d come to a shocking conclusion. Taehyung, the same guy who almost never wore shoes, the one who smoked as much as he laughed. Taehyung whose boxy smile was the highlight of your day, who held you tenderly and kissed you softly. Taehyung who had introduced you to Jungkook, who loved animals and drank too much coke. Taehyung who you had been rude to upon introduction, but had baked you cookies anyways was quite possibly the best thing to happen to you your entire life, and you now had come to realize you were completely in love with. The same Taehyung who probably hated you, the one who you made cry and all because you had seen him smile at someone else. God you were the worst, you wanted to cry just thinking about all the mean things you had said. Maybe you could make it up to him somehow, maybe you could bake him something and show him how sorry you are and how much you miss him. 

Two hours later you’re pulling a less than appealing cake from your oven. It seemed simple enough on the box, so why the hell does it look like this. It's at this very moment that you realize that you are a terrible baker, and an even worse human.

“Oh god what the fuck.” you mutter hands on the counter as you wonder if he’ll like it. You suck it up and hope for the best, the worst that can happen is you fuck it up and he tell you he never wants to see you again. Guys like big gestures, right? To be honest you’re not entirely sure but you hope he does. You’re nervous as you wipe your hands on your jeans and make your way down the road to his house. Halfway there you stop turning back only to keep moving towards his house, its nerve wracking. Never had you had feelings like this for someone and never had you fucked up this bad. You’re standing in front of his door the paint looking just as it had almost a month ago. Except here and now he’s not standing there smiling down at you and inviting you in for your daily smoke session. It feels like forever just standing here now that you managed to sift through your thoughts and came to the conclusion that you had feelings for him. Yet you know nothing will change if you don't gather enough strength to make your limbs move and knock. 

A sound comes making your eyes grow wide as you realize that you’ve just knocked and are currently still knocking on his door. All the blood rushes from your face when you realize maybe now isn't the best time to try and reconcile with him. The sun is setting quickly and you haven't had enough time to prepare what you want to say to him. Your heart beats in your chest hard enough that you hope it bruises something, maybe then you’ll have time to thoroughly think this through. You’re ready to book it hands gripping tightly onto the pyrex container to make sure it doesn’t fall and break as you run for it, only you can’t run because the door opens. The light is low with Frank Sinatra floating softly through the air, your eyes are wide as they take in Taehyung. He's not smiling for one but his hair is longer curling at the ends and hanging in his face. He's wearing a black button up tucked into a very tight very appealing pair of black jeans, the top two buttons of his shirt are undone flashing that bit of caramel skin you loved seeing. 

He’s dressed like he went into the office today whereas he usually works from home and suddenly you feel all the more ready to flee. Though you see a glimmer of curiosity flicker through his gaze and that's what keeps you planted where you are. He quirks a brow and it's now that you notice the two of you have been standing awkwardly staring at one another. You clear your throat first before you thrust the pyrex container towards him and ducking your head. 

“I made this for you.” you breath the words so quietly you aren’t sure he even heard you. The container leaves your hands and you hear the lid come off followed by a distressed sound. You’ve taken to gnawing on your lip as you try to formulate other words. 

“What is this exactly?” 

“Devil's food cake, sorry if it tastes like shit its from a box.” 

“Oh,” he says sounding mildly confused and maybe because the half charred half undercooked treat is terrible. You still cant comprehend how the hell you managed to fuck it up like that “wow you are so bad at this.”and you perk up slightly because you can just barely make out a sliver of mirth in his tone. 

“I, I wanted to um, I uh, well…”you sputter trying your hardest to form a proper sentence. Though you notice you sound more like a bumbling babbling baboon. You meet his stare hoping that he knows, that he can tell what you’re trying to say. He has beautiful eyes you note, still trying to make your feelings known. He just waits patiently a small smile lining his lips the longer you stand trying to come up with the words to tell him. He watches as you gesture with your hands, opening and closing your mouth multiple times as your features slowly grow more and more frustrated. You’re huffing now scowl growing the longer you take to form words that will hopefully get your feelings across. Nothing comes, and you’re just about ready to cry and leave. Tears shine in your eyes blurring your vision a sob crawling its way up your throat in an attempt to flee. It doesn’t come however as Taehyung's warm palms cup your cheeks thumbs swiping just under your eyes and catching the tears that clung to your lashes. The pyrex container is out of sight as he leans forward pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. 

It's soft, softer than when you first kissed and softer than all the others after that. He slants his lips slightly kissing you with just the press of your lips and nothing more. It frees the butterflies in your tummy, and your hands come up to grasp onto his belt loops. Anything really that will reassure you that this is real, that he is here and he is real. He pulls away eyes meeting yours once more, “I’m sorry,” you say and he smiles pressing his forehead to yours “i didn't mean any of what i said. I want you to know that.” 

“I know, and it's okay.”

“It's not, I’m sorry. I never want to hurt you like that.” you whisper now tears filling your eyes again. 

“I know, and i already forgave you.”

“I like you.” you blurt wishing you had waited. His eyes crinkle as his box smile kisses his lips, he pulls away hand turned up in an offering for you to take. 

“Do you want to come in and smoke?” You take his hand nodding and walking in behind him. Your perched on his lap two hours later arms wrapped around his neck mind blissfully fuzzy from the weed. His lips are soft, and he’s just as beautiful as you remember, his arms are around your waist holding you close as you take your time kissing him. He groans every now and then when you take to nipping at the skin of his neck, eyes hazy with that far away he gets. You’ve pulled away from his neck taking in a blooming blemish that’ll be vibrant come morning when he says, “I like you too.” mouth already quirked in a smirk when he sees your eyes shine as you pull him into another kiss that's too much tongue and teeth but perfect.

✧✧✧✧✧✧

taglist:

 @boymeetsweevil look I did something and even if it’s unedited I really like it!

[lovelydayintheneighborhood]

Ambivalence Ch. 3(Jason Todd x Fem!Reader)

Link to chapter 1; chapter 2

Summary: The mystery of the Red Hood won’t let your brain rest.

Rating: T

Warnings: Canon typical violence.

A/N: Heres part 3!! Sorry for the long wait, lol, I haven’t had much time to post. But now that I do..... you may be getting another one of my works today, and this one has been rewritten and glamorized my folks, so stay tuned hehehe.

EDIT: This series has been discontinued at Chapter 6.

Chapter 3

“Sorry, Babs, can’t,” you said, voice muffled because your mouth was currently stuffed with pizza. “I’ve got patrol.” She groaned, no doubt rolling her eyes.

“Y/n, you need to get out! You’re either cooped up in your apartment doing God-only-knows-what, working at the cafe, or stalking people on the streets like a mini-Bruce.” You scoffed, taking another bite.

“Bruce and I are nothing alike. And if I want to stay in my apartment and binge watch Netflix, then who’s going to stop me?” You didn’t need friends anyways. You had all you needed when there were 12 seasons of Supernatural on Netflix and a perfectly cheesy pizza sitting right in front of you.

“I am. You’re coming with me Saturday, and we are going to have a fun night on the town, you hear me?” You choked, quickly swallowing your pizza so you could protest, but she cut you off. “No buts! Y/n L/n, you are going to go out and have a good time. Who knows, maybe you’ll even meet a guy?” You groaned, ignoring the tiny twinge in your stomach.

“Fine.” You huffed, hanging up on her and throwing your phone to the side, flipping on the TV. The local news report popped up, something about a break-in at the museum. Nothing stolen, but multiple windows were broken as well as a couple of statues.

“Authorities report that the suspected thieves were thwarted by Red Hood, the newest mask to grace Gotham City. No civilians appear to be hurt,” the news anchor droned on. You perked up, setting a slice of pizza down and reaching for your fizzy drink. “Citizens are still urged to be alert on the streets, as he is armed and dangerous. Two bodies have been found in the past month with evidence pointing towards the vigilante, as well as the remains of eight others.” The screen then changed to the weather, and you flipped the channel, raising a brow. She hadn’t mentioned that the people he’d gone after were a mob boss that had been controlling a good part of lower east Gotham, and a serial killer that Bruce had been after for weeks. Half of the town celebrated when it happened. As for the eight, they were drug dealers whose heads had been found in a duffel bag in an abandoned warehouse.You didn’t know what to think of it.

Closing your eyes and rubbing your temples, you thought about your previous encounters with the man. You hadn’t kept your promise to fight, but you were otherwise preoccupied each time, so you thought that that had let you off the hook.

The sound of gunfire rang through the air as you sprinted through the streets. There was a robbery on 5th and Main, and the suspects were holding hostages.

Coming up on the side of the building, you kicked in a window and crawled through. Carefully, you stole through the basement and up the steps, until you were hiding behind a cracked door. You could see the masked gunmen waving around their weapons like lunatics, their fingers on the trigger. One of them was yelling at the poor bank tellers, while the others made sure nobody tried anything. You were going to move in, when the sound of shattering glass broke your train of thought.

Someone had burst through the skylight. You looked through the wreckage, eyes falling upon none other than the Red Hood. Great. But he did create a distraction for you to burst in and take out the thugs aiming at the hostages. You quickly made sure all of the civilians were safe outside the building, keeping an eye out for more gunmen. Then you rushed back in.

All of the men were tied up and subdued, with no sign of Hood. You had sighed, reluctantly slipping out the back.

Two days later, you were perched on the edge of an old building, eyes locked on two men bolting out of a jewelry store. They each held a bulging bag, presumably full of diamonds and the like. They didn’t look particularly dangerous, but you knew better. This was Gotham, and everyone knew of the dangers that hid in the shadows.

Your eyes flicked away as you spotted a woman and her child, about to turn a corner and walk smack dab into the burglars. You groaned internally, silently wishing that people weren’t so foolish.

Soundlessly, you leapt from the roof to the alleyway below, taking in the scene. You’d been planning on incapacitating them from above, but that wasn’t an option anymore.

The civilians turned the corner, coming upon the men. The woman gasped, taking a step back and tugging her child so that he was hidden behind her. The men noticed the movement, and now each held a handgun, aiming at the family.

Before you had a chance to react, there was a crash and their guns were gone, Hood having knocked them unconscious. He glanced at the civilians, who were frozen in shock, then turned his gaze to you, still hidden in the alley. He stared at you for a few seconds before bolting, leaving you to deal with scared civilians and unconscious thieves.

You had sighed, stepping into the street to take care of it.

You came across him several times in the past few weeks. He was annoying, always screwing up your plans and making you fix his mess. The Gotham News had gotten more pictures of you in the past four weeks than they had in the past four years. Now nobody could deny that you were in fact real, and that was not the way you liked it. It was driving you insane.

As you turned off the tv and threw away the empty pizza box, you mulled everything over. It didn’t make any sense. Every week, a news article came out about Red Hood, the newest and most interesting of Gotham City’s crazies. He killed people. He was bad. Yet you’d seen him save people, and he even spared the bad guys. You’d never once seen him actually take someone out.

You yawned, climbing into bed. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad, but you could figure it out tomorrow.

——

Swinging from the top of one building to another, you crouched, reaching your target. You’d finally decided to confront him after mulling it over for a couple of days.

He was leaning against the roof access, helmet off, one hand holding a cigarette to his lips. He still wore a mask underneath his helmet, which was quite odd. His mop of black hair was slightly curly and had a silvery-white streak across the front. He wore black cargo pants and an armored shirt, along with a brown leather jacket that had the sleeves scrunched up. You could see tiny white scars along his forearms, each no doubt holding a different story. What struck you as the most interesting, though, was the bat symbol plastered across his chest. It made everyone think he was one of them. But he wasn’t.

“Ahem.” You tensed, and then blushed. You hadn’t actually gotten a chance to take a good look at him until now, and you’d been gawking. “You just going to stare, ghostie?” You stepped out into the light, arms crossed and shoulders set.

“You really do take after him, y’know, with the whole ‘I am vengeance, I am the night’ routine.” He smirked, tossing the cigarette onto the ground and smothering it with his foot. You grimaced.

“I am not the Batman. If you want to get acquainted with him, then I’m sure you could find him somewhere out on the streets.” You stood still, watching him run a hand through his tousled hair and lean back against the wall.

“Cut the crap. Why are you here? We aren’t friends, remember.” You scoffed, walking over until you were a few feet in front of him. The moonlight hit his face differently from this angle, accentuating all of the sharp edges and curves that defined it.

You blinked, realizing he was waiting for you to reply. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Who the hell do you think you are?” He raised his brows at that, then let out a chuckle.

“Haven’t you heard?” He drawled, playing with you. You growled, taking a step closer.

“No, why don’t you tell me? Tell why you’re on the news one day for putting eight heads in a duffel bag, and stopping a gunman from shooting up a bank the next.” You took a step with each heated remark, getting closer. “Tell me why you plastered that symbol on your chest when the last thing you wanna do is be associated with the bat. Tell me why you keep waving that gun around and threatening to shoot anything that breathes when I haven’t seen you kill anyone once. Tell me why I should be so damn scared of the big, bad, Red Hood, when I haven’t seen him fulfill any of his big, bad, threats,” you finished, jabbing a finger into the middle of his chest. His jaw tightened, a vein in his neck pulsing. Suddenly, your chest was being pushed against the brick wall, one arm bent behind your back and the other held in place above your head.

“I’ll tell you why,” he rasped, his breath hot and heavy on your ear. You clenched your jaw, face heating up at the closeness. “I’m not like you, or Batman, I’m a bad guy. And bad guys do bad things.” His grip on your wrists tightened and you hissed as a white hot pain flashed through them. He must’ve hit some sort of pressure point, even though there were none that you knew of.

“Liar,” you breathed, bringing your foot up in between his legs and nailing his groin. He fell back in surprise and pain, grunting. It gave you enough time to swing him to the ground and straddle his torso, holding his wrists at his sides. “What do you really want?” He scowled at you, balling his hands into fists.

“That’s my business, ghostie.” You arched a brow, releasing his wrists and crossing your arms.

“My city, my business.” When he grinned, a tiny dimple appeared in his left cheek. Of course, you didn't have long to look before you were being flipped, him now straddling you. He held your hands above your head again, and you struggled for a couple of seconds before going limp. There was no way you were getting out of this one, for you didn’t see yourself getting free from his rock hard thighs.

“Now, we both know that isn’t true. This is Batman’s city, and you’re just following his orders like the rest of them,” he taunted, a smug smirk on his face. You snarled, fighting against the grip once again.

“I don’t follow anyone’s orders but my own.”

“That’s what you’d like to think.” He winked, and then he was off of you and gone in seconds, only pausing to grab his helmet. You huffed, getting up and peering around the city from above. There were no signs of him, only the orange-pink tint of the skyline. You ground your teeth together. You didn’t know why it bothered you so much, but you would find out who that man was.

[searchingwardrobes]

Guess what tomorrow is, everyone? @thislassishooked​​ ‘s birthday! I apologize for having to post this a day early, sweetie, but I was afraid I wouldn’t have time tomorrow with the holiday. It’s funny that your birthday falls on Thanksgiving this year because I am incredibly thankful for YOU. Thank you for following my writing, including my book, and just being a kind person. I hope your day is fantastic!

First, this fic was inspired by the Switchfoot song “This is Home” which was written for the movie Prince Caspian. Narnia plus Switchfoot is like a dream for me, lol. This song also reminds me of Emma, and I feel it expresses her inner conflict over accepting Storybrooke as home.

This is also kind of a fix-it fic for the season six finale. I didn’t hate the entire episode - I liked parts of it - but I felt there were opportunities that were wasted. One was for Killian to actually use that bean to get to Emma. My husband and I BOTH were yelling at the tv - drop the bean! - as Killian fell from the beanstalk. Then my husband was like, “um, he’s got the bean, use it! If it was my honeymoon, I’d be getting to you ASAP, babe.” It was cute, really ;) So anyway, here’s my fix-it for your birthday @thislassishooked​​ !

Summary: It’s the season six finale, and Emma has gone back to her old apartment in Boston. The problem is, she keeps feeling like she’s forgotten something. Something important. Then there’s a knock on her door . . .

i.e. how I wanted the episode to go

Rating: G

Words: about 1,500

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging the usuals:@snowbellewells @jennjenn615 @kday426 @let-it-raines @teamhook@kmomof4 @bethacaciakay @profdanglaisstuff @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @tiganasummertree@whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @distant-rose@shireness-says @xhookswenchx​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @branlovestowrite​ @welllpthisishappening​ @hollyethecurious​ @stahlop​ @scientificapricot​

I've got my memories / always inside of me / but I can't go back / back to how it was /I believe you now / I've come too far / No I can't go back / Back to how it was

Created for a place I've never known

“Hook!” David yells as Killian loses his grip on the vine he’s clutching. The beanstalk sways, sending Killian hurtling through the air. The ground is rushing towards him too fast, so he does the only thing he can think of: he tosses the bean in his hand and thinks of Emma.

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

Emma Swan stands in the middle of her old Boston apartment, unsure what to do next. Well, it’s not actually her old apartment, it’s two floors up, but the floor plan is exactly the same. The furnishings are slightly different, but it should still feel much more familiar than it does. Her landlord had been shocked to see her, as if she’d fallen off the face of the earth or something. She supposes she did skip out on him three years ago, but she’d sent a rent check religiously until her lease ran out. She wasn’t surprised that he’d rented out her old unit; it’s a nice complex, fully furnished. She’s lucky this one was available.

Still she stands there, like a person who’s forgotten her keys. Her hand hovers to her throat, like she’s reaching for something. She keeps doing that, or clutching her left hand. There’s also this dread in her chest that she’s forgotten something important, like when you realize in a panic that you aren’t sure you unplugged your curling iron. Only ten times worse.

It must be that she’s missing Henry, or at least that’s what she keeps telling herself. Of course, right on the heels of that she reminds herself that leaving is what’s best for him. Maybe now Henry will let go of this fantasy of his. So why does she feel weirdly homesick? All Storybrooke had been was a constant battle with Fiona and a stay in a mental institution. It was never home . . . right?

Emma startles when there’s a knock on the door, and she frowns as she goes to open it. She has no friends in Boston, never did, really. As she reaches for the door knob, she can’t help remembering opening this door for Henry three years ago.

The door swings open, and on the other side is an incredibly attractive man. His eyes, which are intensely blue, brighten when he sees her, and a smile fills his face. Emma’s breath catches in her throat, but it’s more than his looks. She narrows her eyes as she regards him.

“Hello, lass, I . . . wanted to introduce myself to the building’s newest tenant. I’m Killian Jones.”

He offers his right hand for her to shake, and Emma notices the way he keeps his left tucked tight against him. “Emma Swan,” she says, taking the offered hand.

“Swan . . . “ he repeats, his voice a little sad.

A shiver courses through her where their hands are clasped. “I’m sorry, but have we met before?”

He gives a small chuckle and nervously scratches behind his ear. When he does, she notices what looks like a wedding band, but that can’t be. It’s on his right, not his left. Still, for some reason, the sight of it pulls at her.

“Yes, lass, we have.”

Emma searches his eyes, and that feeling that she’s lost something pulls at her again. “Where?” It comes out in a whisper.

He laughs again. “I’m afraid that’s a rather complicated question for us.”

It’s a strange answer, yet Emma isn’t surprised by it, nor is she at all suspicious of this man. “Maybe you could explain it to me,” she finds herself saying. “I know a good coffee shop around the corner.”

“That sounds wonderful, love.”

He offers her his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman as they walk, and Emma takes it. It’s the one he’d been keeping tucked against him at her door, and she looks down at the end of his left arm to see that the hand there is stiff and unnatural. She lets go of his elbow to take it in hers, coming to a dead stop on the sidewalk.

“This isn’t right,” she tells him softly.

“Because I should have a hand?”

She looks up, blinking. This entire day has been so strange. “No, that wouldn’t be right either.”

“What would be right, Emma?”

A bolt of familiarity rushes through her instantly followed by a stab of fear. She hurriedly drops his prosthetic hand and strides towards the coffee shop door.

“Here we are!” she announced a bit too brightly.

They order, then Emma takes a seat near the window. Killian stops at the counter where they keep the cream and sugar, and when he joins her he has a shaker of cinnamon tucked in his left elbow. He sits and slides it across to her. She takes it and shakes some on the whipped cream that tops her cocoa. Her hand stills as she sets it back down, suddenly struck that the two of them just did that by rote. LIke it was a habit, a ritual they’ve done many times.

She lifts her gaze to study his face as he takes a sip of his coffee, and suddenly she knows where she’s seen those eyes before: in Henry’s book as it burned. Her eyes land on his prosthetic.

“It should be a hook,” she whispers.

Killian’s head snaps up, his eyes widen. “Yes?”

Emma’s heart is beating wildly in her chest. “Is that a wedding band on your right hand?”

“It is.”

“Where’s your wife?”

His face softens as the moment stretches between them. “Well, I’ve lost her, you see. I’m trying to get back to her.” He smiles gently. “But in our family we always -”

“ - find one another,” Emma finishes for him.

“Emma?” he asks tentatively, reaching across the table for her hand.

“Yes?”

“Can I give you something?”

All she can do is nod slowly. Time seems to have slowed down, like the ticking of a clock is thrumming in her brain. He reaches into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out a ring. He lifts her left hand with his prosthetic and slides the ring onto her finger. Emma gasps and remembers Henry’s description of the wedding on the roof.

“It was real,” she whispers in awe.

Killian rises quickly from his chair and comes around to kneel in front of her. “Emma? Do you remember?”

She turns to him and reaches out a trembling hand to trace his jaw. “I think I’m starting to.” She cups his face with both hands and leans forward. She presses her lips to his, her eyes falling shut, and the moment she does, a wind rushes around her. Suddenly, like a bolt of electricity, it all comes back to her.

“Killian!” she cries, flinging herself into his arms and peppering his face with kisses.

He laughs and surges to his feet, holding her tight. “You remember, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I do!” she laughs in return, then yanks him closer to kiss him again. This time, she does so with passion and heat, slipping her tongue past his lips and drinking him in. He kisses her back with equal fervor. They’re making a scene, but neither of them care.

When they part Emma smiles, tears glistening in her eyes as she runs her fingers along his cheeks and thumbs his lips. She can’t stop touching him.

“Wow,” she finally laughs, “you were much more patient this time.”

“Well, the last time I wasn’t, and I got a knee to my privates.”

Emma laughs and kisses him again. “Where did you go? How did you find me?’

“We ended up back in the Enchanted Forest. Your father and I climbed that bloody beanstalk again to get a bean.”

Her eyes widen. “You and Dad on the beanstalk? Sounds like quite the adventure.”

Killian runs his fingers through her hair, then cups her cheek. When he speaks, his voice is thick. “I had to get back to my wife.”

Emma chokes back tears herself. “I love the sound of that, husband.”

He kisses her again, and she wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers going to their favorite spot in his hair. When they part again, breathless, he presses his forehead to hers.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

The pleasant bubble they are in shatters, however, when a thought suddenly pierces her brain. “Henry! He’s with that bitch, the Black Fairy! We’ve got to -”

“Slow down, love,” Killian soothes her, rubbing her upper arms gently, “we’re going to stop her.”

Emma releases a long, shaky breath and grasps his hand and prosthetic tightly. “Right.”

“So,” Killian tells her with a brush of lips to her cheek, “let’s go home, Mrs. Jones.”

She leans into his shoulder as he guides her out the door. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

This is home / Now I'm finally back to where I belong /Where I Belong /Yeah, this is home /I've been searching for a place of my own /Now I've found it /Maybe this is home /This is home