#the sides of his hair can be quiet challenging too ESPECIALLY IN 3/4 GOD

[quasarifxxy]

I don't think you've witnessed all horrors as a Buddy Daddies stan if you haven't tried drawing Kazuki Kurusu's hair

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Forever

One Shot: One More

Intro: How much meaning can two words actually carry?

Warnings: Language! Smut (NSFW) No under 18s

Pairings: Steve Rogers and Katie Stark (Rogers)

A/N: So this was a little idea that came to me when a friend and I were drunkenly discussing how many things you could cover simply with the words “one more.” So, here we have it in a few different contexts…and one big one! And this edit, well, if doesn’t melt your heart then you don’t have one! Thanks @angrybirdcr​

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

WARNING: If you are reading Stark Spangled Banner for the first time as it is being reposted and have not yet read it through then this contains MAJOR SPOILERS!!!!!

Stark Spangled Forever Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 April 2026.

“James Anthony Samuel Rogers I swear to God you push your sister like that again and there’s no Baseball or Soccer practice for a month!” Steve glared at his son as he picked his 23 month old daughter up from the floor.

“She started it!” the 6 year old met his glare straight back.

“One more excuse, try me!” Steve glared at him, and he should have known better when all was considered as true to form his son took his words as a challenge.

“She smashed up my lego house!”

“Yeah, and you used to smash up our actual house when you were her age.” Steve pointed at him as Aurora buried her face into the crook of his neck, sobbing loudly. Steve gently shushed her as he looked down at Jamie “you’re bigger and stronger than she is, you don’t push her or hurt her in anyway, you got that? If she’s annoying you, you come find me or your ma.” Jamie looked up at his dad for a second, before he looked down, his wrong behaviour understood “Sorry Dad.” “It’s not me you should be apologising to.” Steve said, his voice softening slightly.

Jamie looked up, his blue eyes full of tears and Steve’s heart sank. He hated seeing his kids like this but he knew he had to tell them off when they misbehaved.

“Sorry Rori.” Jamie sniffed.

Rori turned her head to face him leaving a stream of snot and drool hanging from Steve’s shoulder as she eyed up her brother.

“MkayJay…” she sniffed and she leaned forward holding her arms out to him. Steve dropped her to the floor and she toddled across to his open arms and gave her elder brother a hug. Steve smiled as he watched them, despite the fact she bugged the crap out of him Jamie would do anything for his baby sister. Steve knew that.

He also knew that it was only fair Rori got chastised for her part in the argument. So he crouched down in front of them both and he looked at her.

“Aurora, you don’t touch Jamie’s toys unless he says you can ok?” he said to her, firmly but not angrily “You have enough of your own to play with.”

Or destroy as the case may be Her big green eyes, so like her mothers looked back and him and she nodded, looking down at the carpet, suitably chastised, her voice quiet “ok daddy” “Good girl.” He smiled, brushing her brunette hair off her face. When she looked back he was pleased to see both of them were smiling again. Crisis averted, discipline delivered… “Cookie?” Rori asked hopefully and Steve sighed. He and Katie had been hoping that she would have slightly less of an appetite than her brother but no. The serum was as much a part of her as it was him. He glanced at his watch and seeing it was almost 4:30 pm he knew Katie would be home any time and he had just started their dinner before world war 3 had broken out in the living room. So as far as cookies went he really shouldn’t… “One.” He relented “but you better eat your dinner. And don’t tell momma.” He held out his hand. Aurora slipped her small palm into his and they headed into the kitchen, Jamie following.

There were no more tantrums or arguments that evening, just a small plea from Jamie as he tried desperately  to avoid going to bed at his 9pm weekend curfew      “Just one more please Momma and then I’ll go to bed I swear” he said from his spot sat in between Katie’s legs in front of her on the piano stool. Katie sighed and looked at Steve who leaned in the doorway of the smaller lounge at the back of the house and cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrows before he shrugged. “One more…” she relented and Jamie clapped his hands as she placed her fingers onto the keys of the piano in front of her, Jamie lying his hands on the top of his mom’s. He wasn’t interested in learning to play, not really. Baseball and soccer were his things, but he enjoyed this, the alone time with his momma and dad that the two parents tried to ensure each of their younger kids got fairly (Emmy being far too old for any of that ‘mushy shit’ now) Katie’s hands flew over the keys and her soft voice gently filled the room as she sang, Jamie joining in after giving her a little grin when he recognised what she was playing. “I wanna be where the people are I wanna see Wanna see ‘em dancing Walking around on those…”

She stopped playing and looked down at Jamie playfully “What do you call ‘em?” “Feet!” Jamie said, holding his leg up. Steve let out a soft smile at the display of playfulness and affection between his wife and son as Katie laughed and carried on with the song. Eventually they finished and without protest Jamie turned to his mom and placed his arms round her neck. “Night Momma. I love you.” “Love you too baby boy. I’ll be up soon to tuck you in when you’ve finished your story ok?” He jumped down from the bench and headed over to his dad who gently guided him out of the room with a large, gentle hand on the back of his head. As he turned to go he cast a look over his shoulder as Katie stood up, closing the lid on the American Walnut finished Bösendorfer 155 baby grand piano he had bought her for her 40th. She turned to face him, and shyly smiled in the same way she always did when she caught him looking at her the way he was right then, the expression on his face soft, conveying just how much he loved her and it still knocked her off her feet. “You’re beautiful.” He said softly as she brushed past him in the doorway. “Charmer” she smiled as he captured her lips in a soft kiss before giving her ass a friendly squeeze with both his palms before he headed off after Jamie for their usual bed time stories. A father-son routine that Steve hoped Jamie wasn’t gonna grow out of any time soon.

A story about 1920s Gangsters later Steve bid Jamie goodnight and strode over the landing to Rori’s bed room. He picked up the stuffed bear that had fallen out of her toddler bed and, tucking it in next to her, he straightened the covers around his daughter’s chin and dropped a kiss to her head.  “Sweet dreams Princess” he said, standing up and turning off the lamp, flicking the pony night light on. “You know when they’re in bed I actually understand why we had them.” He chuckled gently as he entered the kitchen where Katie was unloading the dishwasher. Katie laughed softly  “They’re good kids really.” “I know.” Steve’s arms circled her waist “What time is Emmy back?” “You told her midnight…so probably about 5 past.” she grinned. “She text me before, she’s fine. Pete took her to a burger joint and they were just about to go into the movies…” “Better not be on the back row” Steve grumbled. “She’s 18 Steve.” Katie laughed before she sighed. “They’re all growing up so fast” “You not fancy one more?” He asked, his nose brushing against her jaw. Katie stilled and turned her head to face him. “I’m 42, still carrying extra pounds from Rori. And trust me when I say after her birth, I have no desire to push a baby out of my vagina ever again” Steve laughed loudly, his head tipping back as he did so. “Just a thought” he said, kissing the side of her neck before he straightened up. “You fancy a glass of wine?” “Getting me drunk will not make me agree to having another baby…” Katie sly eyed him as he opened the wine chiller and pulled out a bottle of Sancerre. Steve rolled his eyes “That’s not what I was trying to do… I thought seeing as they’re asleep, its Friday…we could sit outside by the fire pit and take some us time. Maybe I can make some loving on my baby momma.” She smiled and slipped her arms round his waist, standing on her tip toes to give him a kiss. “Sounds perfect daddy, let me just go tuck Jamie in and I’ll be with you.” *****

June 2026

Steve looked at his wife, simply smiling as she talked. It wasn’t often they got out like they had done before the kids, but tonight they were out for a meal and a few drinks for her birthday. She looked stunning. Her hair was curled loosely, hanging to one side over her right shoulder, her eyes were highlighted even more by the light brown shimmer that sat on her lids and her lips were plump and glossed with a soft, almost neutral pink. It reminded him a lot of how she had looked on her first date. Similar, but yet slightly different. A bit like them really. They weren’t radically different but everything they had been through, seen, done, becoming parents…it had made them evolve in a way but Steve’s heart still burst with pride and lust and love whenever he looked at the woman sat in front of him. Yes she had changed physically over the years. Taught lines of muscle had given way to softer curves over her stomach and thighs, her hips were bigger- not much- but it only served to emphasise her small waist even more. The curve of her ass was more pronounced as was her chest, both of which Steve was more than happy about, especially tonight as they were emphasised even more by the tight black cut off capris she was wearing, low cut shimmering gold top and high heels that made her shapely legs look even more toned. And right now he was imagining them hooked around his shoulders… “Are you even listening to me?” She sat back, glass of crisp white wine in her hand, a teasing smile on her face. He looked beyond gorgeous. Short, dark beard flecked with grey, strands of his short hair also Iightening slightly. His black long sleeved sweater which although loose did nothing to hide his still ridiculously toned physique underneath. He was deep in thought, but relaxed, she could see that from the way he sat. His elbow was leaning on the table, chin resting gently in his hand, his fore and middle fingers making an L shape against his cheek as his thumb gently brushed against the beard underneath his chin. She raised her eyebrows silently requesting an answer and he took a deep breath, and cocked his head slightly more to the left, eyes crinkling even further as he suppressed a chuckle because he had been caught, red handed.  “Sorry baby I was just thinking.” “You were miles away.” She said softly, leaving forward “what’s going on Soldier” He loved how she still called him that. And right then it made him want to bend her over the table and fuck her senseless. He squirmed slightly and picked up his wine glass, leaving back in his chair “Just thinking about you, how lucky I am…how gorgeous you are…” his voice dropped as he arched an eyebrow “and the things I’m intending on doing to you tonight.” They headed to a bar and bumped into Marcus and his brother, Allan, two of the guys who had religiously attended Steve’s support groups pre and post snap. Marcus gleefully told then that his wife, one of the returned, was expecting their first baby, news which both Katie and Steve had greeted with congratulations and a bottle of Don Perignon As they chatted and laughed with their friends, Katie was very aware of how tactile Steve was being. A hand on her back, skimming her ass every now and then, squeezing her hip, soft kisses to her temple and cheek.. it was all driving her wild so after an hour or so in the bar, when he asked if she was ready for home she greeted him with an affirmative nod. He held out her jacket for her, hands skimming the bare skin on her shoulders making her shiver. They bid their friends goodbye and headed out, hand in hand to hail a cab. Katie stole a glance at her husband, the father of her children and a fire lit in her belly. She had never loved anyone as much as she loves him. He wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. But they accepted each others faults as much as they loved each others better traits. He was an affectionate and loving man, both with her and their kids. Firm but fair and never shied away from lavishing affection on any of them. And then, in the dimly lit back seat if that yellow New York cab as it headed over Brooklyn Bridge something stirred in both her heart and her mind. She leaned over to him and gently nuzzled her nose into his neck, breathing in his aftershave. He gave an involuntary shiver and moved his arm around her shoulder as her nose now moved over the short whiskers that adorned his jaw and cheeks up to his ear where she whispered. “One more…” He turned to her, his eyes shining as he looked at her, smiling softly. “You sure?” He asked, barely able to believe it. She placed a soft kiss to his lips and whispered into his mouth. “Yeah, I’m sure.” It was all Steve could do to keep himself from jumping her there and then but somehow his will power held out. Once home, Emmy had simply raised her eyebrows when they had popped their heads into the lounge and told her and Peter not to stay up to late, and then rolled her eyes when Steve had pointedly told Peter the spare room was the 1st door on the right after you climbed the stairs. Closing the door to the lounge, Steve slung his wife over his shoulder causing her to giggle as he carried her upstairs, dropping her gently on her feet in the bedroom when she exclaimed she needed to pee. Steve shrugged off his sweater and was midway into undoing his trousers when she emerged from the bathroom, her pants in her hand, leaving her clad in just that delectable top and underwear. He felt his cock twitch at the sight of her almost naked ass and long legs. As she walked past, heading to the laundry basket in the corner of the room,  Steve looped both arms round her waist and pulled her discarded clothes from her hands, dropping them to the floor. He tugged her back into him, his hands gripping the hem of her top before he pulled it over her head, hands setting on her hips as she rolled her head back against his shoulder so he could lightly graze her skin with his lips.  Her hands gently moved between them as she undid the clasp on her bra and Steve slid the straps down, placing soft kisses to each of her shoulders causing her to shudder as he tossed that to the floor too. His palms flattened on her stomach as her arms slid up and connected round the back of his neck, pushing her chest up and he gave moan as he glanced down and saw her presented to him. One of his large hands crept into the front of her lace briefs, the other up to her chest, gently tweaking and playing with her as he saw fit, lips skating over her neck. “So beautiful…” he whispered and she moaned and writhed in delight at his praise and his actions as he worked her over “such a good girl for me…” Her head fell back even further into him as she let out a soft whimper of his name, his hands upping their pace slightly as she began to buck into his touch. She arched her back, her mouth fell open and then her head rolled forward as she came, knees trembling, her hands pulling at his hair. He held her up in his strong arms and whilst she was still in the after throws of bliss he nipped at her neck, drawing a soft groan from her mouth. “Gonna fuck a baby into you…” he said, lips hot on her ear “fill you up, see you all round with my child again…that what you want?” “Please…” she sighed, “Please put a baby in me, Daddy…”   His hands fell to her hips and he spun her round, lips crashing to hers almost bruisingly before he walked her backwards, her knees colliding with the bed as she fell back wards, Steve crawling over the top of her. His lips skated down from her mouth, to her neck, between the valley of her breasts and to her naval where his nose skimmed across the waistband of her panties. He hooked his fingers into the top and slid them down over her thighs, a hot kiss dropping to her ankle. His beard scratched her soft skin as he nipped his way up her leg, before setting his mouth to her. He licked, sucked, bit as she keened into him, her hands tangling into his hair as she writhed and groaned, trying but failing to keep her noise down. It wasn’t long before he’d gotten her there again and as she fell back, panting slightly he crawled over her, ridding himself of the remainder of his clothes as he did so. His hands placed either side of her head, he dropped his mouth to her ear and kissed just underneath before he whispered “I know you got one more in you baby…” as he pushed into her, the pair of them groaning at the sensation.

And she did. As he thrust into her powerfully, her hands skated up his arms to hi back, nails dragging down his skin. It was an assault on her senses, and as he continued to love her in a way only he could, the heat was rising again and she found herself teetering on the edge.

“That’s my girl…” Steve panted out as she arched her back and came again, this one leaving her utterly shattered. Steve wasn’t far behind her, releasing inside of her before they both collapsed, utterly boneless and melted completely into the bed beneath them. Her hands gently tangled into his hair and he lazily picked his head up and gave her a soft kiss, his nose rubbing up against hers.

“I love you baby girl.” he said softly, lips pressing against hers.

“Love you too…” she whispered into his mouth.

***** February 2027 Katie glanced down at the small, white stick in her hands. She inhaled sharply as she glanced at the result and tears filled her eyes as she stood up from the toilet where she had been sat on the lid, waiting for those precious last few seconds to pass.

Her mind strayed to the conversation they had held on Christmas eve little over 6 weeks prior…

“You know… it’s kind of ironic” Katie sighed as she nestled into Steve further, her head on his chest as the arm round her gently traced shaped on her side, under her jumper. “What is?” He asked, although he had a feeling he knew what was wrong. She sat up and looked at him, her eyes sad. “We’ve been trying for our little one more ow for 6 months. Doing everything right and…” she took a deep breath “maybe I just can’t anymore. I’m sorry Steve” “Hey.” He frowned, shifting so he was looking at her as she blinked, trying to stop the tears from falling “You have nothing to apologise for.” “I just know how much you wanted this and…” “Stop.” He said almost sternly as he gently cupped her face in his hands “we already have 3 beautiful kids. I don’t want you feeling like this” He hated it. Hated the fact he felt like he had backed her into this in a way. She was feeling inadequate and she was anything but. “I wish you’d told me you felt like this sooner.” He said softly, and she shrugged as he pulled her face to meet his in a soft, tender kiss. “One more try.” He rest his forehead against hers, his decision made “One more month and we forget it. I’m not having you feeling like this anymore baby. I love you too much to see you hurting ok?” She nodded and smiled gently, her hand reaching up and her fingers gently scratching through his beard. He closed his eyes and then her lips were on his, pulling him down on top of her on the couch, the movie on the tv completely forgotten as they lost themselves in each other again, moans and sighs filling the softly lit room.   No more tries. “Honey?’ Steve called later that evening, his keys dropping to the table in the hall as he greeted their now, very elderly dog, before he headed into the kitchen. She was sat at the table, eating dinner in between watching Aurora feed herself. Jamie was tucking into his food with gusto as both kids beamed at their daddy who greeted them both in turn. “Hi.” Katie smiled softly at him, taking the kiss he offered on her cheek “dinner is in the oven” “Sorry I’m late.” He said “ the faculty meeting went on a bit longer than I thought and then we got caught discussing the next semester…” “Steve it’s fine.” She assured him, taking a drink of her soda, eyes still on her fiercely independent daughter who probably had more spaghetti round her face than in her stomach. “How was your day son?” He asked once he had grabbed his plate and settled into the seat next to him at the oak table. “Ok.” Jamie shrugged. “Ok?” Katie looked at him “more than ok sweetie, tell your dad what you got in class!” “Oh I got the class weekly gold star for my art” he said, excitement flooding his tone. “No way!” Steve beamed at him, he loved the fact his son had inherited his talent “for the sketch you did of the planets?” Jamie nodded as he smiled. “Proud of you buddy” he said, ruffling his hair as Jamie’s grin at his fathers praise practically split his face in half. A few hours later both kids were in bed, they’d skyped Emmy who was just getting ready to go to a party in one of the dorms, something Steve wasn’t feeling all too comfortable about, and were heading up to bed. Steve was just about to make his way into the bathroom for a shower when Katie stopped him. “I have something to tell you.” She said softly before she opened the drawer at the side of her bed and with a sigh she pulled out the test. Steve felt his heart sink as she turned around and held it out to him. “Baby don’t be upset.” He said softly, as he took it, giving it a cursory glance “we agreed that if it didnt…” He trailed off and looked again. 2 blue lines. 2. “Oh my…shit.. Katie…” he looked up at her, his face shocked before he gave out a splitter of a laugh and grabbed her hips, swinging her up in the air. She laughed as he set her in her feet, giving her a soft kiss “You sure?” He asked, wanting to believe it but not daring to at the same time “Maybe you should do one more to be sure?” With a smirk she turned and reached into the drawer and began to toss test after test on the bed. 10 in total, including the one still in Steve’s hand. “Way ahead of you there soldier” “You’re incredible…” he said, tossing the plastic stick onto the bed and pulling her closer “My fucking incredible…” kiss “amazing…” kiss “ gorgeous” kiss “baby momma…” This time when his lips met hers she wrapped her arms round his neck and held him in place whilst she kissed him hard, deep, passionate before she pulled away, her fingers felt tracing his t-shirt clad chest “you mentioned something about a shower…” Grinning his hands slid under her ass and she laughed as he hauled her up, legs wrapping round his waist as he walked them into the en-suite.

***** May 2027 Steve woke first that morning. Gently pressing a kiss to Katie’s cheek he left her asleep, climbing out of the bed and heading into the bathroom. Once he’d seen to his bladder, he pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and headed out onto the landing.

He poked his head into Jamie’s room first, and his son grinned at him as he turned his eyes from the TV onto his father. Lucky jumped down from is spot on Jamie’s bed and headed over to Steve for an ear scratch.

“Morning buddy.” Steve looked at his son.

“Morning dad…you making breakfast?” Food, as always the first thing on his mind.

Steve nodded and Jamie scrambled out of bed, following him as he next headed to Rori’s room. She was still asleep so he left her to it. Finally he knocked on Emmy’s door and she told him to come in.

“Hey…” he frowned as he saw her on her bed, surrounded by text books “its early Sunday…you got work to do?”

“Studying.” She grumbled.

“Ok well, take a break yeah? I’m gonna start breakfast”

“I’ll be down in a minute.” She hummed at him and he nodded, closing the door.

Steve opened the back door to let Lucky out whilst Jamie sat at the table with a yawn as Steve set the coffee going and poured Jamie an orange juice.

“Thank you.” He said as he set it down in front of him “Dad?”

“Yeah pal?”

“What was Momma asking you for one more of last night?”

Oh…fuck…

Steve felt himself go bright red, as he could clearly remember exactly what Katie had been begging him for more of.

“Erm…” he turned away, cursing inwardly as he glanced around desperately trying to think of an answer Jamie would buy. “I…er….” he reached into the cupboard for the bread, and then the answer suddenly hit him in the face

“Chocolate!” He practically exploded as his eyes fell on the jar of spread.

“Chocolate?” Jamie cocked his head to one side as Steve turned to face him. “In the middle of the night?”

“Yeah well, you know the baby makes her want it…like you made your mom want peanut butter and Rori made her want strawberries, this time she wants chocolate”

“Oh.” He said, nodding “Ok. Did you give her some?”

Steve was thankful that his son couldn’t see his face as he threw 4 slices of bread in the toaster. Pressing his lips together to try and stop the smirk on his face, because he had indeed given her some, so to speak, before he turned and nodded.

“Yup.” He said “Sure did…”

August 2027 “One more baby.” Steve urged, his wife’s hand tightly gripping his right, his left brushing her hair back off her face “One more honey, you got this.” With a loud yell and a final, almighty effort she sagged back on the bed as a piercing cry hit their ears. “You did it…” Steve said, his eyes welling up “I’m so proud of you, Darlin’, you did it…” She laughed through her tears as their baby was placed on her chest, cries giving way to soft wimpers which turned into those familiar nickering noises babies make as their newest addition pressed into his momma, pink and wrinkled, brown hair spattering his head, his eyes the same shape and colour as his fathers, but the Stark nose stood out clearly, just as it did with Jamie. Their little one more, Henry Steven Rogers, Harry for short, opened his eyes for the first time to reveal a shock of baby blue and Steve felt his heart swell even more. Out of all their kids he had been the easiest to name. Henry chosen by Steve, Steven picked by Katie, Harry agreed upon by both. There was no 3rd name. They didn’t have one they liked or felt drawn to and besides, in Katie’s eyes he didn’t need one, because his fathers was worth two. Something which had made Steve’s eyes fill with emotion when she had told him that. Harry was measured, weighed and returned to his father wrapped in a soft blue blanket as Steve preened over his latest progeny, another male to carry the Rogers name down the line. Eventually he began to fuss and was handed to his mother for his first feed, Steve settling in their bed, arm round Katie as he watched his son’s cheeks work hungrily. “I love you” he said gently, tilting Katie’s face round to his, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I love you too..” she smiled before they both looked down at their baby as he suckled on his mothers breast, tiny hand shaped in a fist which rest against her exposed skin. Steve gently traced his youngest son’s cheek with his finger, his chest felt like it was going to explode with emotion. After a few hours of being on their own with their baby boy, Katie having been cleaned up and Harry settled and changed and fed again, the peace of their hospital room was shattered. “There really should only be 4 visitors…” Steve heard the nurse say as the door hovered open a few inches. “Oh come on, what’s one more?” Sam’s voice pleaded. She must have acquiesced as the door opened further and their eldest and second eldest shot into the room, followed by Sam and Buck with their now second youngest held on his hip. “Oh Mom!” Emmy gushed, her large brown eyes shining as she looked down at her baby brother in her mothers arms whilst the men were exchanging back slaps and hugs “he’s beautiful” “Course he is” Steve replied, taking Rori and walking her to the bed so she could look at her baby brother “Your mom made him” Katie smiled up at Steve “You had something to do with it…” “The enjoyable bit.” We winked as Emmie moaned

“Gross..” Jamie climbed up onto the bed, his mum gently pushing down the blanket so he could see Harry’s face clearly. The sun was peeking through the blinds, the room was loud and crowded as their older kids aged 19, 7 and 3, and their friends- their brothers- took turns to hold and meet the newest addition to the Rogers family. Steve dropped a kiss to Katie’s head, the pair of them sharing a deliriously happy look.

“Thank you.” Steve said, resting his head against hers. “Thank you for this one more and for making me the happiest man alive”

[impossible-rat-babies]

first 20 lines meme

i got tagged by @coldshrugs tysm azia! tagging: @trvelyans, @zarneki, @rosykims, @forestcreatures, @starrypawz, @heartbrreak, @bitchesofostwick, @juniper-tree, @wayhavn, @pearlsandsteel​, and whomever else go for it !

The challenge is to list the first lines of your 20 latest fanfics. these’ll include wips too lol there’s some vague nsft stuff below the cut--nothing truly explicit in these though

1. prompt fill wip:

Rubble digging into Pollux’s shoulder blades, a heavy dead weight across his back pressing down on him. He winces, gritting his teeth and there’s just shallow breaths, ribs pressing painfully into the ground.

2. pollux finding out fic:

Mason curses as he breaks yet another cigarette and he tosses it into the trash, yanking out the old worn packaging for another one. Hands shaking, he takes a deep breath to steady himself and it works this time.

3. more shoe string french fry biting fic:

Pollux fishes another fry out from the little package of shoe strings, chewing slowly before he speaks: “You remember when I bit you?”

Ortega groans, shoulders hunching and the hood of the car once again protests under their weight. “You���ve bitten me no less than three times, Lux.” He reminds him and Pollux chews another couple of fries and swallows.

4. bathtub fic:

Pollux sinks lower into the water and for the first time in a long while, it’s quiet.

The faucet still drips, ripples spreading out until they hit his knees and he too lets them sink beneath the water--distorted and unclear.

5. the five feet apart because they’re not (gay)

Five feet.

A foot between him and the desk, another two and a half feet of desk, and then Grayson a foot and a half away. Might as well be miles and Pollux sniffs (again) picking at his thumbnail (again).

Five minutes.

Five minutes they’ve been sitting in silence. Nick is quiet too, but there’s a buzzing of anxiety whirling and twisting on itself that Pollux isn’t sure if it’s his own or just Nick. Probably both, if he’s being honest with himself.

6. nightmare/dropping the cups fic:

it’s too late to still be awake, Ortega thinks. He should be in bed with Pollux, instead he’s picking his way around the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of dinner neither of them bothered to deal with once they were done.

7. phone go brr fic:

it’s far too early when the distant sound of the factory standard phone chime beeps over and over again, drawing him out of sleep. The sun hasn’t even come up, Pollux squinting his eyes open to stare at the blue hour haze coming through the thin curtains.

8. pollux shaving his head panic attack rip:

4am and he’s stuck sitting on the lid of the toilet, hands shaking uncontrollably with what he knows is yet another panic attack, his upper back and diaphragm aching from the frantic breaths. It’s all muted under the sound of clippers, the buzz and the strain as he combs the blades through his curls, watching ringlet after ringlet fall to the white tiles. They’re cold beneath his bare toes and and oh god he can *feel* it—

Why do they have to be white tiles?

Cool air on the back of an open shift, shivering at the cold and indignity of it all, laying on his side and staring at the floor, large needle pressing against his lower back deeper, between vertebra and poking into his spine—

9. legit just some pwp

Pushed against the wall and Pollux gasps, Ortega’s lips immediately following to meet his again, open mouths and trying to breathe while kissing is incredibly difficult. Ortega pulls him closer and Pollux has to crane his neck to keep reaching his lips but he doesn’t mind the effort.

Pollux grasp his shirt, pulling on fancy buttons and silk to find skin, fingers running across his stomach, feeling Ortega’s breath catching.

10. don’t stop (color on the walls) 

It’s a clear night out tonight, the sky an endless dome stretching miles and miles overhead out into deep inky blackness bespectacled by freckled stars.

Pollux blows a stream of smoke out of his mouth and it drifts up and up until it dissipates and he wonders if any particles of the smoke will reach that impossibly high ceiling. If they’ll touch moon perched on the roof, staring down at him with her grey blue light.

11. thigh kisses thigh kisses pollux kissing thighs (nsfw)

Hands on his belt buckle, sliding the belt through the loops and its tossed onto the floor. Pollux’s hands work at the button and zipper, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed, knees trapping Ortega in close.

12. morning after stuff per usual lol

Pollux grumbles and grunts, hiking his pants up and over slim hips in a smooth motion, adjusting them around his waist once they’re buttoned and zipped up. His hip smarts a touch and he shift his weight from one foot to the other, rolling his ankle. It clicks like always does, his knee the same crackling as always.

13. more pwp bc. couches.

kissing a path down his erratically moving stomach and Pollux bites his trembling lip hard, head cocked at an awkward angle, shoulders pressed against the back cushion of the couch. Ortega’s hands gripping his hips, thumbs pressing into the divots of his hipbones and fuck he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how big Ortega’s hands are, how he holds him so tightly and so assuredly.

14. the twenty questions fic im never going to finish:

“Okay question one.”

“Question one?”

“Well yeah, this is how twenty questions goes.”

Incredulous and obnoxious is how this is going. And the chair is especially uncomfortable, the stupid molded plastic thing.

Charge has refused to meet in his office, saying it was too professional of an environment to get to know someone and Pollux wonders if there’s anything professional about the man. Well, beyond the very nice (and expensive no doubt) dress shirt and slacks, but even then the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

15. a follow up to our reflections 

Pain greets him when his eyes open and Pollux clenches his eyes shut once more, the screaming headache cut off suddenly at motions too fast for his battered brain and body. It quiets to a dull roar at the base of neck, spreading down across his shoulders with each breath.

He groans softly, but steady arms and hands find him, pulling him in close. Mason buries his face in his hair and Pollux tucks his face against his chest, hand smoothing out and across Mason’s ribs, feeling him breathe long and deep. Warmth seeping into his hand.

16. a wip i made happy without trying:

“Okay, okay now it’s your turn sweetheart. Worst fuck you’ve had.”

Pollux sighs and sits further back on Mason’s hips he’s straddled, crossing his arms and he fusses with a loose strand on his borrowed shirt. Pity that Mason is left shirtless, but he hasn’t complained yet.

“Okay fine...does it have to actually have been like, dick in...?”

“Nah.”

“Give me a minute then.”

“Wow that many?”

Pollux glances down and gives Mason a wicked glare, but the anger is tempered by the grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Mason grins back, hands running down the slope of Pollux’s back and down the curve of his thigh, fingers tucking against the back of his knees pressed against the mattress. He shivers at the motions, giving Mason a brief glance. 

17. hotel california

A haze creeps around the edges of Rabbit’s mind, a steady rise back to consciousness; details escape them, the haze of drowsiness like cotton between their ears and they blink slowly in the dim yellow light. The gibberish hum of a tv turned down low on the edge of their hearing, but they know the sound of the news anywhere--the monotone of a newscaster droning

18. the “i refuse to believe adam doesn’t go down” fic + trans rights

Jamie pulls his head back when he hears Adam’s knees hit the floor, the air cool against his heated skin as he pulls his sweats down with him. Adam leans in, scattering Jamie’s hips with kisses and little marks he knows will leave behind marks. He’ll be covered in them by time they’re done and Jamie’s trembling, biting his lip and staring down at Adam.

19. another i dunno i just wanted a different perspective fic

ringing—ears ringing. sharp pain in his jaw and work out the kinks, make sure nothing is broken. Nothing is broken—he knows the pain of broken bones and this doesn’t feel like it. Nothing crunches as he moves his arms, the world rapidly spinning back into focus.

20. our reflections:

Feet stumbling over each other, Pollux’s shoulder slams into the door and he curses loudly. Pain radiates down his arm and into his ribs, scattering across his shoulder blades and ending at the headache welling across his scalp. Breath catching, pain making his diaphragm stutter but he knows this well. Pause, close his eyes, lean against the door, and take a few deep breaths to ease the tightness.

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Care

Bilbo Baggins x Reader

Bilbo gets sick :(

Throughout your time with the company of Thorin Oakenshield and friends, you've been the epitome of health. Well rested, able to run on little food and water, somehow always pretty clean, not cold all the often, and the works. Basically, you're just a generally very healthy person. And luckily for everyone else, you've got a little experience in medicine.

So when Bilbo suddenly falls sick, you're the perfect person for the job. 

How did he get sick, you ask? Well...

One night during the trip after you went to bathe with Bilbo after everyone else was finished, you found that the water was quite a bit colder than you had been expecting. 

You typically bathed at the same time as the hobbit for three reasons. One, he is ever the gentleman and wonderful conversational partner. Two, he can't stand bathing at the same time as those rambunctious rascals just as much as you. And three, neither of you are allowed to go by yourself since it's not safe so you need a buddy anyways. You can most certainly hold your own in a fight, and you've said as much, but they have very specific customs when it comes to females (being as less than 1/3 of their entire population is actually female, they hold them in very high regard and protect them a bit too much) and Bilbo is basically useless with his sword. 

It was just a natural pair. 

Anyways, the water was especially chilly that evening and though the thought of bathing in such glacial water wasn't appealing in the slightest, going on dirty until the next stream was ever  less  appealing, so you sucked it up and got in anyway. 

You assume Bilbo felt the same way being as he complained a bit in the beginning, but other than a brief moment of displeasure, he showed no other signs of discontent. 

The two of you washed with your backs facing each other as always, and when you were both nice and clean, you got out and dried as much as possible for getting dressed again. Changing into the same dirty clothes does dampen the effects of just washing, but you're grateful that you have the opportunity to wash in the first place. 

When both of you were dressed and on your way back to the others, you noticed poor Bilbo had begun to shiver. You offered to give him your coat, but he only smiled shyly and said, "N-No, I'm quite alright. Thank you."

Yeah, he fuckin' lied. 

The next morning you are disturbed by the sound of someone sneezing less than a foot away from you. Now just one sneeze wouldn't usually bother you, but this mans over here didn't sneeze once, twice, or even thrice. He sneezes 4 times in a row, all consecutively and right next to you.

It jolts you awake, and you turn your head quickly to see who it is when your eyes fall upon poor red-face Bilbo huddled up beneath his blankets. 

You sit up sluggishly and push your blanket to the side, crawling over to his shivering and unwell form to see if he's running a fever or not. When you press the back of your hand to his forehead you recoil quickly at the heat that you feel. He's positively burning up. 

Very quickly you grab your blanket, crumple it up, then place it beneath his head to act as a pillow. After, you drag over your bag and begin to go through it. 

You take out your water skin and rip up one of your extra shirts and soak it with your water, then place the soaked fabric on his head to, hopefully, lower his temperature. 

"Miss Y/N?" Someone calls from behind you, "What are you doing?"

It's still rather dark out, so whoever it is must be the morning watch. 

You turn and see Ori who is sitting on a long by the edge of the big group in the middle. 

"Oh, Ori thank god!" You wave him over, and as soon as he approaches you hand him your now empty waterskin, "I need you to go fill this up right now. Bilbo has a fever, but I've run out of water." 

The young dwarf looks down at Bilbo worriedly then grabs the water holder you gave to him. "I'm on it." He runs off before you can say thank you. 

You turn back to Bilbo and gently pull his blanket off and begin to pull off his velvety red coat. 

The hobbit groans quietly and asks in a tired and weak voice, "What are you doing...?" His eyes open up a bit, but it seems to be quite the chore for him.

He seems to be pretty confused, so you give him a small reassuring smile and explain softly, "You're sick, Bilbo. I'm going to take off some of your layers so your fever doesn't rise, and I'm going to need you to drink lots of water." 

It appears he's too fatigued and unwell to even question what you're telling him, so he just nods and lets his eyes close again. 

With a little help from the blond hobbit, you finally manage to remove his jacket and begin to unbutton the front of his waistcoat. 

"Mahal, Y/N! What do you think you're doing?!" Someone yells next to you suddenly. 

God is everyone going to ask you that?

You glance back and see multiple confused, flustered, and uncomfortable eyes staring at you and Bilbo.

"If I had known I could get   those   kind of services from our healer, then-" 

"You don't want to finish that sentence." You say darkly, looking at the jokester with a gaze so intense and furious that he doesn't even finish his statement.

In an attempt to ignore their obviously impure thoughts, you snap, "If you think I'm trying to taint the honor of your burglar then rest assured that my intentions lay elsewhere!" You finish unbuttoning his waistcoat, then reach up and test the coolness of the rag on his head. "Our hobbit is sick, so either make yourselves useful or sod off and leave us be." Your intention was not to be so harsh, but their implications made your blood boil. 

"Y/N!" You hear Ori yell not too far off, "I've got the water!" 

You wave him over and take the water skin from him appreciatively, "Thank you, sweet boy. You're much more commendable than your companions considering your first reaction was wondering how you could   help  ." You can't help but take a jab at them for their inappropriate behavior and horribly distorted assumptions, but this only makes you like Ori even more.

The young dwarf blushes at your praise and term of endearment but doesn't say anything else.

"Bilbo, my dear I need you to drink some water..." You explain in a soft voice, waiting for his nod of assent to start helping him.

When he does consent to your assistance in helping him drink, you place your hand under his curly blond head and lift it up slowly, lifting the lip of the water skin to his mouth in sync with your other motions.

"Here you go..." You whisper just as softly, hoping not to stir a headache within him. 

He drinks the water in little sips, and when he pulls back you hand the water back off to Ori. "You're a doll, thank you. Where is Oin?" You ask abruptly, scooting forward and shifting to have Bilbo rest his head on your thighs so you can put your blanket to better use. 

"When I walked into camp I saw him running off, saying something about Athelas and, er Kingsfoil." 

"Okay, that's good. Kingsfoil and Athelas are the same thing. A healing plant." At least someone other than yourself and Ori has some sense in this damn company of buffoons. "You've helped me a great deal, Ori, so I give you my sincerest thanks." 

It seems all of your praise and thanks have successfully made his day because when he walks off there is a little hop in his step.

You focus back on the poor suffering hobbit laying in your lap, a sympathetic expression on your face, "I knew I should've given you my coat, you stubborn little hobbit." You reach up and brush his hair out of his face, then take the wet cloth and squeeze it out. Once it's mostly rid of the now warm water, you re-wet it and return it to his still hot forehead.

"I'm sorry..." He mumbles when you recall his denial of your extra layers from last night. "I thought I was fine, really." 

You shake your head, though he can't see it, and can't help the small smile that raises onto your face, "No, no sweetling don't apologize. Twas only a little bit of a rant. Please, just take a rest for me, alright?" 

He nods his head once and relaxes again. 

You run the back of your middle and forefinger down his cheek lightly, feeling slightly guilty that you didn't urge him to bundle up more last night. 

Thorin makes his way over to you eventually and settles next to you. He doesn't say anything at first, so you just ignore him and stay focused on the sick hobbit. 

"They meant not to offend you, Y/N. You know they think very highly of you." You still don't say anything, so he continues, "Of course, they should know better than to mess with such a fierce healer." 

"I know that...," you can tell he's trying to smooth things over, probably because of the rage you exerted when addressing the lot of them, and strangely it kinda works, "I let my anger get the best of me, I'm afraid. I hope I did not hurt anyone else's feelings." 

The dwarf chuckles at your concern for the feelings of the rest of them, "This is why you're a healer, I suppose, as opposed to an enforcer."

You look at him with confusion, not really picking up what he's putting down. "What?" 

"Your forgiving and benign nature never ceases to impress me. Your ethics were challenged while you attempted to help, and even though you lost your temper, you still managed to help our burglar and forgive those fools." He says fools fondly, showing that he doesn't actually mean to insult them, "We are honored to have you with us." 

With that, he stands and leaves you to take care of Bilbo once again. 

"He's right you know." Bilbo's quiet voice comes from below. 

You look down at him and see that his eyes are open and focused on you. "I thought I told you to rest." There is no accusation or annoyance in your voice, only concern and a bit of amusement. 

"Well, yes but I... It's hard to sleep on command I suppose."

His defense is flimsy and not that believable, but you accept it nonetheless. "Alright, alright. Don't worry about it then, you don't have to be asleep to get rest." 

You brush his hair up with your hand again and begin to lightly run your fingers through the shaggy mess of blond curls to get his mind off of the horrible feeling of sickness. 

Bilbo hums appreciatively and lets his eyes slide shut once more, relishing in this pampering (since this trip hasn't left much room for a lavish lifestyle)

[voidcat]

Intrusion

– 4: gone with a snap (wc: 1.9k)

prev ; next ; m.list

a/n: another filler. sorry i forgot to upload the other remaining intrusion chapters from ao3 to here,,, i’ll upload other two in the following days.

After that day out, everything seems to fall back into place and regain its old rhythm.

Except that Iwaizumi becomes a part of the said rhythm of your life now, conversing and interacting with him a lot easier and almost refreshing.

What he said about your view of people seeing you play plays on loop in your mind but in a way, it feels like a breaking point on your journey of friendship. It feels good to step outside your comfort zone once in a while.

It’s funny how sudden some changes can appear before someone.

The first school day since your little hang out and you’re awfully cheery. Waking up in a good mood, not cutting conversations short; not even a certain teacher’s discriminating opinions can burst your bubble.

Your friends notice the sudden change during your typical lunch meet up.

It starts with wondering where some of your friends are. Ever since the rearrangement, it feels harder and harder to stick together.

“I heard the MUN club is holding a meeting during lunch break.”

“Again? This is the 3rd time in the last two weeks. Can’t they do that after school?” Okemia’s sudden outburst catches you off guard and causes Etsuko to drop one of her cookies. Meanwhile Ayame is nodding approvingly, backing up Okemia as always.

“Yeah because every single club wants to create a gap between us and the boys.”

“Well, they could be! They might be planning for it right now and we would be none the wiser!”

“A little bit of a reach, don’t you think?” Koto says as she sits down. The rest agrees in silence.

Everyone finishing up with lunch and occasionally eyeing the distance in case anyone else shows up, time passes by like that. Leaning against the tree behind you, you start watching the blurry figures in the distance, eyeing the leaves once in a while and getting cozier.

Startled by the sudden poke by your ribs, you break out of your trance.

“And what about you? You have been awfully quiet lately…” You slowly turn to Okemia.

“Not that it’s bad!” She adds worriedly. “It’s good to see you feeling, better. But at least one of us is there to witness the reason behind it. So… Spill.”

“I- spill what?”

“It’s the one you saw this weekend, right? It has to be! What else could you have done without us that would cause such a-“ She moves her hand rather dramatically, all digits pointing at you. “-change. So, who is he?”

Here it comes.

“There is no ‘he’ if that’s what you are asking. I’m just feeling lighter for no particular reason.”

“Hey, no need to get defensive! Nothing wrong with having a crush now.” You can hear the teasing tone in Etsuko’s words.

“Uh… Wait! Have we had a hobbit day recently? We haven’t had a hobbit day recently! I think we should have one soon and do nothing but eat!” Your desperate attempts at changing the topic of discussion is acknowledge. You’re not sure you’ll be getting away for a second time.

“Last time was fun, except for the moment our literature teacher saw Ayame and I feed each other chocolate though.”

“That’s because you two aren’t as fast and experienced as us!” You pull Koto to your side a bit too harsh as you say these. She just puts her arm around you in support and Okemia rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, keep lying to yourself.”

Successfully avoiding the possible news of your crush, you all set a date for your next grand ‘feast’ and some of your friends start to talk and giggle about their crushes. You just go back to looking at the sky and zoning out.

Trying not to dwell on your friends’ implications, you find yourself walking back to your classroom.

The looks and knowing smirks they sent your way when you announced you’d be leaving your little lunch spot a bit earlier making your blood rush, causing you to walk a little faster.

Pushing unwanted thoughts about why you might feel a bit different about someone proves to be an issue, especially when that someone is the one you hope to talk with a little before class starts.

Passing people by fast, ignoring their looks and heading straight to restroom, you stand over the sink.

Taking a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds.

You breathe out as you look at your reflection in the mirror.

Taking another deep breath and you start to examine your face.

 A pink blush spread on your cheeks and your nose, which you hope is caused by your quick pace and not a certain someone. Other than that, your eyes look fine, your mouth in a straight line and your face not giving away a single thought on your mind.

Splashing some cold water and standing for another 10 seconds, you slowly exit and make way to the classroom.

You’re almost disappointed to see Iwaizumi preoccupied with someone else. Key word; almost.

He’s sitting by his seat and a tall figure is looming over it.

From the way the figure moves his hands almost theatrically, it’s clear they’re the ones doing the talking. You can see their shiny brown hair and the gestures pull your attention to their skilled-looking fingers. They must know the enchanting presence they have right now, half the people in the classroom doing nothing but watching them. And they keep on talking about whatever it is they’re talking about purposely, not moving their head an inch from where Iwaizumi is sitting. And from where you are standing, they don’t block your view of Iwaizumi.

You can see him watching and nodding at them. Moving his mouth to make small comments, you assume to be words of agreement and encouragement, once in a while. He looks like in any other class; posture not slouching, hands rested on his desk, gaze focused on the speaker.

Yet the impression on his face. That, you cannot pinpoint.

Maybe you were wrong about Iwaizumi Hajime being an open book. Maybe you don’t know him enough to recognize this specific emotion on his face. It is clear there is something in the way he looks, the way his jaw clenches and the way he breathes. But you can’t make it out.

Startled by a sudden bump by the shoulder, you turn your head, mouth open ready to blurt a harsh word out, only to realize you’ve been blocking the entrance this whole time. Bowing your head slightly in what you hope is an apologetically way, your attention is back to them.

Eyes sliding back to the hall once in a while, you walk back to your desk and to Iwaizumi. Silently hoping he notices you or maybe not. Do you want him to notice you? Do you want to engage with someone who seems to be close to him as well? Do you-

Is that his voice? Head spinning around so fast to confirm with your eyes and yes it is the idiot you’ve been looking for all day, you rush to your desk, all your worries about Iwaizumi and his friend long forgotten.

Muttering few complaints and insults under your breath, along with a “wait up dumb ass” to no one in particular, you furiously search through your bag and make a run for the door as soon as you find what you’re looking for.

You don’t realize the puzzled look on Iwaizumi’s face or how his hand almost reached out to you.

You certainly don’t feel the cold gaze the brunette directs your way either.

You’ve been in an awfully good mood all week so far, Iwaizumi’s sure of it.

It’s almost impossible to miss when the typical demeanor of someone like you is cold and lacking in the smiles department. It’s a relief to see you like this, a little uplifting too. He wants to ask if it’s because of the mysterious text bearing news of hope you had received at the café. He knows better than to pry and settles with waiting until you decide to tell him yourself.

He can’t help but wish he is part of the reason why you’re happy.

Life goes the same for him; practices with the volleyball club, coming up with new strategies to beat Shiratorizawa, dealing with his highness’ shittiness whenever he is too handful. Additionally, you become a part of his life; slowly but surely giving more bits about your true self, talking with much more enthusiasm, making or saying something that is so you that he can’t help but agape once in a while too.

It is a nice change, welcomed, a little challenging because how you hold back and take things in time. He may not be the type to go and befriend anyone he sees but it doesn’t take a genius to know people don’t go all the trouble of slow processing and the effort when making friends nowadays. Lucky for him, Iwaizumi is not the type to back down from a challenge.

  Except for the times you disappear off to god knows where and all he has left to do is to wait. The back and forth between the two of you in thrilling somehow, adding a pinch of adrenaline to all this and leave him wondering what more to discover about you, what more to unlock with you, which layers to reach. To Iwaizumi you’re a little like a matrushka sometimes, reminding him of an oh-too-familiar friend he has spent a life time knowing.

But knowing him and discovering, bonding and growing together with him is what pulls Iwaizumi to the potential your friendship holds and offers.

So here he is one lunch break, sitting by his desk, most gazes locked onto where he is because Oikawa decide to pay him a visit in his classroom instead of calling him outside like he usually does.

He is not even there for something urgent, not even a hair crisis or a sudden volleyball strategy he came up with. No, Oikawa Tooru had to come and just ramble about nothing for no reason Iwaizumi can see. Yet he finds himself listening to his friend’s blabbing, nods when agreeing, making a small comment here and there, watching his comical gestures.

This goes on longer than he can comprehend, not long enough for lunch break to come to an end but long enough for Iwaizumi to zone in and out few times.

By the time his focus his back, he can see you aggressively going through your bag and cursing it. Unaware of Oikawa’s sudden silence, right when he’s about to touch your shoulder, you’re gone with a snap of fingers.

From where he is sitting, the view of the halls is limited. It takes a while for you to be seen again, walking besides someone and giving them whatever it was you were looking for a second ago. The figure’s back turned to him, Iwaizumi cam make out their built and height a bit, hint them to be in a sports team. He doesn’t realize the silent stance Oikawa has whenever he is observing, planning, breaking something into pieces in his mind; not until Iwaizumi realizes the mixture of words and giggles taking over the classroom as they’re done fawning after Oikawa. Before he can say anything else to his friend, besides a hurried “See ya!” Oikawa is gone, followed by the bell.

[kate2kat]

5 fics

I was tagged by @earlgreytea68 (waves from way over here)

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5(ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

When I first read this, I thought, oh well, I haven’t written 5 things this year, because I have been very consumed with 2 long fics, but then I checked, and it turns out I have posted 7 things this year.

1. I think my favourite -- for just how fizzy it made me feel, and because it was this gorgeous chain reaction sparked by a comment by @amysnotdeadyet  on a tumblr post and resulting in the gift of some lovely art -- is Red in which Eames gives Arthur a fabulous Alexander McQueen suit to wear to their wedding.

He had known from the moment he saw the name on the box, that it would be spectacular. But he hadn’t known exactly how.

He has some astonishing suits from Alexander McQueen, but this one is beyond his imagining.

Suitp*rn (TM) is my absolute favourite thing to write for Arthur and Eames, and I think clothes can tell a lot about a person, not just the one wearing them, and a lot about a relationship.

2. I posted two longish instalments in my Good Omens series: Now we both together I think has some lovely moments during the time when Crowley and Aziraphale have to try to imagine what their lives can be like now that they are out of their old jobs, and also have to rethink (Crowley especially) their understanding of their places in the grand scheme of things. 

And of course, the taking off of many layers of clothes features too (it’s a pretty bulletproof thing of mine):

Crowley pushes Aziraphale — gently, firmly, relentlessly — back into the mound of them and leans down over him and kisses him intently. And then he straightens up and undoes Aziraphale’s many buttons: his waistcoat and his shirt and his old-fashioned trouser flies. “So many buttons,” he grumbles, but Aziraphale just smiles, he knows Crowley likes the fact that the many buttons draw this part out and out and out, filling them both with delicious shivery anticipation.

3. Inception’s many challenges are a great way to write things you might not of thought of yourself, and for Eames Stupid Cupid I was lucky enough to get a prompt from @oceaxe-ifdawn, giver of the very best prompts, that really make me think. This one was no exception: “distemper” -- an illness and an old-fashioned kind of paint. I imagined Eames (in particular) growing sick of dreamshare and wanting A new life, which I pictured in the sort of sleepy French village that I have dreamed of living in. I am not nearly good enough at investing to afford such a thing, but Arthur is.

“What are we doing, Eames?” says Arthur as he drives back down the track, concentrating on the ruts.

“Thinking of buying a farm?”

Arthur laughs. “Well, we are retired.”

“You’d consider it? It’s not just the sort of holiday dream you allow yourself after a bit too much wine?”

“Not bad wine, either,” says Arthur.

Eames looks over at him and Arthur takes his eyes off the track long enough to meet his smile.

4. I wrote a little thing on New Year’s day, partly because few years ago I spent Christmas day writing a really good Christmas for Bob, who hadn’t until then had many really good Christmases. Rainy day isn’t a seasonal fic at all, just a bit of quiet reflection on how things change and get better.

Much later, after they’ve been and done the shopping and they’re on the sofa watching football, Bob lying with his head in Dave’s lap, not really watching, he was never that interested in football, really, he says: “When I woke up early this morning, the rain was hitting the window and it reminded me of the first time I stayed here. I was so bloody scared, when you asked me to stay, did you know how scared I was?”

Dave says, his hands on Bob, in his hair, on his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the screen like Bob is: “I think I guessed a bit.”

“I’m glad you made me stay, imagine if you hadn’t?”

“We’d still have worked it out, I think.”

“Yeah, probably. But I’m glad I took the second chance then.” He turns his face up to look at Dave, and Dave’s looking down at him. “We know each other so well now, I know what you like, and you know me. I love that. I love it.”

5. Which brings me to the fic that has consumed me for the last six months to the exclusion of everything else. I have never posted a WIP and god, the stress! I don’t think I’ll do it again in a hurry.

Nocturnal Creatures sprung out of the mood that Bastille’s album Doom Days gave me, listening to it in the car driving home form the office (when we still went to offices) late at night. It’s got nothing to do with the story that the album is telling, but the idea of Eames as a vampire who hates being one, meeting Arthur, who is in dreamshare, and daring to hope he could escape his dark existence took hold and wouldn’t let go. So when the Big Bang came around I proposed it. But I hadn’t actually outlined much of it at the time, and it grew a mind of its own and the posting date came and the story was (I thought) not finished but maybe nearly done? Haha, I’m still writing it. I promise it really is nearly finished, anyone who is still interested (but I have said that several times before, I admit). Anyway, here’s a bit from the last chapter I’ve written, which is not posted yet, but will be soon. I’ll put it under a cut.

Arthur sits up, placing a hand on Eames’ chest, keeping him on his back. A frown flits across his face, as if he is debating something with himself. Eames relaxes his hands at his sides, palms up, quiescent, and Arthur smiles, bending down and kissing him. “I’m in your hands,” Eames says. 

Arthur nods, and positions Eames’ arms above his head, spanning both wrists with one strong hand as he leans in again, biting softly at Eames’ mouth, and then harder, pushing in as his other hand moves down, pressing at his throat just hard enough to make Eames swallow, feeling the resistance. And then Arthur’s hand has moved on, down his chest, brushing across his nipples, tweaking one, and when Eames arches into the touch, pinching the other harder. He chases Arthur’s mouth when he ends the kiss, sitting up.

He leans over to the nightstand and Eames lifts his head, trying to see if he is retrieving the lubricant, but in Arthur’s hand is his dark red tie, the tie he gave to Eames. 

“May I?” he asks.

So there we have it, for anyone who is still reading. A year of writing in a very weird time. The pandemic doesn’t feature at all. 

I will tag @amysnotdeadyet, and @oceaxe-ifdawn (I don’t know if you have written anything this year but you have made some fabulous videos), and @my-citrus-pocket

[percywinchester27]

About a boy (Part-4)

Word count: 2.2K

Warning: Suspense, feels, mention of physical abuse and bullying

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: I have to thank each and everyone of you who’ve taken the time out to read this series, and comment. It truly means the world to me :’)

All my love to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ and @deanssweetheart23​ for beta reading this story. You are awesome <3

About a boy masterlist

"How many Sams can there be?" Dean complained as they walked back from school. "I mean seriously?"

Cas smiled sympathetically. "It's not about how many. It's about the shuffling crowd. Stynes- the family that owns the place - are apparently very influential. They have all sorts of crazy contacts and kids just get adopted all the time."

"Really?" Dean tried to keep a poker face. It wouldn't bode well to let Cas see through him about what he really thought of the Stynes.

"Yeah." Cas said, blissfully ignorant of Dean's tone which was grudgingly challenging. "I mean, it's not like you and me stand a chance, but the little kids are taken up all the time."

"Sam's not a little kid."

"True, but the kids still get shuffled a lot. Foster homes, other orphanages. You could see one face today, and then never see it again." Cas narrowed his eyes.

"You sound weirded out by that," Dean noted.

Cas looked at him, brow furrowed. "But it is weird, isn't it? My earlier orphanage was so sleepy. Barely anything happened there. Then there's this place which is so secretive, doesn't let the kids interact across all age groups. I've been here for 7 years, Dean, and I just never get to know everyone."

Dean stayed quiet. This conversation was dangerously inching towards the subject of how and why Dean had ended up at the orphanage in the first place. And Cas was smart.

"Shit." Cas stopped, eyes wide and panicked. "What if… what if Sam was here and they moved him away? Damn it, Dean. What the hell will we do?"

Dean pursed his lips, trying not to smile. Cas's worry and fear was heartwarming. It was still a task to be careful about what he says because his friends kindness tempted Dean sorely. "My sources were pretty solid. He's here. He was here when I came in. Besides, he's 12. Kids that old don't just get adopted."

Dean could feel Cas looking at him curiously as they started walking again. He was tempted to tell Cas the truth, all of it, but he held back. For now, it was only his burden to carry. He didn't want to put Cas in trouble, or worse, endanger his life. He had avoided all of Cas's questions about where he had come from so far, but dodging the queries had proven to be harder and harder day after day. Then there was the guilt. Cas was going out of his way to help him, and Dean had been as secretive as possible. At least he could draw solace from the fact that it was for Cas's own good.

"What about you?" Dean asked, changing the topic. "You've been here so long. You didn't get tossed around?"

Again, Cas looked uncomfortable. "All of us, from the old orphanage, we've just stayed together."

He didn't say it, but Dean understood. It was Michael. Cas and everyone from the 'Angel names orphanage' as he called it in his head, was somehow protected. He didn't know what Michael's deal was, but he was up to something… something that, by default, provided a protection to everyone under his umbrella, including Cas.

All those angel named kids were settled now. They had a reassurance that they were sticking around till the end. Which explained the pride, bullying and the strut like they owned the place. But not Cas. The privilege embarrassed him.  The idea that he was singled out and treated preferentially was both unpleasant and distressing at some level to him. It made him uneasy.

It made Dean like him more.

They walked in companionable silence for the rest of the way home.

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

It had been 3 weeks. Dean was frustrated.

How much more searching could he do? Every minute was spent plotting the next move, trying to squeeze in time to slip into the record room. It took so much of his own patience, that Dean wondered when Cas would snap and cut himself loose from the hunt. After all, Sam meant nothing to him.

Even so, Cas's commitment never faltered. He went about searching the records as dedicatedly as possible. Every day.

They had found six Sams in the records so far. Three of them had already turned 18 and left the boys home. One had been transferred and two more were too young. By nightfall, Dean wanted to fling something at the figurative heaven. He all but yelled at Cas to stop praying in the evening. There was no God up there.

Dean was also tired of counting all the brown haired kids. There were way too many. More than half easily. He soon realised it was about as pointless as finding a needle in a haystack.

After lights out, he slipped out of his room once more. Cas and Gabriel were both out like a light, but Benny, who was reading something in torchlight, gave Dean a look as he passed. Dean had a suspicion that Benny knew where he and Cas sneaked off to in the evenings, but he hadn't said a word about it, neither had he given the impression that it so much as even mattered to him. Dean had learned to ignore Benny. Cas was always absolutely pleasant to him, but Benny never spoke more than a word or two. Even Gabe, who went around chilling with almost everyone, maintained a decent stance with Benny. Not like he was scared, but like he respected him.

Dean just couldn't bring himself to feel anything. And tonight, when he walked out, with Benny's eyes following him, he wondered if one day he was going to land in trouble thanks to Benny's lack of response.

He found himself back at the steps, back to grill, eyes closed in the light breeze flowing through the corridor.

"Back again, I see."

Dean did not jump this time, but his lips pulled up in a half smirk.

"So are you."

There was a soft chuckle from the other side.

"How was the Oly… uh… the thing that you had." Dean scratched his head. "Oh yeah… the Olympiad."

"Okay, I guess," the voice said. The kid sounded pleasant. "I mean, I don't think I'm failing or anything." Then he added in a small voice. "I just don't want to think about the result."

Dean snorted quietly. Normal problems.

Then it hit him.

"You're what? 11? 12? Why're you participating in Olympiads?"

"Seemed like a good exercise for the brain." It was no big deal to him from the way he said it.

Smart and pleasant. That was a rare combination for a kid in an orphanage.

"How long you've been here?" Dean asked.

"About half a year, I guess? Ain't the worst place I've been in."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Even with all the detention camp treatment? What with the lock-down and no interaction."

The kid laughed, only slightly bitter. "Well, you haven't been in too many orphanages then."

It was true. What did Dean know about that?

"Have you been to too many?"

The boy sighed. "About five, I think. That's not counting the abusive Children's home." He said it as a matter of fact.

"They hurt you?" Dean's heart seemed to be squeezed.

"Ehhh… mostly I ended up hurting myself."

"How?"

A dry scoff. "Can't deal with people who throw weight around like that. If I saw someone getting hit, I'd go stand up to abusive idiots."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Dean murmured sincerely. It was unfair.

To his surprise, the boy laughed. "Don't be. It's how I learned to fight. I can throw a mean punch."

Dean couldn't help the appreciation he felt.

"What's your name, kid?"

The voice went silent.

Dean waited for a couple of minutes, but no reply came.

"Hey?" He tried again.

"It's against the rules to be out, ya know?"

"You think I'm gonna rat you out?" Dean asked, incredulous. "Look around, kid, I'm breaking the rules, too, here."

At long last the voice sighed. "It's Will. Short for William."

There was some solace in getting to know the kids name after all. At least he had gotten one answer today, as opposed to all the ones he had been searching for.

"I'm Dean. Dean Winchester."

"You have a last name," Will noted.

That clearly meant Will didn't have one. He had been in orphanages since he was too young to have known his real name. Sure he might have a made up last name in the papers, but it was just that, a formality.

Dean couldn't stop himself from asking the question. "Why are you up tonight? Another test?"

Another scoff. "Not really."

"Care to elaborate?"

Another silence.

"Well, aren't you being one secretive bitch today?" Dean grumbled. Will intrigued him, and that annoyed him.

"You're the one to talk, jerk," Will shot back. "Especially after how mysterious you played last time."

It was true. Kid had a point. He had, in fact, disappeared on the boy the last time.

A heavy exhale sounded from the other side. "It's just, I can't stop thinking about what lies beyond these walls. One of the boys I knew was transferred today and I don't know where he's gone. Sometimes I wonder if… if I even have a future."

"What?"

"I know!" Will said, talking fast now. "Most kids just end up on the police roll call, the only place their picture ends up is in mug shots. It's what Andy says."

"Andy's an idiot!" Dean stated.

Will laughed. "Maybe."

More silence - comforting and companionable. 

Out of the blue the idea came to Dean. "Hey, there's something you can help me with?"

"Oh-kay?" Will sounded wary.

"How old are you?"

"I don't see how that helps you with anything, but I'm 11," he replied.

"That's fantastic!" How had he not thought of this before? "Do you know anyone by the name Sam on your floor?"

"Sam?" There was the usual curiosity in his voice.

"Yeah!" Dean had to keep his voice from getting the better of him. "Sam or Samuel or anyone like that?"

There was no reply, just a loud thrumming. As if the boy was tapping his fingers against his lap or the other hand. "There's one kid called Sammy, I think."

Dean's throat constricted, his heart doubled its beat. Could he be? Could it really be?

"No wait… his name is Sandy," Will corrected. "Don't think I know a Sam… but I can't say for sure that I know everyone."

Dean seemed to deflate. He wanted to punch something… someone... for both- the hope and hopelessness. One of it was going to kill him, he was sure.

"What do you want with this Sam, anyway?" Will asked and Dean wanted to slap his head.

"Fine, don't tell me! But don't go back to being the mysterious shadow," Will added quickly, making Dean smile.

"Let's just say it's a personal research project for me. It's my way out of this place… to my future," Dean said. He didn’t know what Will made out of it, but the kid remained quiet for a while.

“There’s twenty new kids on the floor. Came in about a month ago,” Will said, slowly. “I’ll ask around and let you know.”

Dean wanted to ask why. Why was this kid helping him? He had expected the question from Will- that ‘what was in it from him?’ But no such conditions came. Will offered his help freely… willingly. Just like Cas had. Maybe Dean needed to trust people more, see the good in them often, because there was all the good there, that which he couldn’t have possibly hoped for.

“Thanks, man,” he said quietly.

“No problem,” Will chimed. “I’ll keep this hushed.”

Perhaps he understood what hope of a future meant. 

Dean realised that the more he got to know the people here, the more they surprised him with their kindness. Cas, Will… and unexpectedly even Gabriel and Benny in their zealousness and quiet had all helped him in their own way. Dean was starting to care. He didn't like it.

Will yawned abruptly. 

“Get some sleep,” Dean suggested. His was evading him.

There was some scuffling as Will got to his feet. “Night, Dean. I hope you find your Sam.” His voice was soft, both grave and reassuring at the same time. It startled Dean, and he wondered if Will truly understood how much finding Sam meant to Dean.

“Night,” he said.

The feet shuffled away and Dean squinted into the darkness, pointlessly trying to discern the passing shape, trying to get one look at the boy who had selflessly, unconditionally agreed to help him.

That night when he closed his eyes, for a second… or, at least, a fraction of it, Dean felt the strangest urge to send a thought up to heaven, or whatever higher power there was. He finally understood why Cas prayed, understood the urge to want something better for other people. Maybe Cas’s God will listen to Dean.

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

A/N 2: I really really hope y’all like this story!! Please let me know what you think… the feedback is what keeps me going :)

If you wanna be tagged, please send me an ask

About a Boy taglist:

@sdavid09 @deanssweetheart23​ @blacktithe7​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @chalicia​  @anathewierdo​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @protectteamfreewill​ @firefly124-writing​ @spnbaby-67​ @hoboal87​ @rizlow1​ @donnaintx​ @starmission​ @gh0stgurl​ @tftumblin​ @emily-a-c11​ @ericaprice2008​ @jotink78​ @charliebradbury1104​ @ohgodwhybloggg​ @i-dont-get-cold​  @bobbie3939​  @samsexualdeancurious​ @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba​  

[calpalirwin]

Photographs and Tattoos

Summary: Maxine “Max” Green was never the girl to pass up a challenge, and she may have just met her match in the form of sullen drummer boy, Ashton Irwin.

A/N: Slow burn relationships are utter perfection and I am too soft of a writer to have the patience to write them. But, I tried. And I had fun doing it.

Content: Bad hairstyle jokes. Cussing (as per usual). Mentions of drinking.

Word count: Who counts words? The same like 6 of you are gonna read this whether it’s 1 word or a million, so who cares? Then why are you adding this Bri? I don’t know, trying to be professional?

And away, and away we go!

~~~

“Max, these are the guys. Guys, this is Max. She’s your photographer,” Steve Lewis introduced.

The teenage boys eyed the girl up and down. Maxine “Max” Green stood a good foot shorter than the tallest boy, her black brown hair held back in a ponytail, brown eyes hidden behind black glasses. She was dressed simply, much like they were, in jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. Her fingers unwrapped from the camera she had dangling around her neck as she extended her hand to the boys. “Pleasure,” she said, shaking each of their hands in turn.

“Lil young to be a photographer aren’t you?” one of the blonde haired boys asked her, a hand going up to push his fringe out of his hazel eyes.

“Lil young to be a rock band, eh?” she shot back, hands going to her hips.

“Watch yourself,” Steve told them both. “Max, curb the attitude. Ash, she’s older than even you, and if you disrespect her, I’ll let her lay you out.”

The hazel-eyed boy deemed Ash smiled wickedly at Max. “Oh, yeah?”

“Stop flirting with her, and let’s do this!” the dark-haired boy said, putting his hand on Ash’s shoulder.

Ash let out a boyish giggle as his cheeks flushed.

~~~

“So, you guys are from Australia?” Max asked as she scrolled through the photos she uploaded to her computer.

“Yup. We even went to school together. Well, all but Ash,” one of the blonde boys who wasn’t Ash, spoke up. Max glanced over at the voice, noticing the green eyes. Mike. Mike was the blonde with green eyes. Mike also had a wild streak a mile wide. Max liked Mike.

“So, how did Ash get in the band? And is Ash short for something?”

“Is Max short for something?” Ash retorted.

“It’s short for shut the fuck up,” Max smiled sarcastically at him. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the oldest band member. One second he was happy and giggly like the rest of them and the next he was grumpy and sullen.

“Hey, don’t swear!” he scolded her.

“It’s short for Ashton, as in Ashton, stop being an asshole,” the other blonde haired boy explained. Luke, the baby in the band, Max remembered. She also liked him and his bubbly personality. She was sure the smile on his face was permanent.

“Stop swearing!” Ash said, throwing his hands in the air in a huff.

Max and the other three boys laughed. Then, “It’s short for Maxine. But I’ve always gone by Max. And ease up with the not-swearing bit. You’re a punk band.”

“You really think we’re punk?” Mike asked, his green eyes lighting up.

“I mean, you guys don’t dance ,and you actually play your instruments, so you’re not a boy band…”

Mike let out a squeal of excitement before giving her a rib-crushing hug. “She thinks we’re punk rock!”

“You’re not punk rock,” the dark-haired boy, Calum, by process of elimination, spoke up finally. “You’re hugging her.”

Max liked Calum too. He was quiet but when he did talk, he was downright funny.

“Hugs are totally punk rock,” Max and Mike said. Then, just Max, “Now ,let me go, so I can get back to work.”

“Are any of them good?” Ash asked, peering over her shoulder.

“Are we done being grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy,” he told her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Max rolled her eyes and pulled her bag towards her. “Here,” she said, tossing a granola bar at each boy. “I’ll tell Professor Lewis to get us some real food.”

~~~

“Max!” Steve’s voice called out as Max headed for the door of the classroom.

“Yeah?” she asked, stopping and turning back to look her professor.

“I have an opportunity for you, if you’re up to the challenge.”

She absent-mindedly rolled up the sleeves of her sweater. “Always,” she said, feeling the grin spread across her face. Professor Lewis believed in her skills in a way no one ever had. He had let her take total control over the photoshoot of the punk rock band a few weeks ago, letting her and the boys decide which ones to use. And now he was ready to trust her with something bigger, she could tell.

“Alright. 5 Seconds of Summer is touring and they need a photographer. I can’t go because I have classes to teach. Would you be willing to go in my place?”

“5 Seconds of Summer?” she asked, cocking her head to the side in confusion.

“The band you helped me with a few weeks ago.”

Her eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, yeah! Alright, cool. Wait, did you say tour photographer?”

“I did. Keep up, Max.”

“Professor… I… I’m in school…”

“I already talked to the department. Send me every shot you take so I can put it in a portfolio and we’ll make it count for as many classes as we can. Be sure to experiment with different ideas.”

“Do I get paid?”

Steve chuckled. “Max, it’s an all expenses paid tour. This is a free ticket to travel the world with a camera. But yes, when you get home, my company will cut you a check for your work.”

“And you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

“What if I mess this up?”

“Retake the shot,” he winked. “Don’t worry so much. Trust your gut. There will be a whole crew along for the ride, and I’m just a phone call away. So, can you do it?”

Max weighed through the options in her head. This was the chance of a lifetime. Her teacher believed she could do this. She was going to prove that his trust in her was well-placed. “Hell yeah!”

~~~

“Max!” Mike said, happily, doing a little run to hug the girl.

“Mikey,” she grinned, reaching up to ruffle her hands through his hair which was now bright red. “I like your hair!”

“Mum said I looked like a Skittle. I showed her!”

Max laughed, “You’re such a brat. Looks good, kid.”

“He thinks it makes him look more punk rock,” Calum said. Then, with a loud whisper, “It doesn’t!”

Max cupped her hands to her mouth and stretched up to whisper in the brown boy’s ear just as loudly, “Yes, it does!” before shooting a grin at Mike who grinned back.

“Steve sent you?” Ash’s voice said from behind her.

“Is that a problem?” she asked, turning, hands going to her hips.

“No,” the tall boy shrugged, a hand pushing his blonde fringe out of his eyes.

“You should really try a new hairstyle,” Max suggested. “The emo fringe is a little 2007.”

“I like the fringe,” the boy pouted.

“It’s not bad,” she admitted. “But, it’s gonna be a problem if you keep having to push it out of your face.”

~~~

Ashton looked over at Max. Her glasses were hanging off her shirt, her head leaning against the window of the plane. She had her earbuds in and her lips parted a little with every breath she took as she dozed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the 3-months older girl who he thought was too young to be trusted to be their tour photographer. But, he couldn’t deny the talent she had. Not that he knew much about photography, but all the pictures they used from their photoshoot a few weeks ago had been from her camera. 

Still, he was hesitant towards her and he couldn’t figure out why. He wondered how much was his own nerves around the admittedly pretty girl, and how much was jealousy of how friendly she was with the other 3- especially Mike- and so cold towards him. Had he said something to upset her, and she was still feeding off of that? Was he really just a grumpy, moody teenage boy and she was a grumpy, moody teenage girl?

He shrugged the thoughts away as her head rolled from the window to his shoulder. He smiled and pulled out his phone, taking a quiet and quick selfie of him and the girl asleep on his shoulder. He bet that the girl spent so much time behind the camera that she didn’t spend a lot of time in front of it. He was going to do what he could to remedy that, and that mission started here and now.

~~~

Max sighed and paced around the room. “I can’t keep doing this back and forth with you, Owen. This is my job. I can’t just come home because you miss me.”

The 4 boys frowned as the girl continued to pace, sharing confused glances at each other. None of them had any idea who this Owen was. At a year and a half of knowing the girl, all they knew about Max was that she was good at photography and had dropped her college education to be with them full time. That and that they liked her. She, much like each other, was a constant in their ever-changing, chaotic lives. She was their much needed-stability and they were her much-craved adventure. She was their girl, and they were her boys.

“No, Owen, you’re not listening to me! I got to live my life. It would be nice if we could work out. No- I know! I know you’re fighting for us, and that’s nice. But, I’m done fighting. I’m over this. No! I’m not saying that to hurt you! Look, we lost control of this long ago. We just need to let go, okay?”

“What are you doing?” Calum asked, as Ashton pulled out his phone to record Max.

“Shh, her words. Listen!” Ashton hushed. He knew he could turn those words into a song, but he needed to be able to remember them. And in order to do that, Calum needed to shut up.

Max sighed again, her glasses sliding up her face as she rubbed at her face. “I’m not cheating on you, you insecure little bitch boy! God! See, this is why we’re breaking up! I can’t live my life if I have to constantly reassure you of our relationship! I’m claiming my independence. Goodbye.” She hung up the phone and let out a small disgruntled scream.

“You okay?” Mike asked.

“Hmm?” Max said, taking notice of the four boys. “Oh, yeah, I’m good.”

Luke frowned. “Sounds like you just broke up with your boyfriend. Didn’t even know you had one.”

She came over to mess up the blue-eyed boy’s hair. “Boyfriends are overrated,” she smiled at him.

“I think we have ice cream,” Calum said, getting up. “Mali always eats ice cream after a breakup.”

Max laughed, “Honestly guys, I’m fine.”

“Are you turning down ice cream?” Luke asked.

Mike clutched a hand to his chest in mock-shock. “How dare you!”

Max laughed and pushed the wild boy, knocking him off balance. “Better bring the whole carton, Cal. And 5 spoons,” she said, expectantly, looking at Ashton who was staring at his phone. “Ash?” Max asked, poking the boy’s shoulder.

His head glanced up. “Hmm?”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You good?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Are you?” he challenged. The emotions in his head and heart swirled dangerously inside him like a storm. A year and a half later and he still wasn’t sure of his feelings towards the girl. He liked her. They were friends. But there still remained the level of coldness that neither of them had been able to crack through.

She narrowed her eyes at the boy, who’s fringe had been replaced by soft brown curls. Black frames covered his hazel eyes, much in the same way black frames covered her brown ones. His apparent coldness still stung as it seemed to be more in full-effect when he conversed with her, but she had come to learn that’s just how the boy was. A tough facade to hide the soft boy he was inside. He was the oldest in the band, he had to act the part. Still, she wasn’t sure why he had to be so hard around her. But, she was still clueless to just how soft the boy actually was towards her, photos of her taking up most of the space on his phone, but he refused to delete a single one.

~~~

“That looks like it hurts,” Mike winced, watching Ashton sit in the tattoo chair.

The needle buzzing had already sent Luke running from the shop. Calum and Max were leaning against the counter with Mike, watching the needle work itself into Ashton’s wrist. The hazel eyes went wide, “What?! I thought we were all doing this together! Cal!”

Calum shrugged. “Sorry, mate. You’re on your own.”

“Mike!” Ashton continued to beg, stunned amusement in his eyes as he realized there was no going back for him and that his bandmates had bailed.

“Maybe next time, sorry Ash. I’m gonna go check on Luke.” The boy with wild hair colors Max couldn’t keep track off left the shop.

“Max?” Ashton asked, a final plea to not be alone in what was supposed to be a bonding tattoo experience.

“I’m not in the band,” she said simply, holding up her camera and snapping a picture of Ashton for proof. “Just the photographer.”

“Aw, c’mon, you’re as much as part of this band as the guys are,” Ashton said, continuing his plea.

“I am?” Max asked, her brown eyes going wide. Ashton had remained his rather cold self to the girl in their now 2 year long friendship. While it was an unspoken aspect that she was the honorary 5th member, hearing Ashton admit it made her insides twist in the most pleasant of ways. Unless he was just saying it to get her to get a tattoo with him. Either way, it was quite the line.

“Course you are.”

“Oddly suspicious coming from you while you sit in a tattoo chair, begging not to be alone.”

“How is the truth suspicious?”

Max snorted. “Oh, c’mon, Ash! We all know you just tolerate me.”

Ashton ducked his head. “Have I really been that mean to you?” he asked, his voice small.

“No,” Max told him, reaching for his hand that wasn’t being tattooed on. “You haven’t been mean. You’ve been a grump the entire time I’ve known you. But, I know it’s not because you’re mean.”

“I’m a jerk, huh?”

She held her thumb and index finger together. “Just a smidge. But, I’ve been a jerk back, so I guess we’re even.”

“So friends?”

She snorted again, this time a happier sound. “We already were, dumbass.”

“Stop swearing,” he giggled.

“Alright, who’s next?” the tattoo artist said, wrapping Ashton’s tattoo. “Keep an eye on that. You bled a lot, kid.”

Ashton’s face blushed as he hurriedly pulled down his sleeves to hide the scars on his wrists. “Thanks,” he mumbled, pulling out his wallet to pay.

“My treat,” Max spoke up, her hand reaching out to stop Ashton.

“Max, it’s fine,” Ashton protested.

“Consider it your birthday present,” she said.

“My birthday’s not for another 2 months,” he continued to protest.

“Fine. Pay for mine, I’ll pay for yours.”

“You’re gonna get one?” he asked, his hazel eyes lighting up.

“We’re a band, right?” she asked. She reached down to roll up her jeans. “Can you do the same thing right here?” she asked the tattoo artist, pointing at the soft flesh on her ankle.

“Have a seat,” he said.

Ashton scrambled up from the chair and moved to stand next to Calum while Max moved to take a seat in the chair. “Here goes nothing,” she winked at the boys. “Cal, go tell the others we’re gonna be a minute.”

~~~

“Moment of truth?” Ashton asked, hands ready to peel off the bandage on his wrist.

“Moment of truth,” Max grinned, her hands on her own bandage. They had waited until the other boys had gone to sleep, keeping the bandages on longer than necessary, wanting to save this moment for when it was just the two of them.

“Cool,” they both marveled their own tattoo, the simple tally mark etched upon their skin, before their eyes moved to admire the other’s. Max’s fingers grazed around the tattoo on Ashton’s wrist, feeling the scars underneath. “What happened?” she asked, her voice barely higher than a whisper.

Ashton jerked away, his sleeves moving to cover his hands. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, his hazel eyes growing dark.

“No, it’s not,” Max said, keeping her voice soft. “Don’t push me away, Ash. I’m not judging you.”

“Everybody else does,” the boy said sadly.

She sighed. “What is it with you and these walls? Those are more than your band mates over there. Those are your brothers. Me and you? We have matching tattoos, now. C’mon. Lower your defenses.”

“Says you. You didn’t even tell us you had a boyfriend.”

Max sighed again. “Are you tired?”

“No. Why?”

“Stay up with me. Tell me your life story, and I’ll tell you mine. Let’s get real. No secrets. Everything out in the open.”

Ashton gulped. He wasn’t sure he liked this plan. There were some secrets meant to be kept. Like his growing feelings towards her he still couldn’t figure out, and the pictures he had of her on his phone. But, he met her brown-eyed gaze that was as steady as it ever was and nodded. “Alright, who starts?”

“I’ll start,” Max decided.

~~~

“Lemme tell ya how it went down,” Calum told the camera and Max had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

A small party had formed in Ashton’s home as the men grew progressively drunker and talked about their new album. Max, clung to her cup, sipping slowly. Not being a big drinker herself, she had taken the role of designated driver many a time for her boys. But, having the party at Ashton’s meant she was free to drink a little herself. Just enough to get a small buzz going. Not nearly as plastered as her friends were becoming.

“Need more?” Ashton’s voice asked her, a blue bandana still stuck to his head.

She shook her head, reaching her hands up to tug the bandana off his head. “Remember when you used to wear these all the time?” she asked.

“Why did you let me do that? You told me the fringe was a bad idea, but you let me wear this every day for a year? Monster,” he giggled. He was pacing himself with his drinks, but Max knew her friend well enough he was walking a fine line from strong buzz to straight up drunk.

“You had worse hairstyles,” she assured him, patting his chest affectionately, trying not to take too much pleasure in the way his heartbeat drummed against her fingertips.

He winced at the memory of his long shaggy hair. “Ooo, yeah, that was bad,” he admitted with a hiccuped giggle.

She smiled as she reached up to comb through his short brown hair. “Your hair’s fine now, don’t worry. And slow down with the drinks.”

“But, I’m having fun,” he winked, his hands resting on her waist.

Her hands moved again to hold his chin. “Slow down,” she said again, her voice firm.

“You’re drinking,” he pointed out, his fingers dancing across her skin.

“Ash,” she said, pulling out of his grasp, her skin on fire. “Sober up. C’mon, I think I saw KayKay in the kitchen.”

“How come you don’t date?” he asked at the mention of his girlfriend’s name. “You’ve watched all of us date. We’ve never seen you date.”

“I date,” Max assured him, tugging him towards the kitchen.

“I’ve never seen you date,” he said, following after her.

“Drink this,” she said, pressing a water bottle in his hands. “Your buzz will keep you feeling good for a while. But you need to start drinking water.”

“You take such good care of us, Max. All of us. We wouldn’t survive without you,” he said, a finger tapping her nose affectionately.

Max let out a low chuckle. “You’re my boys. You’re my band. Of course I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Okay. I’m gonna tell you something,” he said, taking a sip of water. “Damn, that’s good,” he said, taking another sip. “Okay, the thing. And, you can’t hold this against me. I’m kinda drunk right now.”

Max chuckled again, “It’s me, Ash. You can tell me anything, you know this.”

He grinned, “No, I really can’t. Because I bet if you knew I have pictures of you on my phone- not bad pictures, I’m not a perv…- but pictures. Of you. On my phone. I’m betting you’d be mad. But, that’s okay. Because I’m pretty sure I love you. But, we can’t let Max know. This,” he said, waving a finger between the two of them. “This is a secret. So, we can’t tell Max. And we definitely can’t tell Kay. Alright.”

Max had stopped breathing at his drunken confessions, unsure of what the truth really was, and scared to find out. “Okay, Ash. We won’t tell Kay or Max. This is just between you and me.”

“Promise me,” he said, his hazel eyes dark with their seriousness.

“Cross my heart,” she told him.

“Alright, good. Now, I gotta go get Cal off that stool cuz I think he broke it.”

Max watched as he staggered off, crouching under the stool, Calum was trying to twist back into place. “Twist it, mate,” Ashton’s voice said.

“I’m twisting, bro!” Calum answered back angrily.

Max chuckled to herself, leaning against the kitchen counter, her head reeling. 5 and a half years of friendship and he finally admitted he liked her. He had admitted a whole lot more too. But it didn’t matter what his confession meant, even if it was true. He had a girlfriend. And Max had ignored her feelings for Ashton for far too long to be certain of what feelings classified as friendship and which ones crossed the line in something more.

~~~

“Hey,” Max grinned at him as he stumbled down the stairs the next morning.

“Shh,” he said, one hand waving her off, the other rubbing at his head. “Lower your voice. What are you doing here?”

“I drank, so I just crashed in the spare bedroom. Figured it was okay.”

“And you’re not hungover?”

She shook her head. “I only had like 2 drinks.”

“Mmm,” he nodded. “How’s the footage. Is any of it usable?” he asked.

It was her turn to nod. “Yeah, it’s all usable for the most part. I think the drunker you guys got, the better the videos got.”

“God, that was so stupid. Why’d you let me drink so much?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I told you to slow down.”

“Are you the one who gave me water?”

“Mhm,” she said. And the one you confessed your attraction to. And the one who put your drunk ass to bed. And the one you tried to kiss when I put your drunk ass to bed, her thoughts concluded.

“Did I do anything stupid?”

“No stupider than usual, Ash,” she assured her friend.

“Good. Cuz I thought…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, and Max leaned forward slightly in her seat, eager to hear if his sober confession matched his drunken one from last night. “Nevermind,” he finished with a sigh. “I’m gonna go do some yoga. Wanna come?”

“Sure,” she said, getting up. Damn, another time, I guess, she thought, wrapping her arm around the man’s shoulders.

~~~

“You good?” Max asked her friend. Ashton had seemed down for days, his social media accounts eerily quiet despite all the tour buzz.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

“Nothing, you just seem… I dunno, quiet I guess.”

He shrugged. “I mean, I dunno. Maybe I’m a little sad. I was with Kay for like 2 years.”

Max nodded, biting into her lip. The drummer and his girlfriend had called things off right before he left for tour, reasons unknown to everyone. “Wanna talk about it?”

Ashton shook his head, “Nah, I’m good.”

“Alright then,” she said, pulling up her camera. “Say cheese.”

~~~

“Whoa, mate…” Calum said, looking through the pictures. “Does Max know about this?”

Ashton shook his head. “At least, I don’t think she does. I might have mentioned it when we did those videos for Youngblood, but I can’t remember. She never brought it up, and I’ve been too scared to ask.”

“Mate…” Calum said again, running his hands through his blue hair. “And you’re gonna give this to her as a Christmas gift?”

Ashton nodded.

“How long?” Calum asked the obvious question.

“Honestly? Probably the whole fuckin time.”

“Doesn’t she like Mike?”

“That’s what I thought. But, then… we got these right?” he said, showing Calum the tally tattoo, and then the story of the night he had stayed up all night with Max was rolling from his lips. “And I think that’s when I actually fell for her. Just… she feels like home.”

~~~

Merry Christmas, Max! Check your email for your gift! the text from Ashton read.

Merry Christmas, Ash! she texted back, even though it was still Christmas Eve back home. Her email app pinged as she switched over.

The girl who notices the world through a camera lens, never noticing the focus was always on her. the email read, with an attached file.

Max clicked on the attachment and had to scramble to catch her phone as it slipped through her fingers. 8 years of pictures filtered through her senses. Some had simple captions like “Max having her first gelato in Italy”. Some were funnier like “Girl snores like a freight train.” But it was the first and last picture that held the words that pulled forth the tears welling in her eyes. The first picture was of her head resting gently on Ashton’s shoulder, his blonde fringe forever cemented in time with the caption “I think I love this girl.” The last photo was only a week old, and- much like the first picture- featured Ashton. He was sitting down on the couch and she was standing up behind him, marveling his black hair. In a moment of softness, she had pressed a kiss to his hair, never noticing Calum taking the shot in the corner. The caption for this picture was nearly identical to the first photo’s caption: “I know I love this woman.”

Max clutched the phone to her chest tenderly. Ever since his confession, she had gone back and forth with her own feelings. She had realized what she had always known to be true, that she was in love with the man she had watched grow up in front of her camera. She was in love with his wild streak that was larger than life and left her head pounding for days. She was in love with the gentle boy who wore both his heart and scars on his sleeve. She was in love with every version of him he had ever been, and with every version he would ever be. And here was the proof that his drunken confession had been real, solidifying both of their feelings.

But, and there was the nagging thought. But, she had seen the photo of him with KayKay at the Christmas events when they got done touring. Maybe the love Ashton was saying he felt towards her was platonic. She wasn’t sure what she wanted the answer to be.

~~~

“Hey,” he smiled at her.

“Hey,” she said, returning the smile and taking a seat next to him on the couch. “Listen,” Max started, needing to speak before she lost her nerve.

“I-” Ashton started at the same time she did, also needing to get his feelings out in the open before he lost his nerve. “I lied. Before.”

“What?” Max asked, looking at him in confusion.

“The day we got the tattoos. We stayed up all night talking. I didn’t tell you everything.”

“You didn’t?”

He shook his head. “I left out the liking you part. I thought… I was scared. I still am scared. You’ve been this… constant steadiness in my life that I didn’t know I needed, and that I would be completely lost without. I can’t even begin to tell you how many songs I helped write because I needed a way to process what I felt towards you. And… I…” His hands were running wildly through his hair, searching for the words he had never been able to say to her face.

“I know,” she interrupted, grabbing his hands and pulling them down between them. “You told me this already.”

“I did?”

She nodded. “Youngblood album. You were drunk, so I wasn’t sure how much of it was true or not.”

“I thought that was a dream…”

“Nope, it was real.”

“Shit…”

“Ashton,” she said, getting him to look at her. His hazel eyes held a look she had never quite seen. She had seen those eyes dance wildly in his happiest moments, the cold hardness when he was angry, the dangerous flashing when he got intimidating, the soft sorrow of reflection. Every mood she had seen in his eyes. But this? This wasn’t sad. It was… she wanted to say scared, but in all her days she had never known the man sitting next to her to be scared. Scary, yes, but not scared himself. Ashton Irwin was many things, but scared was not one of them.  Yet, here he was, scared absolutely shitless as 8 years of feelings lay between them. “I lied, too.”

“What about?” he asked, swallowing his fears, but not allowing himself to be hopeful either.

“Ashton, you’re my best friend. And I struggled for a long time trying to break down your walls without knowing why. And then, you finally let me in. And… God, it was like a switch flicked on. At the time, well, maybe always, I thought that our friendship meant more to me than the possibility of what we could be. But, then you kept being you. And then you told me how you felt. And I didn’t want to believe it, because I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be true or not. And then you sent me the pictures and I knew it was. And, I value our friendship, I really do. But, I’m also really wishing you’re gonna ask me for more than a friendship, so I can say yes.”

“You are?” His voice was a low whisper, like he was afraid that talking too loudly would shatter whatever this moment was.

Max nodded. “I just have one question. Kaykay?”

“Just friends,” he answered.

“So, are we,” she countered.

“You and I were never just friends,” Ashton said, and then his lips were on hers. “You are my best friend. And so much more.”

“Shut up, and kiss me,” she said, grinning.

[readwritevibe]

Maas University - Chapter 2

See Chapter 1 for summary :)

Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Of course Rowan Whitethorn was her fucking RA. Her university experience had obviously just been too good up until that point, and the gods must have decided that something must be created to challenge all of the positive experiences she had been having. Aelin glared at her teammate as he went over basic dorm rules, including no alcohol, no drugs, and enforced quiet hours at 10pm on school nights. She had no doubt that Rowan would actually enforce them, either. There was no way that he was going to be the cool, chill RA that she had imagined having in the weeks leading up to her arrival at Maas University. 

She thought back to her first meeting with Rowan two days prior. She had been informed via email that all first year members of the triathlon team must meet with the upperclassmen on the team, as well as with the team’s coach, a well known former triathlete named Maeve. Each first year member had been assigned a specific time slot for their meeting. Aelin’s had been at 11:15am. This had been one of the very few times that she had deigned to arrive early to anything, which is how she bumped into her old acquaintance Ansel Briarcliff outside of the conference room. 

«No way,» the redhead had whispered as Aelin approached at 10:30am, a full 45 minutes early for her appointment. Maybe she had gone a bit overboard with this whole being early thing, but she had decided that she would let it slide, just this once.

«Are we about to be teammates again?» Aelin had slid down the wall to take a seat next to her old friend, who immediately draped an arm over Aelin’s shoulders. 

«It appears so!»

The two girls had caught up as Ansel waited for her 10:45am appointment. Just as Aelin was about to ask Ansel about her recent PRs, the doors to the conference room had swung open, and out had stepped Lysandra Ennar. Aelin’s smile had converted into a smirk almost immediately, a comment already forming on the tip of her tongue as she eyed her long-standing competitor. The dark haired girl had only smirked at Aelin as she flipped her long hair over her shoulder and walked away, though. Despite herself, Aelin couldn’t help but admire the grace with which Lysandra took every step, as if there were flashing lights on the ground that said, «step here,» as she walked. 

«What’s her problem?» Ansel rubbed her hands on her legs as she stood up, straightening out her rose gold lululemon shorts once she was finally standing. 

«It’s a long story,» Aelin amended, stretching her arms out in front of her.

Ansel held the door in one hand, looking back at Aelin over her shoulder. «It always is with you, huh?»

Aelin had simply shrugged in response, examining her nails, but her only thought as the doors in front of her shut once again had been, you have no idea. 

The next half hour had dragged, and Aelin’s mind wandered as she wondered what kinds of questions they could possibly be asking in there. She assumed they were probably covering the typical things, like best times, goals, rules, and expectations, but surely that all wouldn’t take half an hour. After what seemed like an eternity, however, the doors had reopened, and Ansel had stepped out, pulling at the hem of her loose, white t-shirt. Aelin had immediately jumped to her feet, grabbing the door from her friend and pulling it closed behind her. It was time for her to answer some questions, and hopefully for her to get some answers of her own.

At the very end of the room there was one long table with about seven people seated behind it. Aelin had immediately decided that there was no way that this was the entire team. In the middle of the table sat a woman in a black blazer with a white blouse underneath, a crooked smile gracing her face as she scribbled something down on the paper in front of her. Her black hair was pulled back into a simple French braid, which was tied off at the nape of her neck, letting the rest of her hair curl freely down her back. Coach Maeve, Aelin had immediately noted, before shifting her gaze to the woman’s right. She immediately recognized Nehemia Ytger, having raced against her multiple times during the two years that their high school careers had overlapped. Aelin had always liked Nehemia, who gave off what she could only describe as a soothing energy, despite the fact that the two had hardly said more than two sentences to each other. Next to Nehemia sat a boy with pale skin and black hair. He smiled at Aelin as her gaze flicked over him, his face tugging at some memory deep in the recesses of her mind. She had offered a smile to him in return, even as her gaze wandered over to the boy next to him, who was all angles and tanned skin. He held eye contact with Aelin for all of one second before averting his gaze to what must have been a very captivating ceiling tile. Fine then, be that way, was her only thought as she turned to the other far end of the table. There sat her cousin, Aedion, who winked in her direction before whispering something into the ear of the blonde boy beside him. Aedion’s friend was rather muscular Aelin noted, as he threw a lopsided grin in her direction. 

That’s when Aelin had seen him for the first time. Rowan freaking Whitethorn, sitting on Coach Maeve’s left side, his eyes narrowing as he took her in. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow as she gazed back at him, taking in his snow white hair, sun-tanned skin, and pine green eyes. He had held her gaze for a few seconds before looking over at whatever Coach Maeve had been writing down on her papers.

The Coach herself glanced up now and cleared her throat. «Welcome! Miss Galathynius, I presume?»

«Yes, coach!» Aelin had smiled directly back, only to find that Coach Maeve’s smile did not reach her eyes.

«Good, good,» was all the coach had replied, before continuing, «So, Miss Galathynius, can you tell us a little about your triathlon career up until this point?»

«Of course!» Aelin smiled again, uncrossing her arms and placing them at her sides. «I’ve been coached by Arobynn Hamel since I was seven years old. My PR in the sprint distance was one hour and three minutes flat, and my PR in the olympic distance was two hours, seventeen minutes, and twenty-two seconds.» 

«And those were both achieved at the high school national championship race, correct?» Coach Maeve’s smile opened wider, revealing a perfect set of straight, blindingly white teeth.

Aelin had practically been glowing as she answered, energy buzzing through her body, down to her feet and back up to her shoulders. «Yes. I got the gold there twice, silver once, and bronze once.»

«A true national champion,» Coach Maeve had mused.

«And a humble one, at that,» Rowan had muttered, sliding a paper to his right. 

«There’s nothing wrong with a girl being proud of her accomplishments,» Nehemia had reprimanded him before turning to face Aelin again. «Especially in such a male dominated sport. I always got the sense that you were a true competitor.» 

Aelin had let loose a little laugh as she responded, «I hope I at least gave you a good chase when I got that silver.»

«Rest assured, you did.» There was a sparkle in Nehemia’s eye as she sat up in her chair, her gaze never dropping from Aelin’s. 

«Those are both rather impressive times for a high schooler.» Coach Maeve’s voice silenced all other whispers and mumbling. «It’s a shame about Hamel, though. At least he can say that he did well on you before his career ended.»

Aelin’s smile had immediately faltered, her thoughts drifting back to the events of the previous spring. No, her own voice cut through the chatter in her mind. I can’t go back there. Not yet. Her gaze had shifted to the floor as she quietly replied, «Sure is.»

«How did you handle the summer season without a coach?» Rowan’s question had cut through the air like a knife. 

Aelin could feel her cousin’s eyes upon her as she looked up, but the only gaze she held was Rowan’s as she responded. «I actually took the summer season off from racing, for personal reasons. I still maintained a training schedule, though. Aedion can vouch for me.»

«She did indeed train with me all summer.» Aedion’s voice was practically music to Aelin’s ears. «We followed the training plan that you sent out, Rowan.»

Maeve had nodded as she interjected, «Impressive.» Rowan had simply narrowed his eyes at Aelin again.

The tan boy at the end of the table had spoken up at that point. «Are your personal issues resolved?» He had looked at Aelin as if she was a puzzle that he was trying to piece together. «That is to say, can you race this fall?»

Aelin had nodded, swallowing a lump that she had not realized had formed in her throat. «Yes,» had been her answer, «I’m ready to crush my old PR’s and add some more medals to my collection.» She flashed a grin at the table, although even she had realized how contrived it felt.

«That’s what we like to hear,» was all Coach Maeve had said. Rowan, again, had simply been glaring at her. «And I think that’s all we have to ask. You may go now. We’ll send the practice schedule for next week out in an email.» Aelin had nodded, immediately turning around and striding towards the door. Upon entering the hallway, she saw a girl with a sleek black ponytail slowly rising the her feet. Once the girl had grabbed the door from Aelin, she began her journey back towards her dorm room, whipping out her phone and sending Aedion a special grocery list. That meeting had left her desiring some fun liquid dinners for the next few nights.

A sharp jab in her ribs brought her back to the present. Ansel was waving her hand in the air like she was Hermione Granger in class during her first year at Hogwarts. «Yes, you may go first.» Rowan called from the stage. Aelin watched his expression wither as he realized who he had called on. 

«Hello,» Ansel began, rubbing her hands to flatten out her black denim skirt as she stood. «My name is Ansel, I’m from Erilea, I’m currently undeclared, and a fun fact about me is that I learned how to ride a horse around the same time I learned how to ride a bike!»

«Thank you, Ansel.» Rowan’s eyes were closed, his hands splayed out in front of him with his palms facing towards the ceiling. «Whoever’s sitting next to you may go next.»

Aelin stood up, smirking right at Rowan as he opened his eyes and inhaled deeply. «Hi, my name is Aelin,» she began, holding eye contact with her RA, «I’m also from Erilea. More specifically, I’m from Orynth, if you know where that is. I’m an English lit major, and a fun fact about me is that I’m a two time national champion in triathlon.» She offered Rowan a wide smile as she retook her seat, cracking her knuckles as she watched him take yet another deep breath. Somewhere in the back of the room, somebody let out a low whistle.

Next to her, Feyre began to rise to her feet. «My name is Feyre, I’m from Prythian, I’m majoring in fine arts and art history, and I know how to shoot a bow and arrow.» Each word flew out of her roommates mouth, and yet her annunciation of each syllable was clean and clear, intentional. Aelin draped one arm around her roommate, and the other around Ansel, looking to her right as Bryce began to take her turn. 

Introductions seemed to drag on forever. Most of them blended together, save for a select few that stuck out in Aelin’s mind. It appeared that Lysandra also happened to be living on their floor, along with another girl by the name of Elide Lochan, who Aelin vaguely remembered from her early childhood. Beyond that, Aelin had kept an ear out for Ansel’s roommates, but all she had taken away from that were that Mor and Fury were definitely, in fact, two very different people. 

Once introductions had finally concluded, and Rowan had deigned to dismiss them, Aelin immediately turned to Ansel. «What room are you in? We can meet you there around ten o’clock and head over to the frat together.» 

Ansel nodded. «Sounds like a plan. We’re in 315.»

«Perfect.» Aelin laced her arms through Feyre’s and Danika’s, and began to walk toward the door. «See you then!»

«What does one even wear to a college party?» Bryce’s voice drifted towards Aelin from where she stood on the other side on Danika.

«Easy,» Danika replied as they neared their door. She deftly unlinked arms with Aelin and pulled her key out of her pocket, pushing the door open and rushing in. «Something flirty and fun, but also a little edgy, and not too nice. This is a frat house, after all.»

Aelin wrinkled her nose, picturing all of the beer that was sure to be coating the floor of the party. «Yeah, don’t wear nice shoes. Non-athletic sneakers usually do the trick - Converse, vans, whatever your style is.» She opened the door to her bedroom, tossing her keys on her desk as she flicked the light switch. With one movement, she threw open the doors to her wardrobe as Feyre entered their bedroom as well, sighing and bypassing her own wardrobe altogether.

Aelin frowned at her roommate, noting the bare walls above her bed as she looked over her shoulder. «You haven’t decorated!»

Feyre waved her off, frowning in the direction of her wardrobe. «I also don’t know what I’m going to wear tonight.»

Aelin gave her a quick once-over, cracking her knuckles and turning to fully face her roommate. «Well, in my expert opinion,» she began, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as she freed it from her messy bun, «your jeans are fine. What are you wearing under your hoodie?» Her eyes darted down to Feyre’s feet, which were in a pair of black vans with tiny white stars splattered all over. «Did you paint your shoes yourself?»

Feyre also looked down at her feet now as she unzipped her hoodie. «Yeah.» She sighed. «All I have on under my hoodie is this red tank top.» 

«The tank top is perfect,» Aelin replied, turning back to her own wardrobe. She eyed a red denim skirt with buttons up and down the entire front, and hastily grabbed it off the hanger. She chucked her jeans into her laundry bin, tucking her black rolling stones t-shirt into her skirt before buttoning it back up again. «I wouldn’t wear those shoes though, if I were you. Do you have anything else?» Aelin looked at her own feet now, sliding off her Birkenstocks in favor of a pair of old black vans.

«I have a pair of knock-off black converse.» Feyre was biting her lip as she tossed her hoodie onto her bed and made her way over to her own wardrobe. She held up the shoes for inspection. They were so worn out and scuffed that they were almost grey in some places. 

«Those are perfect.» 

Aelin moved to their bathroom, which was at the end of their room opposite the windows, and began applying makeup. Feyre, on the other hand, was scrolling on her phone.

«We can take pictures tonight,» Aelin called out to her from the bathroom. «That way you have an actual picture of you to post on your instagram!» 

From their bedroom, she could hear Feyre shoving her phone in the small black purse that had been sitting on her desk, and zipping the bag. After checking her reflection in the mirror, Aelin smiled and flicked off the bathroom light, grabbing her own phone and keys from her desk and scrolling through some notifications. «Hey,» she called, walking into the main room, «Ansel said that they’re pregaming in her room, if you want to go!»

«Hell yeah!» Danika practically ran out of her room, and Aelin couldn’t help but smile. That girl’s energy was contagious. She was wearing a black crop top and the same black skinny jeans she had been wearing earlier, but this time with a grey flannel tied around her hips. Her roommate’s eyes raked over Aelin’s attire before turning to examine Feyre. «We look hot!»

Behind Danika, Bryce exhaled through her nose and smiled. As Aelin took her in, she nodded in agreement with Danika’s previous statement. Bryce wore a skin tight white bodysuit, tucked into a black mini skirt that hugged her hips and thighs. She wore thigh high black boots with a heel that almost made Aelin cringe. As if reading her mind, Bryce reassured her, «Don’t worry, these shoes are almost three years old.»

«For someone who’s never been to a party before, you sure know how to dress.» 

Bryce laughed in reply, already making her way towards the door. «I’ve been dreaming of this day for a long time.» 

«Welcome to your dream come true» Feyre responded with a small eye roll, quietly pulling the dorm door shut behind her. 

Aelin rolled her eyes at the cheesy comment as well as she grabbed her roommate’s hand and all but dragged her down the hall, racing towards Ansel’s room. She could feel her hair fanning out behind her, and hoped that this might give her a more windswept look. Her fist rapped against the door of room 315 three times as Danika and Bryce caught up with her and Feyre, talking in low tones about some city that Aelin vaguely recalled being located in Valbara. The door swung open before she could interrupt their conversation with any questions of her own, though. Ansel greeted the group, wearing a low cut red bodysuit, a black miniskirt, and red high-top converse. «It’s about time!» She gestured towards the room, and Aelin took the cue and entered.

Their room had an almost identical layout to Aelin’s own dorm, which wasn’t surprising. What really caught her eye though were the various handles of flavored vodka sitting on the white plastic table in the middle of the room. A blonde girl emerged from the bedroom on the left side of the room, pursing her lips as she eyed the table as well. Aelin barely noted the dorm door shutting behind them as the blonde said, «I see no mixers on this table, so I’m assuming we’re doing shots?» Her brown eyes flicked over to Ansel, who was making her way to the kitchen herself. She came to stand next to a girl with brown hair that fell in soft curls around her face, accompanied by another girl with narrow eyes and sleek, dark hair. 

Ansel simply sighed, placing her hands on her hips. «I suppose so.» She added, «Good thing I brought shot glasses.» In one quick move, she crossed the kitchen and stood before the cabinets, her hands extending towards the top shelf, which she had to stand on her toes to reach. Her efforts produced eight glasses, which she laid out on the counter one by one.

The brown haired girl began fidgeting with her fingers. «Maybe I shouldn’t. One of us should be sober, right?»

«Juniper, right?» Bryce made her way from the hallway into the kitchen, standing next to Ansel’s roommate, who nodded. «I’m about to take my first shot tonight, and I would be honored to take it side by side with you.» Juniper pursed her lips, eyeing the various handles on the table.

Danika rolled her eyes, taking a spot next to Bryce. «Come on, you dorks! Let’s all take the first shot of the night together.»

Slowly, the remaining girls made their way to the table, and Ansel distributed the shot glasses among them. Aelin decided upon the rose vodka, and filled up her shot glass. She held the handle out over the table, looking around at her companions to see if anybody else wanted it. To her left, Ansel’s blonde roommate grabbed the handle from her hands. «Now this,» she stated as she poured herself a shot, «is the kind of girl power I need in my life.»

Aelin tilted her head back in laughter. «You’re Morrigan, right?»

«Yep!» Her voice was high in pitch, but not shrill. «Most people call me Mor, though.»

«Aelin,» was all Aelin offered in response, taking in the red dress Mor was wearing.

«I remember,» Mor replied, a small smile gracing her lips. 

«Okay, on the count of three!» Ansel’s voice grabbed Aelin’s attention, and she quickly picked up her shot glass. «One, two, three!» The liquid burned as Aelin swallowed it in one gulp, but she reminded herself that the feeling afterward would be well worth it. To her right, Feyre shook her head and made a noise of disgust, sticking her tongue out as she placed her shot glass down on the table.

«First time?» Mor asked at the same time Aelin asked, «What flavor?»

«Yes.» Feyre winced again. «Mango-pineapple.»

Danika shook her head from the adjacent side of the table, already pouring her second shot. «That was your first mistake.»

Bryce simply looked up at her roommate and stated, «You also took a shot of mango-pineapple vodka.»

«Yes, but I never claimed to have good taste.»

Aelin laughed, reaching for her phone, which was on the table. «Before we do more, can we take some pictures?»

Ansel rolled her eyes and grabbed the phone out of Aelin’s hand. «Of course, princess! Where do you want them?»

Several shots, and many pictures later, the eight girls were walking down the sidewalk, the humid summer air wrapping around Aelin like a warm hug. Or maybe the heat was just a side effect of the alcohol. Either way, she wasn’t complaining. It was rather obvious which house was hosting the party, based on the music blaring through the street and the red solo cups that were somehow already strewn along the fence line. Ansel marched the group right up to the front door and into the house, not stopping to look at a single person along the way. Then, they were off. Aelin lost track of her companions as she danced around to songs that she only half knew the lyrics to, jumping until her legs had no more energy left. At that point she dipped into the kitchen. Those red solo cups had to be coming from somewhere, she reasoned. 

The kitchen was rather empty compared to the rest of the house. Only a few people milled about, such as the two men having a conversation while leaning against the counter. Aelin spotted a box of white claws on the floor, and immediately began digging around for her favorite flavor. They couldn’t possibly already be out of lime. After a minute or two of searching, her hand wrapped around her prize, and she stood up, stumbling backwards slightly into a pair of cold hands. 

Hands. Aelin immediately jumped away and spun around, eyeing what she could only describe as the prettiest man she had ever seen. He was now running one hand through his dark hair, his violet eyes meeting hers as he looked up again. «Are you okay?» His voice was as smooth as honey.

«Yeah,» Aelin replied smoothly, cracking open her white claw, «You just scared me, is all.»

«No need to fear,» he said with a breathless laugh. «You’re Aedion’s cousin, aren’t you?»

Aelin rolled her eyes and took a long sip before answering. «Yes, Aedion is my cousin. I’m Aelin, and you are?» She raised one eyebrow at the guy she has just stumbled into.

«Rhysand,» was his reply.

«Are you in this frat?» She took another sip. «Because if so, may I suggest renovating this kitchen?» She gestured towards the appliances to her right. «I think this stove is older than my dad.»

He chuckled, his eyes gazing out over the crowd in the living room. «No, I’m just here to gather information about how this frat is holding their party.»

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him, taking a step away and then turning her gaze back towards the living room. «Oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting some top-secret fraternity intelligence mission?» She spotted Bryce and Danika dancing on top of a coffee table with Juniper and Fury, red solo cups in hand. 

«You could call it that,» Rhysand answered with a shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. Aelin was about to respond when she saw a head full of white hair standing out amongst the rest of the crowd. Her smile fell from her face, and she placed her white claw on the counter. «What’s wrong?» Rhysand’s voice rang out from her left, sounding almost muffled as she watched Rowan Whitethorn weave through the crowd.

«My RA is here,» she nearly whispered, her eyes searching the crowd frantically for her other roommates. Luckily for her, Bryce and Danika were in clear view, moving their bodies to the rhythm of the music on their elevated surface, but Feyre was nowhere to be seen. As soon as Aelin had finished the thought, her eyes locked onto her target. Feyre stood in the middle of the living room, talking to a boy in a green polo and khaki shorts with blonde hair that fell to his chin. Aelin placed a hand on Rhysand’s arm and began to formulate her plan. «Can you distract him while I grab my roommates and get the hell out of here?»

«Yeah, sure. You want me to distract Rowan Whitethorn, right?» His arm fell out from under Aelin’s hand. «On it.»

Aelin took a deep breath and weaved through the crowd towards Feyre, not stopping until she was holding her roommate’s elbow in her hands. «We have to go.» Aelin glanced back over her shoulder once, watching as Rowan narrowed his eyes at Rhysand, who was chattering away. Feyre started to pull away from Aelin’s grip, but Aelin only tightened her hold, looking at her roommate with wide eyes. «Now.»

«It was nice meeting you, Tamlin,» Feyre called over her shoulder as Aelin pulled her towards the coffee table where Danika and Bryce were still dancing. It was nothing short of a miracle that Rowan hadn’t seen them yet. 

Aelin tugged on Danika’s hand, instantly getting her attention. «Rowan’s here. We’ve got to get the hell out of dodge.» Danika nodded, immediately grabbing Bryce and tersely explaining the situation to the two other girls on the table, who also hopped down and weaved their way into the crowd.

The door was Aelin’s only target now. She pulled her roommates in a line through the crowd, ignoring the sweaty bodies that bumped into her along the way. She didn’t let up until their feet hit the sidewalk, and even then her pace didn’t slow. She was relentless in dragging them, quickly buzzing them into their dorm building and calling the elevator, only stopping to catch her breath once they were all inside of it.

«Fuck the RAs!» Danika’s voice echoed in the elevator as she giggled, her laughing only ceasing for a hiccup. «We were having a good-ass time!»

All three girls nodded in agreement, but it was Feyre who spoke first as the elevator doors opened. «Have you ever been in love?» She stumbled slightly as she made her way down the hallway, and Bryce immediately swooped her side.

«No,» was Danika’s near instant answer.

«I mean,» Bryce began, pulling her key out of her boot and unlocking the door. «I dated this guy in high school, named Reid, but he was a douche, so I don’t think we were in love.»

«Fuck Reid,» Danika replied, flopping down onto the couch and stretching out her arms and legs.

«It’s okay, I stole a bottle of wine from his parent’s wine rack right before I broke up with him.» Bryce inclined her head towards the room she shared with Danika. «I still have it, right in my suitcase.»

«We will definitely be cracking that open at some point.» Aelin poured herself  a glass of water right from the kitchen sink as she spoke.

«What about you, Aelin?» Feyre’s eyes met hers from where Bryce had gently sat her down in one of the chairs. Her grey eyes felt like they were drilling into Aelin’s very soul as she asked. «Have you ever been in love?»

Aelin crossed the room and handed Feyre one glass of water before returning to the sink and pouring herself another one, using the sink handles as an excuse to drop Feyre’s gaze. «Yes.» She hated how soft her voice was.

«What was it like?»

Aelin bit her lip, averting her gaze towards the ceiling. «It was all encompassing, like a hug so tight that it could crush me at any moment.»

«Was it Sam?» Feyre’s voice had also gotten soft now, and her eyes were wider than before. Aelin didn’t answer, and instead only reached for her water, hating how her traitorous hand began to shake. «Where is he now?»

She placed the now empty glass on the counter. «Goodnight, girls.» She silently cursed her voice for cracking as she walked towards her bedroom, and pulled the door shut behind her.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Shawn Mendes // Boundaries Part 14

part 14 is here! i’ll start working fulltime on boundaries to finish it finally, i already have another short series almost ready to be posted, so excited about it!!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10  - Part 11 - Part 12  - Part 13

masterlist

3rd person’s POV

Elisa sits in the hallway of the clinic Naya told the driver to go. It all looks expensive and not really a place Naya would be able to afford, but it seemed like it’s not the first time she has been here. The doctor took her into a room and told Elisa to wait our here, so she was left alone with her raging thoughts.

There is so much to process, and she doesn’t even know where to start. The first punch was when Naya admitted to her that she is pregnant. In the emergency she couldn’t even get out a word, and then the second punch hit. Shawn Mendes is the father. She slowly put the pieces together in her head.

Naya was foolish enough to have unprotected sex with her client, get pregnant, and she also has contacted him since she found out, because it really seemed like it’s not a surprise to him when he texted back he is on his way. These two have known it for God knows how long, leaving her out of it completely and she couldn’t deny the fact that it hurt her. She thought they shared everything. They have been through so much together yet Naya still chose not to tell her about the baby and just in general the whole story with Shawn. She never said anything about sleeping with him.

As the minutes passes by Elisa gets more and more upset, emotions are whirling in her like a hurricane and she doesn’t even know what she wants to do first. Whoop Naya’s ass or kill Shawn.

The appearance of the said boy makes the decision easier on her, because when she sees him running towards her in the hallway she jumps to her feet and as soon as he is close enough she grabs the collar of his shirt and gives him a rather strong push that throws him off a bit, stumbling on his feet.

“What the fuck did you do?!” she hisses at him in the loudest she can be at a hospital.

“What?!” Shawn is quite confused, he hasn’t even met Elisa, he was just guessing that the anxious girl waiting at the room they told me Naya would be in is in fact her roomie. “Elisa, I’m sorry you didn’t know about it… I-“

“Did you force her into it? Did you?!” She is starting to raise her voice that makes a few nurses turn their ways. Shawn looks around pulling Elisa to the side.

“Please, we have to be quiet.”

Realizing he is right Elisa tries to contain herself as they take a seat and continue the conversation in a more suitable tone.

“Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I told her to talk to you, but she was so afraid. She has been a wreck since she found out and is trying to hide from the world, but I told her she can’t do it forever. I’m really sorry you had to find out like this.”

Considering his words Elisa realizes the situation is a bit different from what she thought. She takes a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Shawn seeing that she has collected herself he finally asks the important question.

“Okay, what happened? Do we know anything?”

“Um… I really don’t know,” she sighs shaking her head. “It was so fucking scary…” She can feel her throat closing up as she thinks back at the image of her best friend, shaking from pain in the middle of the night, crying out for help.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I woke up to a huge thud. I thought someone broke in, but it was Naya, all curled up from the pain at the dinner table. There was a blood stain on her pants. She barely could talk from the pain, so I called a car and came here as fast as possible. They haven’t said anything since they took her in.”

Shawn runs his fingers through his hair anxiously. He just landed in New York when he got the text. He came home earlier, he wanted to surprise Naya and take her out for a brunch in the morning. It was weird to get a text so late from her, especially since he read the one she sent him before going to bed, so he though she was sleeping. But reading the emergency text he immediately made his way to the clinic as fast as possible. The past couple days have been hard not just on Naya, but on him as well. Finding out he is going to be a dad was shocking and he had a couple of panic attacks alone at home whenever he thought for too long about it, but he was kind of getting used to it and started thinking about it in the most positive way he could. His feeling for Naya never changed, he was actually happy he could spend more time with the girl even though he knew she was having a hard time adjusting the situation.

The thought of losing the baby made him panic again. His first thought was that Naya must be so scared and he wanted nothing more than to just take her pain and all her problems away, but he didn’t have the power to it. Now he feels useless, sitting in the hallway as he has no idea what is going on in the room. Is she still in pain? Did she lose the baby?

After what felt like forever the door opens and a doctor steps out. He looked old, his narrow glasses are pushed up to the top of his head, messing up his grey hair.

“Relatives of Ms. Duvall?” he asks and without hesitation Shawn and Elisa nod immediately as they stand up.

“How is she?” Elisa asks eagerly, wanting nothing more than to know if Naya is okay.

“She is fine. There is nothing to worry about. What happened is that her uterus is starting to change to be able to take care of the baby. The female body goes through extreme changes during a pregnancy, the growth is sudden and this change sometimes is accompanied with strong pain. It’s temporary and normal, don’t worry. Her body is just trying to transform and somehow it was more painful for her than to others.”

Elisa and Shawn both sigh in relief hearing the doctor’s explanation of what really happened. It’s like a whole mountain just fell off of their shoulders right there in the hallway.

“And… what about the blood?” Elisa asks a bit confused.

“Spotting is also normal during pregnancy. Sometimes it’s a sign of infection, but it’s not the case now. Ms. Duvall is perfectly fine, we gave her some painkiller, put her on a quick IV, she is ready to leave as soon as we are done with that. Unfortunately painful cramping might happen again, let’s hope her body is done with that.”

They thank the doctor before he tells them they are allowed to see her and leaves. Walking into the room the lighting is brighter than they were expecting, but when they adjust it they see Naya lying in a hospital bed in the middle of the room. She looks a bit pale, her eyes are heavy, but she has a smile on her face. A very tired smile.

“I’m sorry I scared you both,” she mumbles and Elisa almost immediately starts crying as she rushes to the side of her bed. “Oh my God, don’t cry, you are making me cry!” she pleads as Elisa gives her a light hug, trying not to hurt her in any way.

“You scared the shit out of me! Don’t you dare do this again!” she sobs wiping her tears away.

“Okay, deal. It wasn’t fun for me either,” she chuckles bitterly. Her eyes wonder over to the boy standing at the door, giving them respectfully giving them some time. Elisa notices the look and quickly straightens up.

“I’ll give you two some time to talk, but we are having a conversation later too.” She gives her a meaningful look before turning away and walking out of the room giving them some privacy.

Shawn feels nervous, he hates seeing her so tired and worn out, and he hates the fact that he wasn’t next to her when she needed him even more. He wanders closer, but keeps a small distance, not really knowing how Naya is feeling about him right now. But then she reaches up for him and he moves immediately. Sitting down to the edge of the bed he leans closer as they share a tight hug.

“I thought you are only coming back this afternoon,” she chuckles jokingly when Shawn straightens up, but he takes her free hand and laces their fingers together.

“Finished earlier, and I wanted to surprise you with a brunch, but I guess that plan is now cancelled.”

“I’ll be out of here in a few hours, we can have a very early breakfast.”

Shawn laughs shaking his head. How is she so light and smiley after such a shocking night? It’s another feature he adores in her.

“Naya, you scared the shit out of me. This is exactly why I want you to move in with me, I want to be there when something happens, I want to help you. Please, just-“

“I’ll move in with you,” she says cutting him off. Shawn freezes, totally forgetting about what he was trying to say.

“What?”

“I thought about it, and you are right. I was lucky tonight, Elisa was home, but she often works during the night and I don’t want to be alone if something like this happens again. The only solution is moving in with you.”

Tonight has really opened her eyes. This is not just about her stubborn self anymore, she has to take care of a baby and as much as she wants to do it on her own, tonight she realized she needs help. A pregnancy is challenging even to those who were planning on it, but it was a surprise for her and she now finally sees that she might need every bit of help she can get to make it through these nine months.

Shawn is not able to contain his happiness, leaning closer he presses an open-mouthed kiss on the girl’s lip making her laugh.

“It’ll be so amazing! We can go furniture shopping, I’ll make one of the rooms your closet if you want and then we can start planning the nursery!”

His enthusiasm warms Naya’s heart. Now she really feels like she is not alone. She has Shawn, no matter what is about to come.

-

taglist:  @damnigotadime @jrock-1987 @dacutiehart @ricchhelle @shar-is-my-name@hollandechart

[seungminty]

For granted //Jisung

words: 2.1k

genre: a n g s t 

It’s 1am and I’m trash for angst and Jisung, enjoy.

-mads <3

part 2

Friday, 11:54pm

I sighed when I saw the time as I checked my phone yet again. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I mindlessly clicked on another episode of Brooklyn 99, snuggling deeper into my blanket in an attempt to distract myself from the tears that were slowly gathering at the corners of my eyes. Jisung had said he would facetime me after rehearsals, but after 4 hours of radio silence, I was quickly losing hope. 

Not like I should be surprised.

This had become a regular occurrence in our relationship throughout the past few months; I’d plan dates, he’d cancel them. We’d hang out, he’d work the whole time. We’d argue, he’d come back a few days later, full of flowers and apologies, and I’d fall for him all over again. 

Don’t get me wrong, of course I knew that dating an idol would bring challenges, especially since Stray Kids were so well-known, as well as being self-producing. And for a while, we actually made it work. Yeah, Jisung worked most of the time, but I was also busy with college and my waitressing job. However, we always found time for each other, even if it was just Jisung popping into the cafe to give me lunch, or a pizza night with the boys. 

So yeah, I knew it would be hard, just not... not this hard. 

It wasn't like he’d gotten busier, he was always busy, so was I, but he just didn't make the effort anymore. Every time he cancelled on me to hang with the boys or ignored my good morning texts, my heart broke just a little bit more. We’d argue about his newfound attitude often, but it seemed to tear me apart far more than it did him. Before I could fully explain the extent of the loneliness I felt inside, he would cut me off and accuse me of being too clingy, with many insults thrown in too. He would later blame his foul words on stress, but I had heard that excuse so many times I didn't know what to believe anymore. One thing was certain, though, Jisung had changed. We had changed. I wasn't a priority anymore, and it was destroying me. 

 There had always been a small part of me that still believed this was just a phase, that we could go back to the old us. But I soon realized that that was impossible. I knew that Jisung still loved me, and I knew that he still had a heart of gold, but I couldn't figure out for the life of me why he didn't want to invest time in us anymore.

I guess we're just on different paths now. 

I was suddenly pulled from my depressing train of thought by my phone. Jisung’s name on my phone screen had become such a rare sight that I stared at my lock screen for several seconds before actually reading the text.

Sorry went to the studio after practice and lost track of time.

The studio. That damn studio. 

It was once a place filled up with happy memories, memories of Jisung giddily showing me a hook he’d finally perfected, or lyrics that he’d say I inspired him to write, which always caused both our cheeks to tint pink.

But now, it was the place my boyfriend chose over me, time and time again. I always admired his passion for music, and the last thing I wanted was to be one of those annoying girlfriends who want their boyfriend to only ever spend time with her, but was it really so bad that I wanted my boyfriend to make me feel important every once in a while?

These were the thoughts circulating in my head as I quickly pulled on my shoes and walked out the door towards the studio. By this point, I was so hurt and confused, I didn't have the faintest idea of what I was going to say to Jisung, I just knew that I had to see him. I had to make the pain stop.

I arrived at the studio sooner than I had expected, and a quick glance at the clock above the desk in the darkened reception area revealed that it was a little past 1am.

Wow, what a fun way to be spending your Friday night, y/n.

I sighed as I stood outside his studio door, doing my best to prepare myself for what was to come, whatever the hell that was.

Eventually, I plucked up the courage to open the door, and it creaked open agonisingly slowly to reveal a mop of tangled blonde hair, slumped at a mixing board. I walked up to him, thinking he was asleep, and was about to wake him up when he suddenly spun around towards me, eyes wide and mouth agape, clearly startled by my visit.

“Hey” he stated, his voice deep with exhaustion.

“Oh, hey” I managed to breathe out, my mouth had become dry the moment I walked in, like my subconscious knew that something big was going to go down tonight. 

We remained in an awkward silence for a while, none of us knowing how to react to this new dynamic. Life was Jisung was never quiet, ever. 

“I’m sorry.” He said suddenly. 

I looked him properly in the eyes for the first time that night, and I couldn't hide the puzzled expression on my face.

“Oh...uh, what for? It was just a facetime call, no biggie.”

No biggie? Really? Not like you wallowed in your sadness while finishing off a whole damn tub of ice cream, y/n.

Jisung looked even more shocked than me now, shaking his head and laughing lightly before speaking again.

“Oh, ok that’s fine then. Thought I missed a date or something like that. So how come you’re here then, shouldn’t you be asleep?”.

Even though I had played it off as nothing earlier, I still felt my heart sink at his statement. There was a time when Jisung would've apologised a hundred times over for forgetting to text me goodnight, now he’s so distant he doesn’t even really know what he’s apologising for.

“I, I uh, I just wanted to see you, and I don’t know, have a chat about stuff?” My words came out more like a question, and I cringed at how awkward it sounded. Jisung sighed, running his hands down his face.

“I guess, but I’ve still got this guide track to finish and its getting late, maybe some other time yeah?” He said, already turning back round in his chair.

“No, Jisung, I need to talk, and you need to listen to me,” I stated, my voice so loud that it startled both of us. 

“Right... Y-yeah sure y/n, um... what’s up?” He gulped, wide-eyed and still taken aback by my tone. I was never really one to raise my voice, but I was desperate now, trying to stitch up our fractured love before it disappeared forever.

But then, I realised. I don't think there’s any love left to fix.

I took a deep breath, trying my hardest to steel my nerves before saying the words I vowed I never would.

“Ji, this isn’t working. We... we aren’t working anymore.”

Those words hung Over the silent room like a thick black veil, suffocating me, and as I hesitantly looked at Jisung, it seemed like they were suffocating him too. He was frozen, staring at the ground in shock, before jerking his head up to search my face with panicked eyes as his hands began to shake.

“I-I... no, you can’t... we’re not, it’s fine-” He spluttered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. I watched with pained eyes as the man I loved unravelled before me, and it was all my fault.

His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to actually say anything, I began to speak, doing my best not to burst into tears.

“Things are just different now. You’re always so busy and that’s great, I'm so so proud of you, but there just isn't enough room for me in your life anymore. We never hang out, and when we do we just argue. And I'm sorry, but I just can't take it anymore, I can't take anymore cancelled dates or ignored messages, because it's destroying me, Jisung. And yes, maybe I am just weak and clingy, but I've got to put myself first for once because god-fucking-damn it Jisung, I've been so sad for so fucking long, and my own boyfriend has no idea!” By the end of my speech, I was nearly screaming, and I quickly realised that the dampness on my cheeks was from the many tears that were now uncontrollably cascading down my face. 

Now, the only sounds in the room were my slight panting and the occasional sniffle. Jisung remained unblinking, still frozen in the same position. It wasn't until I shook my head and turned towards the door that he reached forward and grabbed my arm.

“No!” he shouted, panic clear in his voice. I looked at him, he too, had tears streaming down now, the sight making what was left of my poor heart shatter.

“No... you can’t leave, I’m sorry ok? Really sorry. I-I took you for granted. You were always by my side so I guess I thought you’d stay there forever, because I honestly can’t imagine my world without you in it y/n, standing right next to me. I know I’m a shit boyfriend, and hearing how hurt you are because... because of me, kills me more than you’ll ever know. Honestly, this comeback had me feeling stressed out and down I didn't know what to do, but now I realise, that the only thing that could've made me feel happy again.. was you. Of course it was you. You are my heaven y/n, and I swear I’ll never desert you again. I’m such a fucking idiot, I was so sad that I pushed you away, even though you're the only one who can make me happy.” He laughed bitterly, but his expression quickly reverted to fear as he saw me shaking my head, tears still endlessly falling. 

“I’m sorry Jisung... but I just can’t fall for your apologies again. My heart can’t take any more of this, but I'm sure you'll find a-a nice girl... maybe an idol, someone who’s pretty and isn't so weak that they fall apart like me.” I began to walk away again, determined not to turn back again, in fear that I’d break down even further. 

Behind me, Jisung was really panicking now. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He knew hed been a shitty boyfriend. But he thought that soon he’d feel less stressed and everything would go back to normal. They were Jisung and y/n, they were madly in love and everyone knew it, they couldn’t just break up like this. It was only when I had reached for the door handle did he react. 

“Angel, please.”

I hesitated at those words. 

 Angel. Even thinking of his pet name for me made me want to break down. It reminded me of happier times, when we were so in love we felt we were invincible, a feeling that was all but a distant memory now. 

Against my better judgment, I turned round to see Jisung slumped on the floor on his knees, head bowed and body shaking with sobs. 

I knew what I had to do. I knew what was best, for both of us. 

“I love you Jisung, and know that I’ll always be cheering you on, always.”

I took one last look at the boy who held my heart so tightly that he’d crushed it, before moving to the door, shutting it quietly behind me.

 FIN.

[les-eaux-d-eunoe-blog]

From Atheist to Pantheist to Catholic - My Conversion Story

These are only life events, and cover the Faith part of the Faith + Reason equation. I’ll need to dedicate another post to the philosophical and theological path that occurred in tandem with these events.

I hope you enjoy. :) It’s been a wild ride.

---

-  I am very young and at swimming lessons for the first time. I must be 3 or 4. I fall off the platforms designed to keep our heads above water. No one notices at first. But I am not afraid, just drifting towards a light before I am suddenly yanked out of the water and coughing profusely.

- I attend Sunday school at the insistence of my Grandma. My dad is annoyed. I come home and ask my papa about God. My dad tells me that God is made up. Later in life he tells me he rejected religion when I was born, because he couldn’t understand how a pure and beautiful child could be stained by sin. He devoted his life to science after that. 

This made perfect sense to me, and I carried this attitude with me throughout my life. I became a very critical observer, especially in regards to organized religion.

- My Catholic grandparents bring us to Christmas mass (and continue to do so every year.) My mom is preoccupied with keeping my sister and I quiet. My young brother causes scandal by slipping out of the pew and taking communion unbaptized. He can’t be more than 6, and just wants to participate. (He is now a Christian, for what it’s worth) 

- I backpack in the Wyoming wilderness with my family around age 10. I feel a sense of peace on the mountain rimmed shore of Tomahawk lake. I feel a pattern in the grandeur, a true and humbling sense of awe. I feel something Godlike.  I tell my pop, and he just smiles at me and ruffles my hair.

- I experience manipulation and physical trauma at the hands of peers I place trust in as a child and teen, which scar me deeply.

- I have several night terrors / hypnagogia as a teen where I experience ghosts, and once, a demon. I’m deeply disturbed by these experiences and don’t know how to integrate them into my beliefs as an atheist. 

- My mom tries to help my bad teen acne and irregular cycles by putting me on birth control.

- I’m an average student, and a decent athlete. School is just okay. I don’t excel at much and prefer listening to music and painting in my room. I become interested in boys.

- I graduate high school, start college, and then promptly drop out. My parents kick me out of the house. I spend two years living with a boyfriend and experimenting with weed and hallucinogens.

- My dad asks me to visit my devoutly Catholic great-grandmother Olive once a month in a nursing home at the height of my rebellion. She sees nothing but good in me, despite me feeling utterly fallen. She loves me immensely, and keeps poems I wrote as a young girl in with her collection of favorite prayers.

- My boyfriend becomes abusive and the economy collapses. I lose my job, and eventually break up with him. I ask my parents for forgiveness and move back home. I return to college.

- I discover pantheism, and feel like I’ve finally found a name for the Godlike awe I’ve been chasing since I was a girl on the lakeshore.

- Eventually, my great-grandma Olive succumbs to dementia. I receive a small inheritance from her, which I put towards the cost of completing a French study abroad at a university in Normandy.

- In Normandy, I feel close to the spirit of my great-grandma Olive. Our program includes visits to churches, monasteries, and reliquaries with weekly if not daily frequency. Everything is ancient. I feel sad and disconnected from my American peers, estranged from Norman locals by the language barrier, but form a tight bond with my host family. I spend a lot of time wandering the narrow streets and drinking wine and cidre in cafés trying to make sense of the world. I buy ranunculus and place them on my night stand.  I find solace in the Gothic architecture, and in the tiny orchard towns of the Old Country.

- The last week of my time in France, we visit Paris. My program director arranges for us to attend mass at Notre-Dame de Paris. There are incense and Gregorian chants. Part of the mass is in Latin, the rest is in French. I sketch the vaulted ceilings. I shake hands with a kind-eyed stranger behind me and wish him peace in English, knowing he may not understand my words but feels my intention. After mass, I walk between the arches, and I cry.

- After returning home, I spend a quick summer in my hometown, and pack to leave for Chicago to pursue a bacheor’s degree. I love Chicago and make friends. My first Easter there, I try to find a Catholic church and talk a new boyfriend into coming with me. I dress up and wear a new silk hat. He hates the service and asks if we can leave. I say no and am disappointed in him, despite neither of us being Catholic. I feel, for some reason, I should be there. Maybe because it makes me feel connected to my great-grandmother. We leave and eat strawberries in Millennium park.

- I move out of the dorms and into other neighborhoods. Subsequent years I begin to practice Lent, because I like the principle of it. It seems like a really positive challenge to me. I don’t make the mistake of dragging others with me to Easter mass anymore.

- I graduate college and struggle to find meaningful employment. My body is in tremendous amounts of pain. The doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong with me though. I quit hormonal birth control to see if it helps. My body reels and tries to stabilize without the consistent dose of hormones I’ve been taking daily for the last decade. I fall into an inconsolable and deep depression for the next two years 

- An acquaintance asks me to join a band. As music has been the silver thread pulling me through the darkness, I agree wholeheartedly.

I learn to play bass, and duet vocals with him as he plays lush, reverby guitar and sings in a low timbre. Over the course of the year, we fall in love. He’s tall, serious, dark, with electric blue-green eyes. He’s fiercely intelligent. His smile makes my heart leap from my chest. His name is M.

- One weekend M. and I are spending the morning together, and he casually asks if I’d like to go to Easter mass with him the next day. I’m overcome with surprised joy and happily agree. I dress up once again, and I smile at him with this unexplained feeling of pride as he leaves my side to go take the Eucharist.

- I continue to struggle with my mental health. M. really loves me and encourages me to find a therapist. I do. We find out I have PMDD, and I begin, slowly, working on improving my health.

- My grandpapa is suddenly diagnosed with stomach cancer and is placed in hospice. I fly out immediately to be with him and my family. Within the week, he’s gone. My family grieves in the small hospice chapel. I find myself praying for the peace of his soul.

During this trip, my grandmother is diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s, which breaks my heart. I feel like, in a way, I’ve lost both of my grandparents twenty years too early. I return home.

- My relationship progresses with M. He is a cradle Catholic, but isn’t especially devout. It’s a somber year. The next Easter rolls around, and I once again practice lent. I give up alcohol. Despite still not feeling especially Catholic myself, I begin reading the Bible, starting with the gospels “as a cultural experience.” I think it’s some kind of effort to connect with my roots. I read them on the train as I ride to the record store that I work at.

- One morning on the train, I read the parable of the 10 Virgins. I’ve never heard it before, and I don’t quite understand it. I re-read it over and over again. When I get to work, one of my co-workers is playing Johnny Cash.

- The song playing is "When the Man Comes Around." I am shocked to hear the parable of the 10 virgins in the song.  And I start to wonder if what I’m reading maybe is actually trying to speak to me. So I don’t stop.

- Intrigued by my experience, I decide to fast deeply during lent. Out of curiosity, one evening in my room I try to talk to Jesus for the first time and introduce myself. Nothing spectacular happens, but the room seems to smell like sawdust and sweet wood, and I feel peaceful.

- That Easter, M.’s parents are visiting and invite us to the candlelit vigil service. It’s in a church that’s hundreds of years old called St. Michael’s. The choir is perfect and well practiced, and they sing a Capella. I watch the baptisms of the excited canidates and catechumens, dressed in their special outfits, with happy spouses looking on. I feel this sudden yearning to be one of them. I’m delirious from fasting and feel as if I’m floating. I silently cry again, and think about my grandma, great grandma, and grandpapa. We go out to dinner together and the food tastes incredible after the fast.

- In the weeks following, I keep reading the bible. It becomes my secret.

- M. and I decide to move to Arizona together, to find a better life. We are living paycheck to paycheck, and feel like we might find more gainful employment there.  When we arrive, I spend most mornings standing on the edge of desert landscape, trying to achieve deep meditation to help with my mental health. I memorize the “Our Father” prayer, and say it at the beginning of each session.

- M. and I talk about maybe having children someday. He says that he thinks he might want his kids to go to Catholic school, like he did.

- At this point, I’m already deeply fascinated with Catholicism. I read about saints as I commute around town. I read about the formation of the bible and the desert fathers, I decide that I might want to maybe be Catholic. Then I find out what’s involved. The lengthy process of RCIA keeps me away, and I worry about what my fallen-away father would think. So I keep reading in secret instead.

- I want to donate to a food drive, so M. helps me find a local church to take food to for thanksgiving. They have a prayer shawl ministry. I really want to learn how to knit, so I join, despite not being Catholic or belonging to the parish.

- Months later, I become fascinated with the rosary. I decide to pray a “virtual rosary.” During that experience, I see the Virgin Mary in my mind’s eye. I see her as the female form, then as my own body. I recognize that I’m holding a lot of insecurity and tension in my body as sexual shame. Suddenly, I see my female form as completely beautiful and natural. I feel freedom and peace from that shame I’ve been carrying since I was a child. I don’t know much about the Virgin Mary, but I know that I need to learn more.

- That very night, my boyfriend and I go to see The Smashing Pumpkins. The whole set is filled with imagery referring to the Virgin Mary. I find myself saying the Hail Mary prayer in my head, over and over again. It glitters in my mind like it’s made of gold.

- I read more and more about Our Lady. And I find a small coin necklace with her image. It glitters just like the prayer. I make a pact with myself that if I decide to buy the necklace, that I’ll join RCIA.

- A few days later, I decide to buy the necklace.

- That Sunday, I feel compelled to go to mass alone, even though I’ve never done that before. I walk there. At the end of the service, the church announces its new RCIA director, who I meet after the mass. And I begin the inquiry process within weeks.

[written-s0ul]

Misdialed (Epilogue)

REQUEST. I really liked that AU you reblogged that was like you have the wrong number but you sound pretty upset about that person, wanna talk it out, if you want could you write a Steve Rogers x Reader fic based off of that please. From anon.

SUMMARY. Lawyer AU. Steve Rogers x Reader. Your boss gives the case you’ve been working so hard on to someone else. Out of anger, you call a friend to rant — only to realize that you called the wrong number.

WARNINGS. Fluff and fluff and awkward Steve and did I say fluff?

WORD COUNT. 1k+

AUTHOR’S NOTES. THIS IS IT. This is the last of it! I hope you guys really enjoyed this story, I certainly did while writing it. (: Let me know all your thoughts!

#1 / #2 / #3 / #4 / epilogue: you are here

Steve shut the door behind him, then turned to you, eyes half-lidded and one corner of his lips pulled up. “You ready?”

A shiver snaked down your spine, the hair on your arms standing erect. 

You nodded.

Just then, a few strong, chilly breezes whipped past you, your clothes and hair slapping your skin. Steve had to step back, bringing an arm up to shield his face.

Shaking it off, you smoothed down your clothes and wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, glancing up at the sidewalk. New York at eleven o’clock in the evening, just a few weeks before Christmas seemed quiet; store windows shuttered up, streetlights blinking a dull orange, only one or two vehicles passing by. It was peaceful. Matching exactly the current flow of your night: slow and tranquil, after a treacherous morning storm.

You looked up at Steve. He put his arm down from another passing breeze, and met your gaze. You beamed, more brilliant than the stars in the night sky of the countryside, shimmering like diamonds on a velvet cushion. It could challenge his own stunning smile.

Both of you turned away from the entrance doors of the office, and began walking down the sidewalk, pace leisure and relaxed. He glanced at you, one corner of his lips up. “Someone’s happy.”

You looked down at your feet, almost bashful, then lips twisting, said: “I never got to thank you.”

He shook his head, waving a dismissive hand. “No need. I’m glad I can help.”

The weight and meaning of your next words coiled your insides, like a fork gathering pasta, spinning and spinning and spinning. Your heart hammered a little faster. Clearing your throat, you looked at him. “Why did you help me?” you asked. “It’s not like we’re close friends or anything.”

He frowned. “I didn’t really do anything …”

“I wouldn’t have gotten back the Wakanda case without your help,” you said, tone pointed. 

“To be honest, I’m sure you still would’ve–”

“Steve.”

“Alright, alright.” He pulled his coat tighter around him, heaving out a resigned breath as his gaze looked up to a nearby stuttering streetlight. “Let’s just say I know what it’s like to not be good enough for something you want.”

You cocked a brow. There was a story behind those words, quite a compelling one too – what could make a person like this, someone with this much initiative and softness and assertiveness and goodness feel so inadequate? You pondered possible scenarios, even considered asking. But it might be too personal – especially now, as a colleague, and not just some stranger on the other side of the telephone line.

“And I guess,” he said, eyes glancing down and brows furrowing. He cleared his throat, like a lanky, awkward teenager, so unlike the self-assured professional earlier today, and – was that the orange glow of the streetlights on his cheeks, or – “I was hoping to hear your voice again.”

You froze. Wait, what? What was that supposed to –

“Over dinner.”

What?

Was he … was he seriously –

“But I understand, you know, if you decline, uh, this offer,” he said, shifting his weight from one leg to another, eyes darting from the ground to the sky to the side to everywhere but you. “I know we’re working together, and it could be, uh, strange to be going out while being colleagues, in the same office, and especially in the same case–”

You knew the answer already. “Sure.”

He blinked. Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. “Sure?”

Your heart was practically nodding along with your head. “I’m sure.”

For a beat, he stood there, unmoving and uncertain. “You – you’re not doing this out of gratitude, are you? I don’t want you feeling like you owe me after today–”

“No! God no,” you said, shaking your head. You knew better than to do that. “This is me, fully agreeing, because I just – I want to.” You looked up, never more certain than the next words you were about to say. “I want to have dinner with you.”

He stared, stunned. Then, with just a flutter of his eyelashes, he was back to life, his legs shuffling and his lips stretching to that familiar brilliant smile, somehow now brighter than before. “Okay, okay. Is Friday–”

“But–” You stepped back, realizing the instantaneity of your decision.

His smile wavered. “But?”

“Only after this case,” you said, at first sheepish, then more resolute, as you met his eyes, a twinkling pair of blue, like the clear shore waters of some secluded island. “We can’t afford not to give all we can to this, it’s–”

“Okay,” he said.

You blinked, eyelashes fluttering, uncertain. “Okay?”

He nodded, his smile less bright but still firm. “You’re right. It’s only, well, right.”

Shoulders slumping, a relieved breath slid past your lips, glad he understood. But then again, how could he not? The fact that he hadn’t dropped your misdialed call last night and instead, offered a listening ear and even a few reassuring words, proved the kind of compassionate, understanding guy he was. It was almost tempting to say screw it, let’s get dinner. But no, this case has to go first. They cannot afford any distractions – even incredibly tempting ones, such as he and his offer. Damn it, you can’t wait to get this done and over with.

“Can I, um,” Steve said, pulling out of your thoughts. He shuffled his feet, corners of his lips twitched up to a sheepish, boyish smile. The sight of it tugged your heartstrings. “Can I at least take you home tonight?”

The cold air was refreshing as it caressed your flushed cheeks, now pulled up to a small, delighted grin. Well, that wouldn’t hurt. “I’d like that.”

Hesitantly but with an apparent great amount of courage, he offered his arm. You took it, hooking yours into his, and welcomed the warmth that coursed through your interlocked arms, even with the layers of clothing in between. Both of you turned ahead and walked forward, resuming your walk home in companionable silence. That was, until he cleared his throat.

“So, uh, about my best friend being a dick …”

You groaned into your hand, neck heating up. “Please tell me you didn’t tell him that.”

His laughter rang clear and loud in the winter night. “Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t have to,” he said. “He already knows.”

A/N. I’ve learned that balancing work and pleasure is quite a challenge, and I feel like the Reader character here would know better than to. (: And Steve is such an adorable dork. Lol. Thanks for all the support, dear readers! Love to hear all your thoughts!

Tagging: (If you’d like to be tagged to the story or permanently, let me know!)

@courtneychicken @riddikuluslyemily @zadyalyss @iamwarrenspeace @smilexcaptainx @coltcas @mymarvelobsessions @magickandmoons @sheep-demon @a-girl-who-loves-disney @bexsbaxters @l-tay @flowxrsforyourgrxve @acunningstargazer @chook007 @echointhelibrary

[roxyspearing]

Like old times

This is my entry for @amanda-teaches and her undercover hunting challenge, celebrating her reaching 500 followers (woo!) The job I picked for our boys to go undercover in was *drum roll* personal trainers! So, let's get physical, shall we?

Word count: 3,929 - this is by far the longest fic I've done, and I'm not sorry for a single word of this.

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean, a couple of original characters

Warnings: besides the amount of time it's going to take you to read this? One sassy as fuck reader, canon level violence and death, violence and injury to reader, a lot of swearing, SMUT - oral (female receiving) sexual intercourse (semi protected as reader's on the pill - always practise safe sex people!)

If I've tagged you and smut isn't your thing I apologize! Also, feedback is much appreciated - this is only my second proper time writing smut!

“Sam?”

The voice at the other end of the phone is quiet, and it takes Sam a minute in his half asleep state to realise who is calling him.

“Y/N?”

“Hey. I’m sorry to call so early, but...well, I need your help.”

“OK, remind me again who this friend is that has us up and on the road at...7:34 in the morning?” queries Dean as he points the impala out of the bunker's garage and onto the main road.

“Like I said, I know them from Stanford...”

“And they know what we do?”

“Yeah, there was a hunt a few years back...”

“And why is he calling you?”

Sam goes to reply then stops as Dean's words register in his brain. A second or two passes, and then he decides to go along with it, let Dean get a little surprise when they finally get to Denver, Colorado.

“He wouldn’t be calling unless he really needed my help.”

“Well, this better be good to have us up at the crack of dawn.”

“It will be.”

The 6 hour drive only takes just over 4 what with Dean's lead foot and the lack of traffic at this time of day, and soon Sam is directing Dean to the address Y/N gave them.

“We're meeting this guy at a gym?”

Sam smirks to himself as he leaves Dean to fill the meter and heads in to the gym.

“Hi, welcome to Fitness 24. How may I help you?” the receptionist smiles.

“Hi, could you let Y/N know that Sam Winchester is here to see her please?”

“Of course, she let us know that she was expecting you. I'll just give her a call.”

The receptionist has just put the phone down when Dean walks in, still grumbling. They stand there for a couple of minutes, and then the sound of high heels clicking on the marble floor reaches their ears.

“You got here sooner then I was expecting you to, Samuel.”

The sound of your voice has both Winchesters turning on the spot.

“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s Sam, not Samuel.”

Laughing, you throw your arms around Sam's waist and hug him tight. As you pull back, you can see another man staring at the two of you in disbelief.

“Probably the same number of times I've told you it’s Y/N/N, not Y/N.” Rising up onto your tiptoes, because even in your heels Sam still has like a foot on you, you plant a soft kiss onto his cheek. “Abby, can you divert all my calls for a bit?”

“No problem boss” the girl behind the reception desk replies.

“Right, let's take this up to my office, talk in comfort. And if you could get your jaw off my floor, that would be lovely, thanks.” That last sentence is directed towards Dean, who still hasn’t uttered a word.

You lead the way, and once in your office, you thump Sam in the arm.

“Ow! What the hell...”

“That was for lying to your brother! Because going by that face on him, he sure wasn’t expecting a woman to be stood here.”

“No, I wasn't.” Dean says, having managed to find his voice again.

“To be fair, you did think Y/N/N was a man.”

“Excuse me?” you ask, as you sit down behind your desk.

“I may, possibly, have just assumed you were a guy?” Dean mumbles.

“Hmmm. Yeah, the tits kind of put a kibosh in that. Sit down would you? This craning my neck to look at you two giants business is starting to hurt.”

Sam chuckles at your words as he and Dean sit in the chairs on the other side of your desk.

“You haven’t changed.”

“Same can’t be said for you honey. You trying to be a real life Rapunzel with that hair?” You smile as Sam flips you the bird and Dean bends over double laughing. “Right, let’s do this properly, shall we? Dean, nice to meet you. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Likewise. So, you know Sammy from Stanford?”

“Sammy?” You cock your head in his direction and bite back a grin.

“No.”

“OK, not Sammy. Yeah, we went to Stanford together.”

“But...”

“I'm not a lawyer?” Dean nods in response. “Yeah, that was too dull for me. I did anatomy and physiology, with a business degree as my minor.”

“Then how did you two meet?”

“In the gym actually. Sam gave me sparring tips.”

“Y/N's got one hell of a right hook” Sam pipes up.

“OK. So, how is it you know about...” Dean’s question trails off, unsure of how to say it.

“Demons and angels and all that hoo-ha?”

Dean nods again, reminding you of one of those nodding head toys you stick on your car dashboard.

“Well, I hadn’t seen this one since he'd upped and left from Stanford, then a couple years back I was visiting some family of mine and nearly got killed by a vampire. That face you had at seeing me? That’s what mine looked like when I realised the bloke who had just chopped off someone else's head was Sam here.” you explain, and as you kind of expected, Dean barely bats an eyelid.

“When I left, having given ‘this one’ the whole ‘monsters are real, here's how to protect yourself’ talk” Sam glances over and shakes his head at you mouthing ‘fuck you’ to him for using your words against you “I gave her my number and told her to keep in touch. You didn’t until this morning though.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, I need your help.”

Sam and Dean look at one another, and you swear you can see an entire conversation take place.

“OK Y/N, tell us what's going on.”

A couple of hours later, and the Winchesters and yourself have come up with a plan. You had been hoping that it was just a series of weird accidents that had caused the deaths of 3 people, but when two more people had died - in your gym no less - you'd known that something was up. Thank God you'd kept Sam's number. It had been a shock when he'd saved you from certain death, even more of a shock when he'd explained that monsters were real and that was why he'd dropped out of college with half a semester to go. But he and his brother obviously knew what they were talking about and you certaainly needed every bit of help you could get. Especially when you were in danger of being shut down. The gym was your life, and you'd put everything you had and more into sorting out not just this place, but your new branch, ironically enough not too far from the brothers.

“So, a witch?”

“Yep” Dean glanced over at you as he shut the locker door. “Evidence of hex bags on at least 3 of the victims.”

“And you think it's one of my staff?”

“All the victims were members of your gym Y/N.” you turn to Sam, sat tying his shoe laces “A member of staff would easily be able to get access to their belongings.”

“Well, good thing my two newest employees have passed their background checks then.”

The plan was simple: Sam and Dean would pose as your two newest trainers. After all, they certainly had the bodies for it.

“So, as personal trainers, that gives you guys access to the entire building.”

“Who else has access like that? We'll start with them and work our way down til we find this bitch.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, and giggled when Sam not-so-quietly whispered ‘that Dean hates witches.’

“I am right there with you on this one Dean. Right, well, obviously me, but I'm good right?” Dean and Sam both nod at you and you continue on “The three other personal trainers, the head of the cleaning company I use, oh and Abby.”

“The receptionist?” Sam queries.

“Yeah, she's got a back up set of keys in case one of the other sets gets misplaced or broken. But they’ve never been needed.”

“Thanks Y/N.”

“Just find this person. Please?”

4 days later, and the witch still hasn’t been found. And someone else had nearly died, would’ve died if Dean hadn’t ran up a flight of stairs, broken into their locker and burned the hex bag. Sitting in your office, you rubbed your throbbing temples and wondered just how your life had ended up at this point. It was only the ringing of your phone that pulled you back to the here and now.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N/N, only us.” came Dean's voice.

“How goes it boys?”

As well as being undercover at your gym, which had seen a definite increase in female clientele, Sam and Dean were also running surveillance and research on everyone. You were certain they hadn’t slept properly since they had arrived.

“Pretty dull so far to be honest.”

“Are you sure it's Paul?” you asked once more. You wanted this witch found and burned (even though you knew from Sam that one of the only sure fire ways to end a witch was with a special bullet they'd made) but it still tore at you that the person responsible could be one of your oldest employees.

“I know we haven’t found any hard evidence Y/N, but he was the trainer to 4 of the victims, and did the initial assessment for victim number 5 and the guy Dean saved the other day.” Sam said.

“Damn it.”

“Sorry. You still at the gym?”

“Yeah, gotta go through this mountain of paperwork before I get inspected for negligence...oh, too late. I’m getting inspected.”

“We'll find this witch, Y/N. We won’t let you lose your business.”

“Thanks Samuel.”

“You're welcome. You’re not there alone are you?”

“Abby just left 5 minutes ago. I promise, I'll call it a ni...”

“Shit Y/N/N, we gotta go, something's happening!” The end call tone beeped incessantly in your ear until you put the phone down. There was only one thing for it – chocolate. Making your way downstairs, you headed over to the reception desk, knowing that Abby kept a secret stash of peanut butter cups in the bottom drawer. Pulling it open, you froze. For there wasn’t any chocolate-y goodness that you had been looking for. But there was several of the hex bags just like the ones in the pictures Dean had shown you.

“What the-” And then the blow to the back of your head sent you into darkness.

Owwwww. That was the overwhelming thought going through your mind as you regained consciousness. What the hell had just happened? Your mind went back and forth trying to remember, and as the image of the reception desk drawer came into focus, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp.

“Oh good. You’re awake. I was worried I’d hit you a bit too hard.” The taunting tone almost went in one ear and out the other, but you finally got your senses back and looked up to see Abby stood in front of you, large knife in hand. Quickly glancing round, you realised you were in your office, tied to one of the chairs.

“You?”

“Me. Nothing personal Y/N.”

“Nothing personal?!” you scoffed.

“Well, not at first. The last couple were. It was just sheer coincidence they all came here. After all, I was killing them because they’re lying, cheating scumbags.”

“Oh, of course. Perfectly understandable.”

“And of course that last one was your fault. Calling in the Winchesters? Bad move boss.” Abby said, sarcasm dripping off that last word.

“You know the Winchesters?” As the two off you talked, you could feel the ropes around your wrists loosening with every small movement you made. Maybe if you kept her talking long enough, you could break free long enough to call Sam and Dean.

“Everyone knows who the Winchesters are. Though I didn’t think you knew who they were. That was a surprise.”

“What can I say? Girl’s gotta have some secrets.” you smirked at her, and her response was to stab you in the thigh. Crying out from the sudden pain, you blinked back tears to see the door to your office fly open and Sam and Dean run in.

“About time boys!” Abby yelled, turning her back to you and with a wave of her arm throwing Sam and Dean to the walls and keeping them pinned there “I thought I was gonna have to kill little Y/N here without an audience. Tell me, how’s Paul?”

“Still alive, even with your little attack on him” Dean grunted out.

“Oh well, can’t win them all. But killing you two, and this one?” Both Winchesters gritting their teeth in barely contained anger at Abby’s words “That's definitely a win. Now, shall we hurry and finish this thing?”

“I couldn’t agree more.” you said, and Abby turned to see you stood directly behind her, ropes still round your wrist on one hand, victorious smile on your face from having broken free while she was distracted.

“What the-” That delicious bit of irony made you smile even harder, as her words were cut short by your right fist slamming itself right into her face. A roundhouse kick followed, and you had broken Abby’s focus long enough for Sam and Dean to be let go. As the two got their breath back and scrambled for their guns, you and Abby continued to fight. She might have taken the self defence classes you put on at the gym every other week, but you had sparred with Sam Winchester. It wasn’t long before you had the upper hand, and with one final right hook, you left the bloodied woman on the floor, gasping for air.

“She's all yours Winchesters.”

Limping out of your office, you didn’t even flinch when two gunshots rang out from behind you.

Sweat ran down your face as you threw another jab-jab-cross combo at the punching bag you had set up. You’d cleaned yourself up and stitched up the wound on your leg while Sam and Dean had taken care of the body, and you knew you should be asleep. But too much adrenaline still pumped through your blood, and so you found yourself back in your gym, punching and kicking for all you were worth.

“Try widening your feet another half inch.” The sudden voice made you jump, and you turned to see Sam, still dressed in his personal trainer get up, leaning against the doorframe.

“Giving me sparring tips Winchester? Well ain’t this like old times.”

“I don’t seem to remember you having beating the crap out of a witch and then me killing it back in the Stanford days Y/N. You’ve still got one hell of a right hook though.”

“Thanks. So, what happens now?”

“Well” Sam said, coming up to support the punching bag and gesturing with his head for you to continue “You’re not the only one still too hopped up to sleep, so a good old fashioned spar is first. Then, me and Dean go back home and you carry on.”

“I don’t know if I can do that Sam.” Almost like someone’s flipped a switch, all the adrenaline goes away, and turning away from Sam you have to bite your lip hard to stop from bursting into tears at the events of the last couple of weeks.

“Hey.” Sam comes round the punching bag and gently turns you round to face him “You're coming to Lebanon in a couple of weeks right?” You nod in reply, and Sam's hands come up to wipe away the tears that have managed to break free “Call me, OK? We'll get dinner.”

Dropping his hands to his sides, Sam goes to turn away, but he doesn't get far. Grabbing on to the front of Sam's vest top, you pull him down to your lips. The kiss is slow, soft, hesitant, and breaking apart, the two of you gasp heavily for air.

“You know, this isn’t the kind of spar I had in mind Y/N/N.” Sam teases.

“You really wanna stop?”

“God no.” And then this time Sam's the one reaching for you, hands curling around your waist, his fingers almost touching, and you shiver to think of how big all of him is going to be.

Sliding your hands up to his hair, you curl your fingers in and give a light tug, and the moan Sam lets out sends a jolt of pleasure right through you. You barely want to break apart from him, his kisses making you light headed and giddy, but you know you’re going to have to when you feel Sam's fingers slide under the bottom of the sports bra you’re wearing. Taking the slightest step back, you lift your arms to help Sam in getting rid of your clothing. As he lifts it over your head, his eyes go wide at the sight of your breasts, and before you can get your hands on his vest top and even out the clothing stakes, Sam's got his hands on your waist again, but this time his lips drop down your neck and collarbone until he gets to the valley in between your boobs. As his tongue finally curls over and around one nipple, he slides a hand up to play with the other one. Switching sides, you can’t help the little mewls of pleasure coming out of your mouth, and you re-curl your fingers into his hair, enjoying the vibrations of his moans on your now sensitive nipple.

“Sam....” Your voice barely sounds like your own, so breathy and filled with lust. With one final scrape of his teeth on you, Sam pulls up and back, hands leaving your waist so he can reach back and pull off that top. You can’t help the little intake of breath at the sight of him, lean and muscular, and your fingers run themselves down his pecs, the defined abs, that bloody v line that makes your mouth water, until they’re hovering over the lycra waistband of his shorts. Glancing up, Sam's eyes are almost black in colour, lust clouding them over, and with a bravery you didn’t know you had, you curl your fingers into the waistband and pull and push them and his boxers down until they’re pooled round his ankles.

“Holy shit.” Fuck knows where Sam's been packing that, because usually lycra shows everything. Sam chuckles in response, and stepping out of his clothes and kicking them behind him, he reaches for you once more. His hands slip beneath the waistband of the shorts you’re wearing, and a deep growl leaves his lips when he realises you’re naked underneath them.

“No panties? Fuck, baby, you’re gonna kill me.”

Before you know it, you’re on your back on the mat, Sam’s head making it’s way lower and lower. Your back arches at the first flick of his tongue on your swollen clit, and you have to take several deep breathes to stop yourself coming already. Sam lifts his head and rests it on your lower belly, waits for you to look at him.

“You think I’m only gonna make you come once? Don’t hold back baby. I'm not going to.” And then he's dropping back down, tongue hitting everywhere it should, and you scream your way through your orgasm. Just as you’ve come down from it, you realise Sam's still laying between your legs, and you glance down only to lock eyes with him, his nose bumping your clit and tongue still teasing your entrance.

“Think I can get one more out of you before I fuck you?” Words have left you, and all you can do is nod before your head falls back. Gripping the back of Sam's head, you tug hard.

“I'll take that as a yes then” Sam laughs, planting tiny kisses on the insides of your thighs. “Gonna use my fingers too this time. Need to make sure I don’t hurt you.” Anyone else you’d have rolled your eyes at that comment, but with Sam you know it's not bragging, but the truth. Sure enough, this time round Sam's tongue stays firmly on your clit, small flicks and sucks bringing you slowly back to that edge. As his mouth works you over, he slowly teases you with one finger, then two, until finally you’re screaming once more, pussy fluttering wildly around three of Sam's long fingers, reaching spots you never thought anyone would be able to find.

Sucking his fingers into his mouth, Sam moans as you reach down and slowly pump his length. Pulling himself up to hover over you, one arm braced in a push up position, his other hand moves to cover yours and guide him just outside where you need him the most.

“Sam, please. Need you. I’m on the pill, we're good. Fuck me, please.....oh god!!” Your words are all the permission Sam needs, and slowly he pushes into you, so slowly that just as you’re used to the stretch and burn of him, the next inch comes along. By the time his hips are flush with yours, you’re sweating and writhing underneath him, desperate for a little bit more friction.

“How are we doing this baby?” Sam asks you in between kissing and sucking at the base of your neck. With one more grab at his hair, you pull so that you can whisper into his ear.

“Hard. Wanna feel you for days Winchester.” You follow up your declaration with a bite to the soft skin under his ear, and his answering growl makes his dick jump in your pussy.

Sam finally starts to move, slow at first, but with every pull and thrust you feel every fucking inch of him. By the time he speeds up, it’s all you can do but to hold on, legs wrapped round his waist and hands digging into the muscles in his back. You’re so close, and Sam instinctively knows what you need, one of his hands shifting slightly from where it had been resting on your hip so that one of those fingers can rub slow circles around your desperately swollen bud. It only takes a few circles and then you’re coming, Sam's name nothing more then a high pitched moan from your lips. You’re just about with it when three thrusts later and Sam comes as well, his cock twitching wildly within your still spasming walls, groaning your name into your neck.

The two of you lay there, breaths coming in ragged gasps, Sam's weight surprisingly comfortable. Eventually though, he eases himself off you and pulls out, a brief whimper leaving you at how desperately empty you suddenly are. He grabs his discarded vest top and gently wipes you down, a stark contrast to how roughly he’d just fucked you. Throwing the top to the side again, Sam falls back down, this time laying on his back to the side of you and pulling you towards him. Your legs tangle up with his, and you rest your head just above his heart.

“So. I don’t remember us doing that after sparring before.”

You can’t help but giggle at that.

“Nope. That’s definitely a new one for us.”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah Sam?”

“You know how I said when you came to town, we should go get dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I make that into a date?”

“Not at all. Mind if I move down to Lebanon a lot sooner then I'd planned to?”

“How soon we talking?”

“How’s this weekend sound?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Tag, you're it (Tag list is open btw):

@atc74 @acreativelydifferentlove @babypieandwhiskey @blacktithe7 @because-imma-lady-assface @crispychrissy @cassieraider @charliebradbury1104 @docharleythegeekqueen @feelmyroarrrr @fictionalabyss @girl-next-door-writes @growningupgeek @grace-for-sale @goldenolaf25 @honeybeedestiel @ilostmyshoe-79 @impala-dreamer @idreamofhazel @jayankles @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @juanitadiann @kittenofdoomage @katymacsupernatural @kathaswings @kdfrqqg @luci-in-trenchcoats @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @livelikeawinchester @laurenisnot @mrsbatesmotel53 @mspseudonymwho @mysticpizzacat @mandilion76 @notnaturalanahi @oneshoeshort @percywinchester27 @pinknerdpanda @reigningqueenofwords @rhapsody-in-flannel @supernatural-jackles @saxxxology @sis-tafics @sille1992 @sofreddie @sandlee44 @schizonephilim @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @there-must-be-a-lock @masksandtruths @trexrambling @viviandarkbloom06 @wheresthekillswitch @wildfirewinchester

[distant-rose-archive-blog]

I just wanted you to know that I just read all of the Little Pirates series this weekend and I am so, so, so in love with your Jones children. They feel like real honest to god kids with actual personalities rather than carbon copies of their parents. Beth is a riot and I'm trash for her and Killian's relationship. I have a few questions for you though. 1. How did you come up with the characters of Harrison, Wes, Beth and Neddy? They're amazing but they don't feel like Sues. (1/?)

I feel like that’s always a challenge in fanfiction writing with original characters. 2. Are you ever going to write a multi-chapter story for the kids or just continue just writing snippets of their lives as you are now? Because I would honest read the heck out of anything story you write for them. No pressure! 3. How many Little Pirates one-shots do you plan on writing and are you willing to write anything for Captain Swan that isn’t a part of the series? (2/3) Regardless of your answer, I will always read whatever you write. 4. You reblog a lot of Captain Swan stuff, which I appreciate, but are you going to watch Season Seven and do you think Season Seven will affect the Little Pirates series especially if it’s revealed that Killian and Emma have a child in the canon? You’ve kinda been quiet on that. (3/3)

As I have not updated all weekend since I was in my cousin’s wedding, I wasn’t expecting anything in my inbox this morning. I was pleasantly surprised and a bit overwhelmed when I checked into my tumblr this morning while I was having my coffee. I’m a wee bit hungover from yesterday.

I’m glad you like Little Pirates. I personally love writing the Killian-Beth dynamic as well since a lot of it is based upon my relationship with my own father. So, I love writing them. I love writing them all really, hence why I do it in the first place. 

I honestly feel like I’m being interviewed with the amount of questions you have, which I’m both flattered and overwhelmed by. I will try to answer them as best as I can. I apologize for the really long-winded answers, which is why I’m putting a “read more” here because it’s just a bloody essay.

1. It’s kinda hard to describe my character development/creation, but I’m generally struck with ideas of personalities while I’m doing something and I work from there. Beth came to me first. I just thought of someone who was super cheeky, super blunt and incredibly impulsive. Wes came to me originally as a rebel without a cause kind of guy who loves music more than people (this is still true) and Harrison was always just this haggard older sibling who feels the need to protect and keep the younger ones out of trouble, which ages him like a few good years. Neddy was late to the game. He was originally this quiet imp, but over time, he’s become much more thoughtful and sweet, but very secretive because he never wants to upset anyone. He’s aware he’s babied and wishes they would just stop. 

My key to making them not Sue-ish, I guess, is the fact I don’t view them as anyone I would want to be. I make them fuck up. A lot. They’re people I understand, but I don’t want to be them or really hang out with them. I gave a lot of them my own faults. 

Both Beth and Wes are inherently selfish and impulsive people who have absolutely no respect for authority or anyone really. They’ve not really sensitive to the feelings of others at all. They think it’s more important to spit the truth than consider how someone would feel about it. So you have three serious character faults right there. On top of that, neither of them are really in touch or want to talk about their own feelings. They would rather hide behind sarcasm and wit, then have a serious conversation about emotions.

Beth and Wes are also manipulative, though Beth more so than Wes. She’s so in habit of manipulating people that sometimes she doesn’t recognize when she does it, which will be explored later on. She’s manipulative, a skilled liar (something she shares with Ned) and on top of that, she’s very spiteful. She does a lot of things out of spite and anger without thinking about the long term. She has an entire serious relationship when she’s older out of spite due to the man she loves telling her that he doesn’t want to be with her. It’s a very shitty thing on her part. She took someone’s emotions for a ride because she wanted to make someone jealous. It’s not cool, but people do that. She’s human and flawed.

Wes is entire another bag of issues. I’m not sure if it’s been translating well, but he’s like a borderline sociopath at times. Wes is very charismatic, people are drawn to him, but he’s not really drawn to people. He could survive without people rather easily. He would miss certain people, but he could do without. He likes company, but doesn’t crave or need it. He’s very much lone wolf out of the four. He also has zero respect for authority and boundaries and has no issues breaking them for himself or the people he cares about which is a very short li- it’s basically just his siblings, Gideon and Bobbi. I haven’t talked about magic much, but Wes is obsessed with magic and sees his magic as an extension of himself. He would struggle picking between magic and people, which I personally am horrified by. He’s a bit Rumple-like when it comes to magic since he’s something he’s naturally good at. A lot of this stems from his competitive nature and jealousy. If you haven’t noticed, which you might have not because I haven’t necessarily pointed it out but I have tried to write it as a background issue, but there’s a lot of tension between Harrison and Wes. They snip a lot, because Wes is extremely jealous of Harrison and the perceived favoritism towards Harrison. He sees Harrison as the “golden son” and as someone to compete with. Harrison has no talent whatsoever in magic while Wes does, it’s something where he is just better than his brother at. 

Harrison and Ned are more on the introverted side. They’ve both more reserved and quiet. Harrison is more quiet out of social anxiety. A lot of that stems from expectations put on him when he was very young, not necessarily by his parents but by the community. His looks, which are very similar to Killian’s, have made really made a lot of people expect him to be like his father. They see him as a min-Killian, he’s just not. Harrison knows he’s not capable of that, which is natural since he’s his own person. He doesn’t feel he has his own autonomy and it really stresses him out. He doesn’t want to be either of his parents, he just wants to be himself but that’s not what people want so he’s just internally a mess. He has a very negative self-image and zero confidence - it doesn’t help that Wes constantly derides him. He also has anxiety because he feels the need to protect his siblings who are more outgoing and wild than he is. Killian subconsciously has conditioned Harrison to constantly feel the need to protect them like Liam protected Killian. So, more often than not, Harrison is put into very uncomfortable situations in order to help out the other three who constantly blunder into horrible situations because they have zero impulse control and are more extroverted than he is. He gets like gray hairs in his twenties from the stress of them. On top of that, Harrison is a bit on the righteous side - very David-like. His moral code is a bit black and white, which kinda leads him disapproving of a lot of the shenanigans that go on around him. There’s a reason, he’s on medication for anxiety. Some of it is family, but a lot of it is self-imposed.

Ned…this child. He’s new and I’m still working on him, but he’s very much babied and constantly shielded by everyone and he’s aware of it. He’s annoyed by it, which has led to him being very sneaky, secretive, cunning and a very gifted liar. He loves his family, but often views them as obstacles to his own fun and experiences so he lies A LOT to keep them for catching on, disapproving or freaking out about what he’s doing. Like he’s really young in the series so far, but when he’s older, like every other thing he says to his family is a lie. Like he’s very into baseball, which causes some strain with Killian because of his disability and Ned just hides the fact he’s playing baseball up until like high school. Just would say he’s over a friends’ house whenever he had a game. He fixes his report cards so his parents don’t stop him from having fun. That sort of nonsense. It just leads to so many issues. On top of that, he really resents the age differences between him and his siblings and basically tries to grow up too fast at times. Like he gets a tattoo at sixteen to match the one that the older three have. He makes so many horrible mistakes in high school in regards to partying, girls, drinking and sports that he’s kinda “been there, done that” by college and really is just the responsible one out of his baseball team and is more focused on baseball, his grades and writing than having fun. Which of course leads to him being kinda estranged from his team who hasn’t gotten to his level yet. He’s like a geek-jock in college with like only three friends.

Long story short: FLAWS. FLAWS ARE FUCKING IMPORTANT. Flaws make the characters, which is why sometimes hard to relate to characters like Superman. Sues are boring. Perfection is dull. 

2. Am I ever going to write multiple chapters on the Little Pirates? Maybe, but not likely. I have a ton of story arcs that I could write multi-chapters on but I don’t think I have a big enough audience to really write those. I mean older!Jones children have really colorful lives - Beth ends up a fucking realm jumping pirate in her own right, Harrison has an adventure in Agrabah and overcomes a lot of his anxiety before he replaces Emma as the Sheriff of Storybrooke, Wes has a lot of adventures involving magic with Gideon and Bobbi and Ned finds his own fairytale adventures while in college. I love these stories and I could write them, but they feature very little of the original cast which I don’t think a lot of people are interested in them. However, I am planning a Henry centric Labyrinth crossover fic which does have infant!Harrison (babe with the power) in it, which could count as a part of Little Pirates, but will mainly be stand-alone.

3. I think I’ve said this before, but I have no idea how many one-shots I’m going to write for Little Pirates. I have no end number in mind. Though I do know I have at least ten ideas in the works that are a mix of requests, original ideas and semi-requests. I just made a queue bar so people can see where their requests/prompts are in my lineup. As for non-Little Pirate related material, I’ve thought about it. I’ve really wanted to write a Top AU-Captain Swan/Captain Charming fic where Killian is Maverick, Emma is Charlie, Liam is Goose and David is Iceman. I’ve been doing research for it and I’ve found that like 60% of Top Gun is like actually impossible so I’m trying to make a more realistic plot line and it’s just been nutty research-wise. I’ve also been thinking about doing a Henry centric summer league t-ball story that’s about Henry figuring his life out post-college with a romance plot line with Ava Zimmer, but that could be considered a part of LP because it would feature Wes and Harrison. I’m like incapable of writing anything but domestic Captain Swan it seems. I suck and like my own characters too much. So, needless to say I’m trying, but failing fucking miserably. Too many ideas, not enough time to research and write them. 

4. I’m little confused on this last question. I haven’t said anything about OUAT season seven…at all. I haven’t been quiet at all. The reality is that I haven’t said a word. There’s a reason for that. While I plan on watching season seven because I adore Colin O’Donoghue and Hook…I’m just not excited. I love Captain Swan and I really don’t trust A+E to do this season right without Jennifer Morrison. I’m just not really invested in it, but I am curious what they’re going to do. After reading all the D23 stuff over this weekend despite being at my cousin’s wedding, I’m like 60% convinced there is a canon Captain Swan spawn, which could be interesting but I’m not like over the moon about it. I could live with or without it. I’m kinda “meh.”

I’m not sure how or why OUAT season seven would effect Little Pirates in any shape or form. I think I’ve made it clear that it’s a canon divergence post-season six. Everything that happened between seasons one to six is canon, but season seven has absolutely no baring on my universe at all. It would be insane to try and incorporate season seven stuff into my universe which is like 85% fully formed. I intend to view season seven as an alternate reality to mine. Like in comic terms, the season seven is Earth-1 and Little Pirates is like Earth-16. LOL.

Unless you’re asking if I’m going to stop writing Little Pirates because season seven would make it not-canon, which, the answer to that is no way in hell am I going to stop writing just because my universe isn’t canon. Captain Swan is one of the very few OTPs that I have that IS canon. Canon disagreements don’t bother me. I’m happy to live in my own little universe while the canon goes in an entirely different direction. So, I’m not bothered. I assume I will get less readers because of season seven, but whatever. Eh. 

Apologies for the novel length response, but you did ask a lot of questions. I hope I answered them to your satisfaction.

[dwtsreviewarchive]

DWTS S24 Week 2 Recap / Review

1. Nancy Kerrigan & Artem Chigventsev -Cha Cha (7+7+7+7=28) Nancy has a really compelling narrative. For her to be so talented, accomplished & beautiful, the fact that she harbors so much insecurity & can’t take a compliment is endearing & heartbreaking all together. Artem is a really good partner for her, I think he’ll keep chipping at that wall she has up all season. This was one of my favorite cha cha’s of the night, I had to re-watch cause I missed it the first time, it had so much recognizable content. She really has amazing footwork, she just needs to step with more confidence & keep her control but she’s so much better than she gives herself credit for.

How cute is it to see Artem so happy about having a good partner. lol

2. Erika Jayne & Gleb Savchenko - Foxtrot (7+7+7+7=28) The dance was good, Ericka has great legs & potential for amazing lines, she’s very aware of her body & very confident which is awesome. The foxtrot could’ve been more graceful was a bit rushed & hectic at times. 

Now.. Here’s my problem with Gleb & his partners as of late, they seem to not grasp the concept of sexiness AND substance, equally mixed. I’m all for liberation, especially for women, I think it’s beautiful when women such as Ericka embrace their sexiness & sensuality so fearlessly. It’s one of the reasons Peta is one of my favorite pro dancers. But based on her package, I fear she doesn’t understand that sexiness being your personality or dance concepts entire driving force will eventually become one note. Being one note on a show like this doesn’t get very far, you have to be a symphony of different notes. In other words, versatile. I hate that she thinks that the criticism of her is that she shouldn’t own that part of her womanhood so much cause it’s not. Women are complex creatures, sexuality is one singe part of who we are, there are only so many weeks, I would like to see at least one or two different aspects to who she is as woman and dancer. What I mean by substance is something more tangible than just, “Oh a cop pulled me over, let me seduce him to get out of a ticket. “ That’s such a fly by night, unmemorable concept. You don’t have to fall in love with the cop & sing Ave Maria but connect to some emotions that make me connect to the human inside of you. Sexiness is not something you do or should seem try hard. It should naturally exude without you telling us. There is real beauty in sex & sensuality that’s deeper than this dance ever tried go. 

This is not meant to be specifically a take-down of Erica she seems like quite a lovely person inside & out, their package & dance just happened to be the catalyst for this rant. If anything a lot my issues on this subject lie with Gleb, I don’t find he has a lot of the ability or willingness to push his partner past the sexy surface. As the pro, I would like to see him try to get his partner out of their comfort zone more often. Of course the celeb is going to want to do what makes them comfortable but maybe guide them down a more diverse journey.

3. Charro & Keo Motsepe - Paso Doble (6+6+7+6=25)  She might be extra as all get out. but I'm living for these two after tonight . If she reigns her energy in, she could really impress. She had great legs & seemingly great stamina, I’m really interested to see how much she can improve in the next few weeks.  I love how outgoing, confident & naturally exuberant Charro clearly is, it’s definitely not a put on, that’s really her everyday & I can’t even be mad at that. I would like to see her reign it in & show some restraint, because like Erika & Gleb, it can become one note quick.

4. Nick Viall & Peta Murgatroyd - Foxtrot (7+5+7+6=25)

In Nick’s defense that was some challenging choreography, but good on Peta for trying to push him but it was probably too much too soon. You could see it on his face that he wanted to do better than he was doing. He’s really got to relax, he’s more going through the steps than dancing. Hopefully Nick will get more comfortable in the coming weeks.

5.Heather Morris & Maksim Chmerkovskiy (injured) & Alan Bersten (stand in) - Jive (8+6+8+8=30)

Wow, what a difference a week makes. In just 2 weeks Heather has given us two vastly different sides to her. Last week she was appropriately subdued for the VW, this week she came out roaring in her jive mixed with pop / hip hop. Smartly choreographed to her advantage & make her shine, if not with the judges, with the fans, again smart. Her jive was pretty solid to me, obviously her hip hop was pretty much perfect, she channeled her inner Beyonce. I do agree with Bruno that she was clearly more comfortable & confident in the hip- hop. She needs to bring that spark & attack to the ballroom / latin dances as well. 

6. Bonner Bolton & Sharna Burgess - Viennese Waltz (8+6+8+7=29) Ughh, I hate to be this person but I just don’t connect with Bonner. Something about him feels inauthentic. I don’t see all this “chemistry” between him & Sharna. I sense he likes her, likes her, & she’s just really good at her job. Back to the dancing, it was an ok effort, beautifully choreographed, but his posture wasn’t great & footwork sometimes messy. Those 8′s are some bulllll. 

7. Simone Biles & Sasha Farber - Cha Cha (7+7+7+8=29) This girl is tight, really find myself watching for mistakes more than anything. This was in no way as poor as the 7′s suggest. I didn’t really see the timing issues Carrie Ann saw. My criticism of Simone would be, she’s very robotic when she dances, it’s definitely an Olympic gymnast trait (Shawn, Aly, Nastia), almost devoid of emotion, I really want to see her in a rumba or VW & see if she can show some range in her emotions. The 7′s were insane, considering Bonner got 8′s, showed how over scored he was. He should’ve got 7′s & Simone 8′s. 

8. Chris Kattan & Witney Carson - Jive (6+5+6+5=22) Some celebs it’s not about the dancing so much as the journey & overall experience. This season for me as viewer that’ Chris. We know he won’t be the best dancer of the season, he knows, the judges know, but that doesn’t he don’t want to see him be the best dancer he can be considering his physical impairment. 

9. Normani Kordei & Val Chmerkovskiy - Cha Cha (8+8+8+8=32)

Best performance of the night at this point. She really killed it, face, hair, legs, technique all while traveling across the world each week. This girl is special, I’ve never cared much about Fifth Harmony but this girl is going places all her own. Heather needs to do what Normani does, which is turn it on for every dance, let her confidence lead her even if she's truly unsure. Great job by Val with the choreography & teaching with such an unprecedented traveling schedule.  

10. Rashad Jennings & Emma Slater - Viennese Waltz (8+8+8+8=32) There is a quiet storm brewing with this couple, they are seriously ones to watch. I could see them snatching the trophy if they stay consistent. Between Simone, Normani & Rashad, I can’t think of a better finale. Rashad has the substance I want Erika to find & the sincerity I don’t get from Bonner. He can dance, he’s good looking to boot & he’s seems incredibly genuine. The judges were right when they say that he leads Emma & takes control of her the way a man should in the dance. For Week 2 that’s really remarkable for a male celeb. There’s a quiet confidence in him that’s really attractive, he dances with confidence but he doesn’t overdo it, he reallu delicate with Emma. These two are really special to watch.

11. Mr. T & Kym Herjavec - Paso Doble (6+5+6+5=22) I hate “judging” dancers like Mr. T, cause personally I love his story but dance wise it’s not the best. You can definitely see that he is working hard on improving the steps & timing, which was so much better than Week 1. I agree with Carrie Ann that the punching can stop now, explore so more range of motion but I think Kym is doing a good job with not overloading him with steps he can’t possibly keep up with.

12. David Ross & Lindsay Arnold - Cha Cha (7+6+7+7=27) David is pretty fly for a white guy. I love his spunk & approach to this show & dances. This week was not an improvement to his Quickstep, which was pretty good. But I like that Chris is willing to get loose & have some fun, hopefully we get to see a more polished side of him next week. 

ELMINATION

In Jeopardy

Chris & Witney -   Eliminated - Damn, I love Chris, his bravery & willingness to try something new & so physically vulnerable like this. God bless him.

Charro & Keo