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loveinhawkins · 2 years ago

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prompt from @teaspelledbackwards-blog: something featuring sick Steve being taken care of. prompt guidelines

It’s almost like a culture shock, adjusting to normality after everything is over: to not have to leap in front of others with arms outstretched, his whole body tightly coiled; to not have to always be ready to fight.

And most of all, to no longer need to worry about the big, life-threatening things. Even back then, Steve felt like he’d had a lucky escape compared to everything else they were dealing with—sure his bites still stung, but they were only in borderline need of medical attention.

“Borderline?” Eddie had wheezed through the high of morphine when Steve relayed this. “God help us for what your ‘real emergency’ looks like, Harrington.”

So when it’s just a run-of-the-mill day, and Steve’s head is pounding, but it’s not that bad, he powers through. It’s not like it’s pneumonia or anything; it’s not like he’s dying. It just mildly sucks. Well. Maybe more than mildly, but the point still stands.

He doesn’t really think anything of it, until suddenly Robin is pinning him with a shrewd look right in the middle of their shift, eyes briefly narrowing in a way that kinda reminds him of Mary Poppins—if she’d thrown away the nanny career in favour of putting ‘new in’ stickers on VHS titles.

“Let’s swap,” she says authoritatively. “You take your break now, I’ll take mine later, then I can do the closing shift instead.”

“Um, sure, if you—why?”

“You don’t know all the intricacies of my life, Steve! Maybe I need an empty store to practise for my secret opera star dreams. Maybe I’m having a clandestine affair by the light of the shitty computer. Don’t question me.”

She whirls him round and gently taps in between his shoulder blades, pushing him in the direction of the backroom.

He snorts. “All right, all right.”

It’s only when he’s actually stretching out on the threadbare couch that he realises she’d gotten him to distractedly agree while she joked around.

Then it’s like he blinks, and he sleeps right through his thirty minute break. It’s technically forty five minutes by the time he wakes and gets up. He pushes his knuckle briefly against the bridge of his nose as he heads back to the counter, but the ache still remains.

Robin doesn’t make one crack about Steve’s break running over. She doesn’t even take her own break until there’s no-one in the store, dealing with any of their especially annoying customers herself, including that old man who always insists on having a tangential rant about “kids these days.”

(She’d slid a note over to him halfway through said rant, a scribble in Pig Latin: ‘illkay emay.’ Ducking under the counter to stifle his laughter was a nice temporary distraction from his headache.)

When she does come back from her break, she tosses Steve his jacket and car keys.

Steve stops by the half-open door, stares her down. “Are you sure? I can—”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, go. The literal only plan I had was watching a rerun of Headline Chasers with my dad.”

“But.” He clears his throat, and Robin’s grinning, he knows she’s only teasing, and yet… “But you love Headline Chasers.”

She softens, then sticks out her tongue before replying, “I know.”

And it sounds like I love you more, dingus.

He plans to drive straight home, but then he sees Dustin biking into the parking lot, and he stops mid-reverse, winding down his window.

“Thought you were closing?” Dustin says.

“Yeah, I was. Robin swapped with me.”

Dustin hops off his bike, looks Steve up and down. “If I’m, like, five minutes, could you give me a ride home?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. He can count the number of times Dustin’s actually asked that on one hand, used to finding him already in the passenger seat, waiting expectantly.

He shrugs. “Sure. I’ll fit your bike in the trunk.”

True to his word, Dustin is in and out of Family Video in barely even three minutes. Steve smiles when he spots that he’s rented out The NeverEnding Story again.

“Dude, just buy it at this point.”

“But then I won’t get the excellent customer service on offer, Steve.”

“What, Robin insulting you?”

It’s an unusually quiet but not unpleasant car ride. Steve doesn’t risk putting the radio on, the pain travelling until it’s a persistent band of pressure across his forehead, and Dustin, strangely enough, doesn’t complain about the lack of music.

By the time he pulls up to Dustin’s house, it feels like his bones are aching, his skin prickling and sensitive. He tries to suppress a wince as he parks, briefly rubs at one eye.

“Hey, Dustin, do you mind if I don’t—” He falters, not sure how to politely put, Normally I love chatting with your mom, but if I delay getting home any longer, I might scream.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dustin says, already getting out of the car. “Stay there, just a sec!”

And instead of slamming the door as per usual, he gently closes it.

Steve only just resists leaning his head on the steering wheel.

Then Dustin is running out of the house, carrying… Tupperware?

“Mom was baking,” he says when Steve rolls down the window again.

“Oh,” Steve says, taking the box, glancing down to see some chocolate cake. “Thanks, man. I should, uh.” He makes to undo his seatbelt, but Dustin waves him off.

“You’ve thanked her, like, a bunch of times, if you do it anymore she’s gonna ask why I’m not a gentleman like you.”

Before Steve can respond, Dustin’s already at his front door, waving as he shuts it and calling out a casual, “Feel better, Steve!”

But how do you…?

Steve knows that Eddie’s in his house by the way that the front mat has been left curled up at the corner from where he’s retrieved the spare key.

He opens the door, sighs in relief at the warmth hitting his skin; Eddie must’ve put the heating on.

“You’re being robbed!” is what he’s greeted with, and Steve chuckles, follows Eddie’s voice to the kitchen, and…

He stops in the doorway.

“You made me dinner,” he says, almost numbly.

Eddie looks over at him from where he’s boiling water on the stove, a jar of pasta sauce by his elbow.

“That’s a kind word for it, but okay.”

“You made me dinner,” Steve repeats, and he has to blink rapidly before he does something stupid like tear up. “Why are you even—did we have plans? Did I forget—”

Eddie smiles warmly at him. “Nah, just passing through,” he says, then laughs when Steve tilts his head, unconvinced. “All right, fine. I might have got a phone call. Actually, two: Buckley got there first, and then Henderson called, gave me shit about the line being engaged, he’s so—”

“You didn’t need to make me dinner,” Steve interrupts. He doesn’t exactly know why it’s this that he’s getting stuck on, but he can’t help it. “I could’ve made dinner.”

Eddie’s smile shifts, turns into something so obviously caring that Steve feels his eyes threaten to burn all over again.

“But I wanted to,” he says. He leans against the counter, eyes flickering over Steve’s face, a gentle kind of surveying. “Besides, you’re not feeling great, right?”

“It’s nothing,” Steve says automatically. “Seriously, I don’t even have a fever. It’s not like I need to go to the doctors or…”

He trails off as Eddie gets closer, kisses him softly on the mouth, then the temple; and there must be a salve on his lips or something, because the awful sensitivity on Steve’s skin feels, just for a moment, like it’s been soothed away.

“Doesn’t need to be the worst thing ever for it to matter, Steve,” Eddie says simply.

Steve affects a huff—Eddie’s always coming out with lines just like that, says it’s the DM’s curse, darling—but he melts against Eddie anyway.

“You use the bow tie shapes?”

Eddie grins, nods triumphantly down at the pot. “Only the very best for you.”

Steve smiles into Eddie’s shoulder. “Dork.”

Tonight he’ll lie on the couch after dinner, Eddie reading with the lamp on low so that it doesn’t hurt his head; will drift off thinking of him, of Robin, of Dustin—knowing that the world doesn’t need to be ending for them to care.

#loved doing the slice of life vibes in this ❤️#loveinhawkins takes prompts #steve harrington fic #steve and robin #steve and dustin #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #eddie and robin #eddie and dustin #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #eddie munson

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nyoomfruits · 1 year ago

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54 for omegaverse please and thank

54. "P-please scent me, I don't want to smell like them, I want to smell like you..."

It starts innocent enough, Lando popping his head around the door of Oscar’s driver’s room somewhere between press responsibilities on Thursday. “Hey,” he says, glancing at where Oscar is sprawled over the couch, scrolling through his phone. “Can you scent me?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. They’ve been teammates for a while now, long enough for Oscar to know Lando’s nose is sensitive. He particular, about who and what he does and doesn’t smell like. Borrows hoodies from friends and family to be wrapped up in their scent, gets antsy when things smell wrong.

So this. This means Oscar… His inner Alpha, the one that’s been screaming mine mine mine ever since he first laid eyes on Lando, rumbles happily. Oscar firmly tells it to shut the fuck up and turns to Lando, reassuring smile on his face, determined not to make this weird. Lando wouldn’t ask him if he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable, so.

“Sure,” he says. “Get over here.”

Lando makes a happy noise and instead of waiting for Oscar to get up so they can do the whole cheek rubbing, neck nosing thing that’s normal between friends, flops down square on top of Oscar and snuggles in.

“Oof,” Oscar wheezes out, when Lando’s elbow ends up somewhere in his abdomen. “Okay.”

“Hm,” Lando says, shoves his nose into Oscar’s neck. Oscar stares up at the ceiling, tries to think of Normal and Sane things that aren’t his teammate currently lounging on his chest, fitting into his arms like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

After about five minutes of Oscar trying to name every single part of the MCL60 in his head and not thinking about shoving his nose into Lando’s soft curls and taking in his chocolate cookie sweet scent, Lando lets out a happy noise and gets up again. “Thanks, mate,” he says, and then disappears before Oscar can utter as much as a ‘No problem’.

It happens again, after that. And again. Lando has clearly added Oscar to his roster of ‘People Who Smell Good’, and makes grateful use of the fact that Oscar is just around, like. All the time. It reaches a point where Lando just follows Oscar into his driver’s room between obligations, sprawls all over his couch, steals his hoodies.

Like he belongs.

And that’s. That’s when it starts becoming a problem. Because the more and more Lando inserts himself into Oscar’s space, the more Oscar’s stupid instincts scream at him that he’s his, that he belongs to Oscar, that he is his Omega. Which is stupid, because Lando doesn’t belong to anyone. Least of all Oscar.

The moment Oscar realizes he’s gotten in way over his head is when him and Lando make it onto another podium, and when Max gives Lando a congratulatory handshake, Oscar actually growls at him.

Nobody catches it, over the sound of the celebrations and the general F1 post-race ruckus, but Oscar realizes that if he doesn’t put a stop to this now it’s only going to get worse and that isn’t fair to anyone. Not to Lando, not to any Alpha that comes close to Lando, not to himself.

He doesn’t tell Lando, doesn’t know how to explain without putting his heart on the table and making it gratingly awkward for everyone involved, and so he keeps quiet, pulls away bit by bit, slowly disappearing back into the shadows he existed in before Lando put him in the spotlight.

Lando, for the most part, lets him. Frowns, when Oscar closes the door to his driver’s room before Lando can follow, when Oscar moves away from his touch. But he doesn’t say anything, seems to accept the distance Oscar is trying to create. Doesn’t push.

It hurts, only a little bit. Oscar had fooled himself, at one point, that maybe it meant something, to Lando. But the way he lets Oscar pull away so easily…

Oscar puts his head down, focuses on the car. He’s here to race after all.

The whole weekend has been shit. Qualifying was garbage for the both of them, and then there’s a sprint on Saturday that goes completely tits up, too. Lando ends up in the gravel somewhere halfway, and Oscar watches the screens, watches him climb out of the car, sulk back to the garage.

Lando gets subjected to a million interviews that all ask him the same questions, and Oscar can see the exhaustion on his face, from his end of the media pen. Something in him wants to reach out, pull Lando close, shade him from the rest of the world. He pushes that something down, and answers the fifteenth question about how they’re expecting the race tomorrow to go now the car seems so spectacularly shit this weekend.

He doesn’t expect there to be a knock on his hotel room door later that night, revealing Lando in all his jittery, exhausted glory. “Oscar,” he says, mouth tight and eyes downcast. He looks so small, and Oscar’s Alpha whines at the sight. “Oscar please. I know I’ve been asking way too much, making you all uncomfortable but please, please scent me. I don’t, I don’t want to smell like them, I want to smell like you.”

Oscar wants to give in immediately. Pull him close, press his nose into Lando’s scent gland. Take off his clothes, because skin to skin scenting is always better. Wants to cover him until Lando smells like nothing but Oscar, so everyone else can smell who he belongs to. But that’s not. He needs answers first. So he restrains himself, tries to keep his face neutral as he says. “Why me?”

Lando makes a frustrated little noise. “Don’t. Don’t be mean, Oscar. You know. You know why.”

“I really don’t,” Oscar says, genuinely confused.

“But,” Lando says, “You pulled away. Because you realized I was in love with you. That’s why… You needed space.”

Oscar blinks. Tries to process fifteen things all at once and comes up completely blank. “I needed space because I realized I was in love with you,” he says, a little dumbfounded.

Lando frowns. “Why would you need space, then?”

“I, because I didn’t think you wanted me?”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Lando says, frown deepening. “Of course I want you. Why would I scent you all the time if I didn’t want you?”

Oscar wants to bring up the nose thing, how he just thought that’s how Lando kept himself comfortable. Want to bring up how Lando never said anything. But it’s details, really. Details that don’t really matter, not when Lando is standing in front of him, saying he’s in love with Oscar.

So instead, he grabs the front of Lando’s hoodie, pulls him close, presses their lips together in a searing kiss. Lando yelps, but then melts into it immediately, making a happy little purring noise in the back of his throat.

(Later, with his arms wrapped around Lando’s naked, sleeping form, Oscar presses his nose into the place where Lando’s neck meets his shoulder. He smells like LandoOscarLandoOscar, and it’s the most beautiful thing Oscar’s ever smelled. He’s falls asleep only seconds later.)

#landoscar #mctwinks #twinklaren #drabble

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billietherock · 3 months ago

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There was no Weirdmageddon (pt6)

By Billietherock

(Gore Warning)

Chapter 2 (pt3)- Deal

Bill was so mad he could barely speak. Did Stanford Pines, some shut in who can barely speak to another person just shut Bill Cipher down? Why yes he did. Stanford shifts his weight from one foot to another, a little nervous for what would happen next.

“My thought was, well you could prove it first? Like how serious you are about this whole thing since… I’m putting my mind and body on the line and you have nothing to lose from this… deal…” he notices how red Bill was becoming.

“Serious?” Bill mutters,” You think I’m not serious?!”

Ford shakes his hands in front of him as Bill grows to immense size,” no no, I never said you weren’t serious. I just want you to prove that me giving you free reign of my body isn’t a massive mistake!”

Bill grabs Ford and glares at him,” I HAVE BEEN NOTHING BUT HELPFUL AND ENCOURAGING TO YOU. WHAT MORE PROOF DO YOU NEED?!”

Ford couldn’t speak, Bill was choking the life out of him. Bill’s anger turns to annoyance as he shrinks back down, giving Ford room to breathe. Ford takes a few wheezy breaths as he collapses onto his knees.

“Haha I get it. Except, I don’t.” He folds his arms,” what’s your plan here Fordsy. Are you going to make me cut off my arm or something?”

Ford shakes his head,” it should be easy for you. All I want you to do,” he wheezes,” is show up on my doorstep. Simple, then in return I’ll take you to do human activities.”

He takes a few more breaths before he returns to his feet,” I just want you to prove you’re just as serious as me, and you’re willing to listen. And uh maybe, if you're feeling adventurous… help out in the lab… like physically?”

Bill was still angry, he was angry that some human would call him out like this… put him in a tough spot.

“ I can just find another scientist, Stanford Pines. I don’t have to be your muse anymore.” But they both knew there wasn’t really anyone else, not with Ford so close to the portal’s completion.

There is a long pause, both the scientist and the demon lost in their own thoughts. The scientist hoping that lessons he learned from Stanley as a teen would pay off. The demon because he was insulted and humiliated in the span of five minutes, but more intrigued then he ever had been before.

“ I just have to show up at your doorstep, Sixer?”

Ford nods,” yes. Then I’ll take you for a night in the city, you can even pick where we get to eat. After that I would be more open to letting you use my body more often.” He smiles at the end, as if that would make Bill feel any better.

If looks could kill, Stanford knew he’d be dead where he stood. The look that Bill was giving him showed nothing but malice and contempt, Stanford figured this would happen at some point, Bill is a demon after all, but he still wasn’t prepared for when it actually did. When Bill went feral.

Bill looks at his own hand and then at Stanford, then back at his own hand and then at Stanford. He snaps his fingers.

Stanford wakes up, his neck felt sore like he has whiplash or something. He noticed fresh blood under his fingernails. He scrambles to look in a mirror or some other reflective surface, but all he found was that machine in the corner. It however worked for his purposes.

He sees that his neck is covered in scratch marks, and already bruising horribly. He notices a stinging in his knees and sees blood starting to leak through his jeans. His hands hurt from what he assumed to be how hard he was choking himself. He looked like he was just possessed and in all honesty he probably was, and he should have expected it.

He sighs, and left to go clean himself up, but just then he steps on… a pen. He kneels down painfully to pick up the pen, and then notices a piece of paper with a bloody hand print. He looks at his right hand and notices how bloody it seemed to be… it may have explained the scratches on his neck. He turns the paper over and gasps almost immediately, reeling from the pain.

Quickly drawn in the corner was Bill. Stanford smiles a little, this was something he had to document, a possession with other evidence besides mutilation, this was fantastic news. What was better was the few sentences next to the drawing of Bill.

It read,

“Dear Sixer

You have your deal

Don’t ever do that again

Next time you do you won’t be called Sixer

See you soon

Bill Cipher”

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starleska · 11 months ago

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welcome to...starleska's f/o round-up 2023! 🥳🥳🥳

below the cut is every single character i've had a crush on in 2023...and there are 30 in total!! 🙈💖 these are given in chronological order of fixation, and they are all new crushes (so re-entering a fixation for a character i've simped for previously doesn't count 😂) now be warned, this is a genuinely unhinged list. they are largely villains. one is a mushroom. one is a vehicle. one is a casino-themed duck-shaped robot. my autism is indiscriminate in the characters it fixates on, and they are all suitably embarrassing 😭💖 without further ado, here we go...

1. James the Red Engine | Thomas the Tank Engine

...shut up 😂💖 at the start of this year i truly lost my mind and fell headfirst into the Thomas the Tank Engine fandom (everyone there is so lovely and creative!!)...and of course, the vain train is my favourite 🙈💖 James is cute okay!! i don't need to justify myself!!! 2. 'Big' Jack Horner | Puss in Boots: The Last Wish

there's no way anyone missed this one - we are quite the tight-knit and dedicated group in the 'Big' Jack Horner fandom 😳💖 come on, look at him...a huge, powerful, obsessive, fancy-bastard collector with an affinity for magic??? he's stunning 🥴💖 i made so many lovely friends through gushing about this horrible man!!! we had so much fun making OCs to ship with him 🙈 one of the most intense fixations i've had all year, and one of the best villains we've seen in years...he is fantastic 🥰 3. Pizzahead | Pizza Tower

i don't know what's in the water of Pizza Tower but it's impossible to be normal about any character you like from that game 🙈💖 of course the evil sentient pizza slice took the top spot, he's so cartoony and ridiculous!!! the amount of power he exerts is also quite the draw 🤭💖 i'm not gonna lie there's a couple other characters from this game i may get into later...we'll see 😉 4. Fingers | Dead End: Paranormal Park

have you heard this guy's voice. can you blame me. deliciously evil fruity monstrosity with supernatural powers? sign me up to whatever sinister scheme Fingers has going on now or in the future 👉👈 he hits a lot of boxes...between the cabaret-style makeup, the posh, dismissive and manipulative personality and the inexplicable Eldritch body, he was always gonna be a crush 🤭 5. M.O.D.O.K. | Marvel

wheeze okay, this was originally a JOKE!!! @thelighttasteslikelasagna sent in this message joking that i look like i'd find M.O.D.O.K. hot, and i was really angry about it for five minutes...and then i discovered the stop-motion cartoon where he's exactly the kind of cringefail malewife villain i enjoy (in the Augustus St. Cloud vein), and the rest is history 🙈💖 definitely one of the silliest crushes i had this year, but he holds a special place in my heart :3c 6. Gargamel | The Smurfs

nah man i was on some serious mental illness at the start of this year 💀 i just can't help it when bad guys are like this, alright!!! Hank Azaria's performance as Gargamel is sooo silly and over-the-top, i couldn't help but love every second he was on screen 🙈💖 Gargamel's just a whole lot of fun!!! who doesn't love a magic-wielding freak hellbent on the destruction of a group of little creatures?? (i cannot and will not be taking any questions at this time ��) 7. Wally Darling | Welcome Home

my God, the Wally Darling fixation hit the entire Internet like a train 🤭💖 soft-voiced, ambiguously-moraled rizz puppet that he is, how could we not all fall head-over-heels? i have to thank this guy for throwing me headfirst back into fanfic writing, as the whole Welcome Home story really inspired me...not to mention all the lovely folks who wanted to imagine different ways of getting to hold Wally's hand 🥰 hooray for our pretty puppet boy!! 8. Killa Harkan | John Wick: Chapter 4

...yes, i know, it's funny that Killa's the first of two cartoonishly evil German-accented bad guys with sleight of hand tricks and gold teeth on the list this year 😂💖 sitting in the cinema, the second he opened his mouth my partner just turned and stared at me, because they knew. i refuse to apologise for appreciating a really awful bastard - especially one who dresses so sharply 😉 9. Ian Hawke | Alvin and the Chipmunks

yet another member of the 'it started off as a joke...' club 🤭💖 listen, Ian serves!!! we can't resist a smarmy music producer/manage type, can we? Ian's in the same camp as Gargamel for being a deeply evil man whose capacity for doing harm is directed at little creatures. all i'm saying is, he can sign me up for a dodgy deal any day 🥴 10. Myc Cellium | Inside Job

i can't tell if it's my monsterfucker tendencies or my consummate attraction to Brett Gelman but the crass sentient mushroom got me down bad 😭💖 he's just such a menace!! he's got that intoxicating combo of being horribly socially inappropriate and an actual outcast...fellas, Myc was fixation bait for me 😭 11. Klaus Kickenklober | Sing 2

i don't care if you think you're not a furry, someone can and will get you from the Sing franchise, and that is a threat 🙈💖 yesss laugh it up, Star's got another stern and vaguely European cartoon villain added to the list 😂 i just find Klaus so impossibly delightful!!! he'd be a terrible teacher to have in real life, but in fiction, i think i could fix him :3c 12. The Spot | Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

ohoho, i know you guys were living for The Spot fixation because i remember your reaction to the x Readers 😉 look at him and his incredible design!!! the transformation of The Spot from weak laughable villain to reality-bending monstrosity had me by the throat...and i can't wait to see more of him when the next Spider-Verse drops 👀 13. Mad Mod | Teen Titans

MAD. BLOODY. MOD!!!!! i think our favourite British bastard has to take the crown (literally and figuratively) as my strongest fixation out of the whole of 2023, i lost my mind over this guy. he just consumed my every waking thought!!! 🙈 the style, the voice, the unbelievable engineering skill...Mad Mod is one of those once-in-a-lifetime f/os that you know you'll be obsessed with for a very long time 😳💖 i look back so fondly on those wonderful few months of Mad Mod fandom resurgence, and how that still continues today...here's hoping even more people find out about him and develop their own crushes 😉 shout-out to the lovely @iriso-page who suggested him and Music Meister to me 🙈💖

14. Control Freak | Teen Titans

sdfgdf okay back on form with the fat dweebs, i know, i know!!!! my ravenous Mad Mod fixation wasn't enough to ignore Control Freak, one of the most delightfully stupid villains in Teen Titans...!!! he hits all my buttons (ha!) and i genuinely think his design and powers are kind of epic. would love to see him utilised in the future 😉 (i am never beating the Discord kitten allegations...) 15. Ken | Barbie

well, this particular blond himbo was quite the surprise!! 🤭💖 i'm not usually the one to go for such a stereotypical hottie, but Ryan Gosling plays Ken as so unhinged and...off for the whole movie, he activated the same neurons which come with the weirdest of my crushes 🙈💖 Ken's a misguided sweetheart and i'd love to help him feel a little bit wanted;;; 16. Buck Ruffler the Duck Shuffler | Toontown: Corporate Clash

fell into the wonderful world of Toontown: Corporate Clash and imprinted on this fucker like...well, like a baby duck 😂💖 is this not the most spectacular design for an original Cog you've ever seen?! i love that Buck is an absolutely scrambled robot with a gambling addiction, and i think he'd be lovely (and hilarious) company 🥰

17. Barnaby | Billie Bust Up

ohhhh yesssss Billie Bust Up caught my attention with this sinister goofball!!!! fancy, flamboyant and very into murder...Barnaby has all the traits for any Tumblr Sexyman, and i cannot wait for the full game to drop so we can see even more of him 👀

18. The Mad Hatter/Jervis Tetch | Batman

Jervis Tetch my beloved!! this has been the year of fancy blonds in top-hats, as well as deeply silly hypnotists, and Jervis kicked off this trend with a bang 🙈💖 i'm a Mad Hatter fan generally but B:TAS Jervis is a special kind of pretty stalker, and that voice is delicious 🥴 thanks to him for kicking off an Alice in Wonderland fixation and for finally getting me into drinking tea...the things we do for our crushes, eh? 🥰 19. Music Meister/Darius Chapel | Batman

and here is the first character played by Neil Patrick Harris who made it onto this year's list!!! 🙈💖 another camp, theatrical Batman villain to add to my collection...gorgeous voice, such an immense sense of style, and wonderfully good fun!! i think more people should get a little obsessed with the Music Meister 😉 20. Buggy the Clown | One Piece

none of you can judge me for this one - i remember all the TikTok edits!!! 😂💖 Buggy is pathetic and so much fun - i wasn't expecting to enjoy him as much as i did!! although my fixation for him may have been short-lived, my love for him certainly isn't 🥰 21. Pat Butcher | BBC Ghosts

ohhhh, every now and again a little sweetheart will get me right in the feelings, and Pat Butcher is added proudly to my f/o collection as the second Yorkshireman (next to Salad Fingers 😭). i just love what an upbeat, lovely man he is!! he's so soft and warm to everyone he meets and tries his best to do everything right by his friends...i'd love to cuddle with him 🥺 22. Josh Levy | The Eltingville Club

a classic return to form with Josh Levy, à la Comic Book Guy and Control Freak...really telling on myself by collecting these horrible greasy nerds who would 100% call me something derogatory if i tried to talk to them 💀 i appreciate every last one of The Eltingville Club but Josh, as a failed writer who remains just as toxic as he was when he was a teen, is my undisputed favourite 🙈💖 23. Swan | Phantom of the Paradise

oh God, reawakening my crush on Paul Williams by discovering Swan damn near killed me!!!! 😭💖 i was so obsessed with this man as a kid and the moment i saw him as Swan in POTP i felt intense attraction and gender envy in equal parts;;;; Swan's whole aesthetic and demeaning, inhuman approach to people is impossibly sensual, and i can't overstate enough how little evil dudes in tinted shades will always get me down bad 🙈💖 24. Kinger | The Amazing Digital Circus

my love for Kinger was such a pleasant surprise!! 🤭💖 sweet, anxious fella that he is, all i want to do is get him out of that digital hellscape and ensure he can wrap up in as many blankets as he likes!!! i love his always-on-the-edge-of-a-breakdown portrayal and am so eager to learn more about him and his backstory 👀 25. Peter Gregory | Silicon Valley

ahhh, kicking it the old-fashioned way by getting extremely invested in the most autistic character on the show (and that's saying something, given the high neurodivergent coding of everyone in Silicon Valley 🙈💖). Peter's style and methods of communication are traits i simply find attractive in real life, and although he sadly wasn't with us long, he absolutely stole the show ✨ 26. 'Action' Jack Barker | Silicon Valley

given my love of nerds it's no shocker that Silicon Valley hit me with two f/os, and 'Action' Jack Barker - the tech-field Colin Robinson - was a surefire entry 😳💖 what is it about these milquetoast men who are so whitebread yet are capable of such terrible things which gets me every time?! Jack is such a fun character and i'm glad we got as much of him as we did 🙈 27. Avery | Pokémon: Sword and Shield

i cannot believe none of you guys told me about Avery, the most amazingly dressed character i've ever seen in the whole of Pokémon 🙈💖 shhhh he is so very pretty and petty and his powers are incredibly cool. i just love everything about him and would delight in helping him develop a real sense of self-esteem, because he does not deserve the dismissal he receives from his family 😭💖 28. Matthew Patel | Scott Pilgrim

oh my God, heart in my MOUTH seeing Matthew Patel get the glow-up villain arc he so desperately deserved!!!!! 😭💖💖💖 Matthew is just the epitome of style and power in Scott Pilgrim Takes Off, and it was so fantastic getting to see him grow as a character and get self-actualised. plus his fight scenes were some of the coolest things i've ever seen. Matthew can i have your number please 🥺 29. The Toymaker | Doctor Who

!!!!!!!!!! i don't know if you guys can tell, but i really love the Toymaker...and even predicted that he'd completely consume my mind months before we got The Giggle 🙈💖 e v e r y t h i n g about him just gets me so bad. his reality-bending, his teasing attitude, his ridiculous accents, his gorgeous costumes, his emotional inconsistency, his tragic backstory...god, if i so much as look at him smiling i melt 🥴💖 characters played by Neil Patrick Harris really get me!! i'm so proud to be modding a server dedicated to the Toymaker now, and have met so many brilliant, wonderful friends through him and falling back into Doctor Who!!! i think we're all going to be brainrotting over him for quite some time 😉💖 30. Dr Mark Fry | Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget

Dr Fry, rushing in at the finish line!!! 🤭 the second my pals saw this guys they were all spamming me, begging me to watch Dawn of the Nugget!!! and ooooh i was noooot prepared for the specific brand of soft creepy genius he is 💖 even if they'd played Dr Fry purely as your run-of-the-mill mad scientist he would've gotten me bad, but they just had to make him equal parts freaky and brilliant with just a touch of arrogance, didn't they?? Melisha scored well 🤤 (also, three whole Yorkshiremen in my collection now!! is it the accent? 😭) aaaaand that's everyone!!! phew, is anyone else out of breath? 🥵 what a wonderful, silly year of fixations this has been 🤭💖 thank you all for being here, brainrotting happily alongside me for some of these characters, and for all the other characters you love!!! i hope 2024 is awesome to you, and that many more fictional characters are around the corner, ready to make you smile 😉

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cryinginmyroomsposts · 1 year ago

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Be My Valentine | Ch- 1 "No"

pairing: Vernon x reader

genre: fluff, angst, slight crack, friends to lovers, non-idol!au, college au

summary: College was hard enough and the thought of spending Valentine’s Day alone and sad was not your style. And the best solution was to go on a platonic date with your best friend Vernon. It goes so well that it becomes a tradition until it gets messy… nothing ever goes wrong by pretend-dating your best friend right?

status: ongoing

a/n: first time trying something like this cuz I saw too many edits on Vernon’s Fire verse! Please tell me your feedback!

pictures from Pinterest!

As if the sheer cold of the dying February winter was not enough to make life miserable, it also had to be dubbed the month of love. You weren’t a cynic but you knew enough to understand that Valentine’s Day and the gala around it is all nothing but a big capitalistic scheme. As the happy couples invest in the meaningless gifts and expressions of their extravagant love, the lonely saps drown their sorrows in the name of self-love. But your biggest complaint against this whole bonanza is the forced self-hate, even though it usually felt perfectly normal to be single and you even enjoyed it, this time of the year it always felt worse.

Maybe you were just another miserable single sap.

This year was going to be different. You were determined. But also you didn’t want to go through the painful process of pretending to be interested in a guy who, like all the other ones, would either turn out to be misogynist, homophobe or a transphobe- which constitutes 90% of the available population in your uni.

Hence why you find yourself walking with purpose toward the university library with the sole motive of hunting down you’re too smart for his own good best friend of a year and a half, Vernon.

You still remember meeting that shy little boy on the first day of your undergrad, looking lost in the crowd of the class and hoping you would let him sit with you. All it took was an awkward introduction for both of you to build your solid friendship. It was a perfect match- him, a hardworking genius with very minimal social skills and you, an almost genius with the concentration skills of a goldfish.

Vernon might be top of the class, a computer nerd with the face of a young Leo DiCaprio but even he was prone to the February blues and having seen how miserable he was during the previous year Valentines Day, especially as he watched his high school ex go gallivanting about with his then-roommate, you were determined to make this year a good memory for both you.

Also, he is the only guy in the university that you trust and is capable of handling you at the height of your drunkenness.

Looking at your watch you realise that only 10 minutes are left before he leaves his sanctuary at the library and goes to his Virtual Reality class. Of course, you knew his schedule, and he knew yours. He also knew that you hated being left on read and yet chose to do the exact same thing when you had texted the previous night about your genius plan.

Wheezing you finally reach the third floor of the big library that hosted all varieties of nerds and unfortunately, couples (they're everywhere this month, ugh). Walking across rows of shelves interspersed with group tables filled with students seeking refuge from the harsh winter cold or simply biding time, you finally reach the semi-private cabins.

Counting down five from the cabin to your right, you march toward the one you knew Vernon would be in. And surely enough, when you peek your head through the partition separating the hooded figure on the chair, with headphones and his laptop, from the rest of the library.

His head is bent as if he was peering into the laptop through the screen and as you move closer to his chair to reprimand him you realise he is sleeping. Gently moving inside the cabin, standing near the table, facing him, you can see that he had slept while coding. It doesn’t even surprise you anymore.

“Hey douchebag”, you say as you tap lightly on his shoulders. He jerks awake and blinks a couple of times before you see the understanding of reality dawn on his face. Removing his headphones, he moves his chair lightly behind and ruffles his fluffy hair.

“What do YOU want?” He sounds like his usual annoyed self. If you didn’t know he truly did like you as a friend you'd be offended.

But you don’t mind the grumpiness one bit as you settle down on the little space on the table smiling lazily as he gets more annoyed by the disturbance to his ecosystem of peace.

“I want a lot of things, for instance, I want a big mansion on top of a hill just to relax in the summer. I want to know why dolphins were made to be sea creatures if they can’t even breathe in water. I want to know why my skin breaks out in hives due to stress ONLY on my left side. I want to know why I get horny when-“ “Please shut the fuck up.”

He cuts you off with his palms reaching up to cover your mouth mid-sentence. You try mumbling against his palm for a second before which he grips tighter effectively stopping any attempt on your side.

He slowly lifts his eyebrows to warn you against trying to babble again and you nod in affirmative to the same. His eyes thin as he considers your sincerity of shutting up and seemingly convinced releases his grip on your face.

“Why do you talk so much all the time!” He growls as he rubs his eyes while settling back on his chair and lets out a yawn. He looks so much like the freshman kid you met and less like the overworked junior that he is.

You shrug nonchalantly (or so you hope).

“Someone needs to balance your entire lack of energy.” He sighs and slumps back on his chair. “Yeah yeah, I’m not arguing with you anymore… I’ve learned it’s best to just agree with you.” You give him a sarcastic smile as you say, “They don’t call you smart without a reason.”

He responds with an incoherent dismissive grunt and after a moment begins to lean forward as he tilts his chair towards you with both his palms placed on either side of your thigh.

Oh.

“No.” That’s all he says, his brown eyes twinkling, mouth pressed into a straight line looking right at your eye. You're sitting on the inclination of the table and he's on the chair looking up at you, yet he looks so intimidating. Not that you are going to let him bother you.

Two can play this game.

You lean forward and meet his face, a good few inches apart, bring out the good old puppy dog eyes and whisper, “What is the ‘no’ for Hansol”. You purposefully use his Korean name knowing he gets annoyed when you say it (Not sure what that is about till now).

You can see him grinding his teeth beneath that calmness and a smirk naturally plays up your face.

“Quit it, y/n. I saw the text and I’m not going to do it. Get lost.” The words fall out of his mouth in a hurry as he continues to grit his teeth together and not lose eye contact.

“Oh, so you did leave me on read by purpose.” You fake a heartache with your left palm pressed on your chest and your right palm on your forehead. He sees you dramatically pretending to have a heart attack and headache at the same time for a good minute before he decides to end this charade. Just as he moves to get up from the chair you hold him down with your hands on his which were at the side of your thighs.

“Pleaseee”, this time the puppy dog eyes come out naturally. He looks at you for a second before sighing.

“Ugh! You’re impossible but alright.”

“Wait really?!” You squeal a little too loud in excitement and earn a dozen “shh”s in response from the general crowd in the library. Looking around apologetically and back at Vernon, you hold his hands in yours (they’re somehow always warm even in the depths of winter).

“Is that a yes?” Cue more puppy eyes. Another sigh. “I don’t have a choice do I!” Grinning wide, you say “Not really.”

Vernon looks to the side as if to consider something important before turning to you, looking down at your still-connected hands, and then your face.

“I’ll do it but it’s gotta be strictly platonic-“ you’re violently shaking your head in positive because of course that doesn’t need to be said.

“-andddd….”, he’s got a mischievous glint in his eyes which stinks of trouble for you. This is the same glint he had when you ended up eating a pizza with ice cream AND a steak.

“And?” You prod, curiosity up to the brim of your head. “I want you to formally ask me… now.” The grin has turned into an almost full bright smile. “What does formally mean?”

“I’ll leave the details to you…” he shrugs and removes his hands from yours and pushes the chair all the way back to the wall and folds his hand.

“I can wait all day”, he sounds way too proud, sitting there in his hoodie and that smirk(I swear he looks like an actual young Leo).

“No, you can’t. You have a class in-“, you make an ordeal of checking your watch, ”-exactly 9 mins.” He shrugs, “This is worth missing it.”

This bitch.

"Are you really cashing in your bet right now?" You ask referring to the advantage he got after you lost your bet in a UNO game six months back.

He just nods casually and stretches on the chair before settling in a lazy and proud position, again.

You groan knowing he won't give up and get down from the table and get on one knee facing him.

“Chwe Hansol Ve-“ “Nope. Redo.”

This actual bitch.

Giving him your best glare you adjust on your knee, clearing your throat, you try again.

“Vernon…”, you look at him for approval and he nods. Ugh.

“… will you be m-“

“Louder, I can’t hear you.” His grin has transformed into one of his signature all-teeth-visible smiles and his entire face is lit up in amusement and joy.

Clearing your throat a little too loudly, you try… for the third time. Humiliation and anger heat up your entire face.

“Vernon, will you be my platonic Valentine?”

Your voice echoes in the near-silent library halls and the minute you’re done at least another 20 “shhs” are once again thrown your way.

People are assholes.

Vernon looks positively thrilled. He is full-on laughing, shoulders jerking, all 32 of his teeth in display and eyes disappearing behind the light of his smile.

If only he didn’t look so wholesome and adorable when he humiliates you.

He straightens up after a couple seconds and rubs his index finger against in chin, in fake thought.

“Hmmmm...”

Oh god, he is planning something... shit

"No."

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hannahssimblr · 10 months ago

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I watch the clock above the whiteboard as the minute hand inches closer and closer to twelve. Four seconds, three seconds, two seconds…

It’s five. My chair scrapes against the linoleum and I start running. Past Mr. Doherty’s desk, out the door, into the hallway, down the stairs, damn it why is this school so big? Another hallway, a foyer, the front entrance…

“Don’t forget to sign out!” The secretary calls after me and I huff and turn back around, yanking my student ID card out of my pocket and slamming it into the sign-in machine, and then I hurry out, down the steps, out the gate and onto the rush hour Clontarf streets.

The air is like daggers on my face and my school bag is weighed with a ton of books. My stupid trousers and my stupid blazer are slowing me down too, as is having to wait for the stupid green man at the stupid pedestrian crossing. I don’t bother in the end, I just swerve through traffic and give the woman in the SUV who blows her horn at me the middle finger.

The house is so far up the Howth Road that it might as well be in Killester, and I sprint the whole way with my bag jostling, as commuters alighting the buses onto the darkened winter streets glance at me with dull surprise as I thunder past them and shove through the gates of a little enclave community of Georgian houses concealed from the road.

I knock on the door of number two.

“Oh, we thought you’d forgotten about us,” Ivy’s piano teacher looks rightfully perturbed when she answers.

I have to cling onto the doorframe and catch my breath, “I’m so sorry, they made me stay behind at school.”

“It’s ten past five, her lesson ended forty minutes ago. I had her sitting in for the entire duration of the lesson after hers.”

“I know, I know,” I wheeze, “Is she okay?”

“Well she’s a little upset,” She goes through the hallway door to retrieve my teary eyed sister from the practice room. “We thought you forgot about her, actually I tried to phone you several times…”

“Ivy…” I hold my hand out to her and she regards me with a furious clenched jaw and a hot, teary face. She fists her hands into my blazer and shoves her face into it so that her teacher won’t see her crying and I just lamely pat her shoulder in apology. “Um, well, I’ll pay you the money anyway, I’ll give you double for the trouble…”

“No, just the usual is fine.” Her teacher says with pursed lips, “These things happen but just know I’m on a schedule, and I’m not a babysitter…”

“I know, again, I’m so sorry. Thank you for looking after her, I… it won’t happen again. I’ll be on time next week.”

“I’m certain you will.”

Ivy tries to make me carry her home on my back as reparations, but I beg her for mercy after two minutes because she is not three and tiny anymore, my bag weighs as much as her and I’m still so gruesomely hungover that I’m not sure how far I can even carry my own body without needing to crumple up in a heap on the ground. She’s merciful today and lets me away with it, possibly because she can tell I’m off, but she doesn’t let me forget what I put her through.

“I want you to make me pizza tonight,” she demands, “With pepperoni, and not chorizo like you got last time, it’s not the same. I want pepperoni. And do you remember that time you got that packet of it with spicy pepper around the outside? Well I don’t want that either.”

“Uh huh, how about you give me a break?”

“You left me at my piano lesson!”

“Yeah, I recall.”

She peers up at me, “Are you sick? You look horrible.”

“Thanks for that. Yeah, I am. I think I ate something funny.”

“Oh…” She looks troubled, “Well can you still make me pizza?”

The idea of going through the effort of the flour and the dough and the tomato sauce makes me feel slightly faint, “How about I buy you a pizza instead? Yeah? And I don’t mean a frozen one from the supermarket, I mean one from the Italian pizzeria down in the village.”

She gasps.

“But you have to eat it in the restaurant. We’re not bringing it home and getting caught out by leaving the box in the bin. And when mom and dad get home later on you can tell them that I made you something healthy for dinner instead.”

“You’re a liar,” She says with a sly smile that creeps up her face, “We’re both liars.”

“Yeah, dead right. It pays off.”

“I’m still upset about the piano lesson.”

I muss up her hair, “No you’re not, shut up.”

“Uh huh! I am. When we get to the restaurant I might need a milkshake too.”

“You’re pushing it, Ivy, you can’t push me…”

“I can,” she shrugs, and it’s a fact so undeniable that all I can do is laugh.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that milkshake when we get there.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2009 #Jude looks like an actual vampire here #usually he and Ivy have the same complexion lmao #he is not well #hope he's learned his lesson <3

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fisherrprince · 1 year ago

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get licked idiot (2142 words)

“Tataru,” Ch’ari blinks, one end of his mouth twitching. “You wouldn’t happen to have been… sewing upside-down, would you?”

“Why, no! Nothing of the sort. What makes you ask?”

“You’ve got, um...”

Tataru looks down in confusion and fusses with her clothes a moment, seeming satisfied as she straightens her overalls and completely misses the massive cowlick sticking straight up off her head. Ch’ari twitches.

To make matters worse, she sits down next to him — still armored in his dragoon gearset after a day of hunting fiends out near Coerthas — and snags a bottle of rum from behind the counter to pour herself a drink. “Though I admit I was a bit busy. You’ll have to wait and see what with,” she says, trying to have a little conversation with the midnight crew.

Nursing his own bottle (a cheap unopened mead that he never pours into a cup, not that he needs to), Ch’ari can’t figure out how to respond and just watches her take a sip. The cowlick bobs comically with the motion.

“Lemme just…” Ch’ari reaches over and flicks it. It pops back up.

“Hm? Oh, is there something in there?”

“Hold on.” Ch’ari licks his finger and combs it down. It stays for maybe a second, and then… pops back up. He bats it reflexively.

He’s aware his pupils are probably dilated as far as they’ll go, but this is his prey now. This is his quarry. This bouncy cowlick. It will submit to him, this cowlick.

He looms over Tataru’s head, and luckily she’s familiar enough with him to simply raise an eyebrow and not wonder if he’s going to eat her like a python. Ch’ari proceeds to insistently lick his fingers and smooth out her hair, as if she were a diminutive Miqo’te. He’s tempted just to — just to lick it down so his tongue can do the combing, but he’s not sure that Tataru would be amenable. He does care about her as a friend, and is aware Lalafell do not groom each other like his instincts want him to do. Even if it’s, getting fixed one strand at a time, infuriatingly, fighting him the whole way.

Eventually — eventually — Tataru’s hair looks… presentable. The cowlick, at least, is gone and not offending Ch’ari’s sensibilities, and the rest of it looks like it usually does outside her messy bun. Ch’ari growls at his work in satisfaction, and returns to his mead, starting to turn a bit pink despite his scowl.

“…Was it really that bad?”

“You looked like a coeurl toy,” Ch’ari mutters.

Tataru chirps a little delighted laugh. “Well! Then I’m glad I have you to protect me!”

••

For some reason, everyone had been fine upon arriving to Ishgard — freezing cold, yes, a bit miserable, but not sick. Alphinaud had, however, upon returning to the Rising Stones to recuperate after the defeat of Nidhogg, gotten a nasty cold and the worst sniffles known to man. He had been knocked out in bed for the past two days, and just barely able to shuffle about and pretend to be normal for about ten minutes in the morning for breakfast.

Key word “pretend”. Despite his airs, it was abundantly clear to anyone who looked at him from closer than five feet that he had dragged himself out of bed to be here, and as soon as he had a croissant in him he was going right back to bed. It was how Ch’ari knew the cold was bad — he wasn’t off making it worse somewhere and ignoring it.

Which is why Ch’ari almost excuses his dreadful upkeep. Unfortunately, it’s dreadful.

He slumps carefully into the seat next to the Warrior, a croissant in his hand and a wheeze escaping his nose. His hair is pulled back in a looser braid, which is messy, but forgivable; his whiskers, however, are entirely crooked. The soft fluff around the base of his ears looks glued on and sticking up in places, and his fringe is almost sideways. Unconscionable.

“Good morning, plague bringer,” Alisaie says by way of greeting. Alphinaud grunts in response.

Ch’ari does not greet him. Ch’ari places his hand on his head like he’s a pickle jar and starts licking his fluff.

Alphinaud jerks backwards, fast for a sick boy but dazed enough to be unable to break out of Ch’ari’s hold. The croissant drops to the table in a shower of crumbs. “A-Ari!” he splutters.

Whatever the fluff is made of, it’s thinner than Miqo’te hair, which means it’s thinner than his papillae are really good for combing through. No matter, he will just have to do a more thorough job. He continues to lick and Alphinaud continues to writhe, and as he does his ear keeps flicking Ch’ari in the eye every time he runs his tongue near it — Ch’ari brings his other hand up and slaps it down, trapping it against the Elezen’s head. He pins Alphinaud with a glare.

Alphinaud withers and stops trying to wriggle free, shrinking down in his seat. Pointedly ignoring Alisaie, who is watching the spectacle with her mouth open, Ch’ari snorts and continues his ministrations. One side done and straightened, he adjusts the boy’s head and works on the other.

Alisaie mouths something to her brother, who does not dignify it with a response, whatever it was. At least he’s given up on trying to get out of being cleaned, but Ch’ari could feel the heat coming off his face from a malm away. Wether it’s embarrassment or fever, he doesn’t care to know.

“You’re next if I catch you unkempt, red girl,” Ch’ari says, and he hears the click of a certain jaw being snapped shut. And an impulsive brush of hair being checked.

The fluff successfully smoothed out and clean, Ch’ari decides to spare Alphinaud any further public displays of affection and only gives his fringe a cursory swipe through.

“You may eat your croissant now.”

“…Thank… um. You,” Alphinaud mumbles, caught between a rock (mortification) and a hard place (critical unknown etiquette situation). He does not look at anyone else as he picks up his food and shuffles off back to bed.

••

Doman summers are humid. That is not the excuse Ch’ari has to make to get Alisaie to peel herself off the floor, but it is one of the ones he has ready.

It only takes two excuses — namely that everyone else is asleep and so should you be, and that he insists come over here the futon by the window is more comfortable than the stool yes even if it’s small you’ll get a horrible crick in your neck just slouching there. It probably helps that she’s allowed to keep watch over her brother, and Ch’ari isn’t forcing her to go to the room she’d been provided with to go to bed. He’d be a hypocrite, anyways.

She situates herself on the opposite end with a blanket, lost in thought. Ch’ari always thought the Leveilleur twins to be in their heads a bit often — as a negative trait, in the past, though it had morphed to being endearing to neutral in recent months. Always worried about such big pictures that the small ones scamper away outside their notice. Or always so preoccupied with what they can or can’t do to be useful, to change the things that aren’t fair about the world. So afraid of failure. Such a self-made burden on their fragile shoulders.

That trait drives them underneath all their sweet selflessness and stubborn idealism. And it gets worse and worse with fear, the kind of fear that narrows the world down to two or three people at a time when the world demands thousands be paid attention to.

Ch’ari has always been good at caring about two or three people at a time, and one or two things at a time. The title of hero is one he ultimately doesn’t deserve if one casts aside the ends and asks the means. He’s really more of a sword to be pointed, to intimidate. All the talk of politics, the big world important stuff his twins care about so so much, had washed over his ears a bit, ears that are not even now accustomed to a world bigger than a twenty yalm flat. He cares for the world and the whims of its protectors because there are people who live in it he cares about, as a sword loves its wielders, and they care for the world in that grand and wonderful way they do.

Ch’ari has his thoughts, Alisaie has hers. He thinks she’s probably running herself in circles about the fate of the star and the fates of her loved ones, and Ch’ari is here thinking only of how he might be able to get her to stop.

As it is, it’s ultimately not his decision. Guards patrol the Kienkan at night, and pass by windows with intermittent frequency, and it is as one shadow filters through the moonlight and shutters that Hydealyn deigns to grace him with a splitting migraine — but it’s a migraine he knows, it’s familiar. Not the overwhelming voice of the Call. He flinches backwards, claws to his head.

Alisaie startles and jumps to her hands and knees, gripping the blanket. Gods, not now, he has to-

“Echo. Echo—“ Ch’ari manages to choke out, before the memory takes him.

There is nothing.

It is a peaceable morning devoid of aught unusual, aside from its expansive, yawning emptiness — the soldier stands at the edge of the river, hand to his head in confusion as water sprites wink out and wither, far along the bank. No birds. No fish. No efts. Nothing. Even the babbling of the stream seems muted.

The nets are empty. He goes home.

Ch’ari comes out of the — short, but rather to the point — memory with a heavy shake of his head. He gets the message. At least the mother crystal is not one to dilly-dally when she has something to say, though he wants for priorities. There is so much going on, would Hydealyn have him abandon all else to fix this problem? Where to begin?

He comes back to awareness with Alisaie’s hands on his knees.

Bereft of a good reassurance, he gives her a little thumbs up. She nearly deflates with relief.

“Gods, Ch’ari. Do not do that again.”

“You’ll have to neg Hydealyn for that one.”

“Ari.”

“I’m fine. We’re fine,” he rasps. A dangerous wobble is sneaking into her eyes, born of stress and more stress and comatose family and the fear of being the only one left and in a room with her empty brothers. Ch’ari is struck as if with an axe at how much he would do to stop her.

Any other circumstance would be met with characteristic yelping and protesting and perhaps a death threat or a tussle, but Ch’ari beckons and helps Alisaie (so light! Like a chocobo chick) into the crook between him and the window and puts his head atop hers and curls his tail around her feet and she doesn’t protest. Instead she tucks her arms around herself and pulls her tail in against his legs and drops her head right on his chest and does not cry.

“We are fine,” she mutters.

“Very. And if we are not, we will be not fine together.” The axe still embedded deep in his chest, he does not much hesitate to start licking through her bangs to smooth them out.

She stiffens, her ears swiveling upwards as if to figure out what it is. Then, slowly, they drop back down, and her tense posture eases ever-so-slightly. Evidently, Alphinaud’s investigation into Miqo’te culture after his encounter with Ch’ari while sick was shared for scientific discussion. What fast learners. Even if Y’shtola had shared with him the disastrous results of Alphy asking her for tribal advice. Chuckling under his breath at the memory, his purr starts up without his bidding.

“…How are you vibrating?”

Ch’ari stops and heaves a great sigh, and then bullies her head back down from where it had tilted up at him quizzically. “Your brother asked the exact same thing. It’s not vibrating, it is purring. It means I’m happy.”

“Oh. …oh,” Alisaie says, quieting. She casts a long glance at the bed set up against the wall, its occupant not even snoring or shifting. “I wasn’t aware you could feel it.”

“Little opportunity to find out, th’ past while.”

She pauses for a long moment.

“Even now?”

“M’ happy you’re still here.” He turns his attention to her part, carefully grooming apart the mis-tied strands. “Not a fan of being alone.”

“I see.” Her tail shifts, the inflexible tip curling closer like either a stuffed toy to clutch or a protective sheet to block the world from hearing. “Neither am I.”

“Lucky.”

#cat time #claps HEY ok I finally feel like I’m getting some of my chops back #starting to Resolidify my writing #anyways. Ch’ari is a cat and grooms his friends even if they are wildly embarrassed about it #my writing #ffxiv #Ch’ari #alphinaud leveilleur #tataru taru #alisaie leveilleur #End of stormblood postpatch spoilers vaguely

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loverboy-havocboy · 1 month ago

Note

I gotta ask about mushroomgate for the WIP ask game 👀

--sithfox ❤️

i'm so glad you asked @sithfox !!

it's mentioned a few times throughout the series that he's allergic to mushrooms, and at one point gregor gets a call from comet who's frantic because sinker is in the hospital for an allergic reaction. this is a sinker-centric side fic that describes how all of that happened.

i came up with the whole plot at 7am on no sleep all the way back in january, but someone else asked that i let them write the fic. a few months went by before i was like alright, obviously that's not happening, which is fine because now i get to do it!! i'm gonna put more snippets than anyone probably wants to read 😂 but i've been a little sad about it but being done. there are a lot of italics in the doc, but i'm on mobile and i don't want to flip back and forth to add them sorry!

context besides his mushroom allergy is that he has pretty severe adhd, a bad memory, and his brain is all worms on this particular day.

Sinker allows the rushing throng of midtown Keldabe to move him along the sidewalk, not paying attention to much besides his general direction and where the crosswalks are. His mind is too busy to focus on the rest. He's fresh out of a meeting with his agent, and he's feeling more than a little frazzled.

It isn't always so bad, but today was off kilter from the minute he rolled out of bed -- twenty minutes late. He'd been so tired from wandering restlessly around the apartment all night that he slept through all five of his alarms, and Boost wasn't there to wake him, having already headed into the shop. It was only downhill from there.

Some of this morning’s several other horrors descended upon him in the form of his coffee spilling all over his bag - which meant he had to throw everything into another one and leave the house without a single sip of coffee - and his Uber driver getting lost on the way to his agent's office.

So. Anyway. He had a bad morning.

He's glad he listened to the little Boost in his brain - who knows how long he would've rushed around without thinking to stop for food otherwise. It's one of the first things that gets lost when his head is in a mess, which sucks, because being hungry definitely doesn’t help pull him out of it.

[...]

He never eats mushrooms, though. Boost doesn't like them.

Or..?

Sinker pauses, frowning to himself for a moment. That doesn't.. seem right? There's something about mushrooms, something tugging at the back of his mind, but his mind is being pulled in a hundred different directions and all he can come up with is that Boost doesn’t like mushrooms.

He gives it one more second. Two.

Nothing else comes to him.

Mushrooms it is, then.

“It’s really good. It’s ham, artichokes, mush-”

Oh, no.

He remembers now. There is a different reason he doesn't eat mushrooms. And important one.

There’s a clattering sound, then Boost’s voice becomes clearer. “Did you say mushrooms?”

“I.. I forgot,” he whispers, horrified. He feels frozen.

“Your epipen, Sinker,” Boost says, voice suddenly hard in his ear. It’s that tone of voice that snaps him into action, even before Boost adds, “Now.”

He digs through his bag frantically, his panic growing the longer he looks and doesn’t find it.

Where is it? Where is it? It's not here!

Because it’s on the kitchen counter, he realizes, his blood running cold. Right where he must have left it in his rush to scrape everything into this bag after the coffee spilled.

“Sinker?” Boost prompts urgently. “Talk to me.”

Boost is going to be so angry with him.

[boost pov]

“Someone has to call an ambulance. Ask them, Sink. I need you to ask them- anyone.”

It’s not possible. He knows it as soon as he hears Sinker’s next horrible breath. Someone else will hear it, too. He has to believe that. Someone will help Sinker until he gets there. They have to.

“I have to call.”

The sound Sinker makes now is almost worse than the wheezing - high, and frantic, and pleading. Boost’s stomach rolls. He almost drops the epipen in his fumbling attempt to shove it into his pocket as he bolts back through the shop, straight out the door.

Sinker tries to say something. It's unintelligible, but Boost knows what it means.

He doesn’t want to be left alone.

The last thing Boost wants is to do that to him, and he has to anyway.

“I’m coming, Sink, but I have to call. I love you. I’m coming, so just breathe, okay?”

#aliit au #aliit sinker #ask havoc #ask game #wip game #havocboy wip

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stranger-fanfiction-n-things · 9 months ago

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CHAPTER 3: HOLLY, JOLLY

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: This scene makes me cry. Even more when I listened to Heroes by Peter Gabriel.

Warnings: Sadness.

Word Count: 1307

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V

SINCLAIR RESIDENCE

Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I run down Maple. Nancy is close beside me and once my house comes into view, we slow down to a light jog and eventually to a stop. I bend over placing my hands on my knees gasping for air. My legs ache and my chest burns from overexertion. Nancy and I linger on my front lawn until we can catch our breaths to speak.

“What—” I cough into my arm. “What was that?” I wheeze.

“I don’t know.” Nancy pants. She stands up, holding her side.

“Do you think—” I draw a sharp breath blinking back tears. I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence.

Nancy doesn’t respond. Both of us think the same thing. Something happened to Barb. Something bad. Her car still at the same spot we left it last night. She wasn’t at school today and there was something or someone in Steve’s backyard.

“We need to tell our parents.” Nancy says, her face flush with pink. I nod my head in agreement. Our parents will know what to do. “Meet at my house in twenty, okay?” Her voice sounds thick with emotion.

“Y-yes,” I croak. A tear falls down my face.

Nancy’s chin trembles as she wraps her arms around me. I choke on a sob, holding her tight in my arms. We stand there for a moment, crying in each other’s arms and in that moment, what happened last night at Steve’s party doesn’t matter anymore. Any anger or resent I had in my heart disappears. What matters is Barb and that we need to find her.

I approach my door with heavy feet and unlock it. My body feels like it has been drained of everything in it. I feel like a hollow cavern, floating around. I close the door behind me and walk towards the kitchen. I don’t see anything around me. I don’t hear anything. I just feel exhausted.

“Mom!” I shout, my chest feels tight. “Mom!”

Mom comes rushing down the stairs with Erica trailing behind. Her face is etched with worry and fear. Erica lingers by the stairs watching me carefully. I hold my chest in my hands, feeling my tears trickle down my face.

“Diana! Honey, what’s wrong?”

“S-something happened to Barb.” I whimper. “Something bad happened to her!”

“What do you mean something happened to her? Didn’t she sleep over at Nancy’s?”

I look up at the ceiling. I forgot. How could something bad happen to Barb if she was with us the whole time. I open my mouth to speak but the words don’t come. I hiccup, choking on a sob. This is what I get for lying to her. I drop my bag on the floor and hold my head in my hands. I can’t stop crying at how my life has turned upside down in the span of 24-hours.

“Diana?” Mom says, her voice thick with worry. I smell her expensive perfume before I feel her arms wrap around me. “What happened last night?”

I lift my head from my hands, looking up at her. Nancy and I had a plan. I needed to stick to the plan. “We have to go to Mrs. Wheeler’s house.” I say, taking a step back. “Right, now.”

“Diana, what’s going on?”

I don’t answer, marching to the front door. I hear Mom’s footsteps behind me. “Diana!”

I turn around, eyes fresh with tears. Mom is standing in front of me, eyes darting back and forth, waiting for an answer. Erica is close behind watching me with a glint of fear in hers.

“We can’t find her, mom.” I whimper. “We can’t find Barb.”

WHEELER RESIDENCE

Thirty-five minutes later and me, Mom, Mrs. Wheeler, Nancy and Mr. and Mrs. Holland are sitting in the sitting room. Mrs. Wheeler set Erica in the living room with snacks and the television making sure she was far away from the commotion, but close enough to keep an eye one. Nancy and I are sitting beside each other. Neither of us look at the adults. I’m bouncing my leg up and down trying to calm my nerves. I feel like pacing back and forth. Going for a run. Just anything to keep from having a mental breakdown. I expect Mrs. Wheeler and Mom to be angry with us, but they aren’t. Only concerned. As they should be when Nancy and I walk into our respective households crying. Still I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Tell us what happened from the very beginning.” Mrs. Wheeler says, calmly.

I feel like I have been asked to take the stand. Thankfully, it’s Nancy who responds.

“Barb, Diana and I were invited to a party last night.” She says, looking at her hands. I quickly glance at Mom. Her expression is neutral.

“Who’s party?”

Nancy doesn’t answer right away.

“Is it Steve’s?” Mrs. Wheeler asks.

“Yes.” Nancy mumbles. “I told Barb and Diana to lie and say we were going to Will’s assembly on the field. Instead, Barb drove us to Steve’s house across town.” Nancy looks up at Mrs. Wheeler and swallows. “We were all hanging out at his house and then…” she looks at me to speak.

“I wanted to go home.” I finish.

“I didn’t.” Nancy adds.

“I asked Barb if she wanted to come with me, but she decided to stay with Nancy.”

“You walked home from across town.” Mom voiced. I can hear the shock in her tone. “In the middle of the night.”

I look at her, biting my lip. I want to tell her about Eddie driving me home, but what then I would be caught in another lie. “Well—”

The front door opens and slams shut. All of us turn to the door. Mike is halfway across the foyer when Mrs. Wheeler calls out his name rushing to him. Mike stops and turns to face us. Tears glisten on his cheeks and more run down his face. I stand up, feeling my stomach drop to my feet and share a worried glance at Nancy. Mike’s face puckers as he fights to hold everything in, but as soon as Mrs. Wheeler hugs him, he lets go.

“What happened, honey?” I hear Mrs. Wheeler say between Mike’s sobs.

“W-Will.” It’s all Mike is able to say before he breaks down.

I stumble back, losing my footing for a brief moment, my body rocked by the sheer force of the unexpected revelation. I stagger out of the sitting room to the front door, yanking it open.

“Diana!” I hear Mom shout, but I don’t turn around, my feet guiding me back home.

I can’t hear anything but the violent whooshing of wind hitting my face as I run down the street. Tears leak from my eyes, trickling into my hairline. My heart is pounding so hard I feel like it’ll burst out of my chest. I run. I keep running until I see my lawn. From the other side of the street, I see a small flash of light. His legs are pushing against the pedals of his bike.

“Lucas!” I shout. My throat burns. “Lucas!”

Lucas climbs off his bike dropping it in the middle of our lawn. He runs, slamming his body into mine. All the air rushes out my lungs but I don’t care. I wrap my arms around my brother holding him tight. I hear his sobs. I feel his shudders. Lucas clings to me like if he let’s go, I’ll disappear too. I don’t say anything. I just hold him letting my tears fall silently. I don’t know how long it takes for Mom to pull into the driveway or how Lucas and I got back inside the house. All I know is, we need each other more than anything.

CHAPTER 4: THE BODY

#stranger things rewrite #black fem reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #dianasinclair #eddie munson x black!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #sinclair!reader #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader

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lucarionite9364 · 4 months ago

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Khaotic Turn of Events

Havik x Reader Ch. 1.5

(Side plot where we actually interact with other characters)

CW: sad Kung Lao, that’s about it lmao

WC: 1855

A/N: actual second chapter next week tehe💖

Your mind is racing with too many thoughts to comprehend at once. You feel overwhelmed. Why? Because you leave for Outworld tomorrow morning.The stress of preparation has kept you up all night. You have to make sure that you’ll have everything you need. . . and may not need, but there could be a situation where you need all the backup Yo-yo string you have in your drawers.

Stopping your pacing, you take a deep breath in, then out. Calm down. You still have time to double, maybe triple, check your bag. But that will come later. For now, you need to find your fellow champions. Putting a pin in your stress-packing, you leave to find the boys.

You find Johnny and Kenshi first, as they’re both in Kenshi’s room. Kenshi looks exhausted and a little annoyed. However, the reason isn’t that hard to find. Johnny is non stop talking about his Hollywood movies. You pause at the door and wait for permission to enter.

Kenshi notices you first. When Johnny sees that he isn’t listening anymore, he turns to look for the distraction. He smiles and waves you in.

“Hey! I was just talking about one of my movies. Wanna hear about it?” He smiles so wide like a kid. He really loves his own movies, doesn't he? Before you could foolishly say yes, Kenshi interrupts you. “Sure, say yes,” He deadpans. “He’ll only talk your ear off for 3 hours!” He shoots daggers at the actor with his eyes.

“Oh come on Takahashi. It’s only been about 30 minutes. At BEST!” You sense Kenshi’s growing agitation before it shows on his face. “You have been running on and on about your dumb movies since we came back from dinner at 6. It’s 9:30 now!” You finally chime in, “Johnny, I think you might need to get a watch.” He frowns, “Oh hush.”

Kenshi just sighs and Johnny starts sulking, trying to get more attention. “Anyways, did you need something?” You look at him like he grew a second head. You were so caught up in their petty squabble that you forgot why you came here. “I didn’t really need anything. I was just stressing myself out packing. I just needed to get my mind off of it. That’s all.” You shrug as the other men nod.

“Well I would have been packed a long time ago if it weren’t for someone here.” Johnny feigns being offended. You stifle a laugh at their bickering. They either snicker or scoff at you finding amusement in the situation at hand. When Kenshi shoots up from his bed to point fingers into Johnny’s chest is when you decide to intervene.

You whip out Reaper from your short’s pocket. Giving it a few spins you throw the yo-yo in their direction. You watch in delight as Reaper wraps around the two, tying them together. Johnny loses his balance and falls forward with Kenshi landing on top of him.

Johnny’s pained cry can be heard as he’s always loud. He wheezes out, “Not cool dude! Kenshi, get off. You’re squishing my beautiful face into the ground.” Kenshi squirms to attempt getting out of Reaper’s hold. “I would be faster if you would just sit still for five seconds.”

They both would have hit the other by now if they had full range of their hands. Your eyes feel wet as tears start to well up in your eyes. “GAHAH,” You doubled over. “You two should see your faces right now.” You let out a string of cackles. Your stomach hurts from roaring at the situation. All you get in return is glares from your two friends. “Untie us Y/N.” “Get him off me!” They shout in unison.

You chuckle the whole way walking over to them. You really tied them tight. It took full effort to get the string untangled. Finally getting the last loop undone, they push themselves off eachother. You skillfully recall the yo-yo back to your hand. With the looks they give you, you almost think that they’re tired of your pranks.

With that, Kenshi ushers you both out of his room. He did have to pack after hearing a whole TED Talk about Johnny’s movies. You and Johnny continuously laugh as you walk to find Raiden and he walks to his room. Probably to pack at least three more hand mirrors.

As you head down the halls of the Wu Shi, you feel more relaxed. You quickly find Raiden’s room as you are all grouped close together. You knock gently on the door. You hear soft footsteps coming to the door as he slides it open. He was surprised to see you but welcomed you in.

“Hey Raiden,” You plop down on a chair in his room. “How’s packing going for you?” He sits on his bed not too far from you. “I was done packing earlier this morning. I’ll take it that everyone else isn’t done?” He chuckles slightly. “I might be avoiding mine and Kenshi had an unfair distraction.” You look at him but Raiden gives you a confused look. “Johnny was said unfair distraction. Let’s be thankful that we didn’t have to hear about his movies for three hours.” You grimace. Raiden only has a baffled expression on his face.

“Three hours? I knew Johnny could talk endlessly, but I’m surprised Kenshi put up with it that long.” He smiles as he removes his hat to put it on the nightstand. “I totally thought Kenshi was gonna hit him after I tied them together,” The mental image in your head makes you snort. “Raiden, are you ready for tomorrow?”

He looks up at that question, then looks away sheepishly. “I don’t know. I’m nervous that I won’t be the champion Lord Liu Kang wants me to be.” His hand rubs the back of his neck. “Rai, you’ll be fine. You were chosen for a reason.” You smile softly at him and he relaxes a little. Standing from your seat, you move over to the bed and put your hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Whatever you could possibly lack in strength, you make up for in heart.” He looks directly at you hearing those words. You seem to have struck a chord in his mind as he looks more assured than before. “You give me too much praise. Thank you, I will not let you guys down.” “Atta boy, that’s the spirit. Now I have to go. I still need to find Lao. Good night Raiden.” “Good night.” He waves you off as you leave and close his door.

Honestly, it feels like you haven’t seen Kung lao since breakfast this morning. We had the day off to relax before the tournament. Thank the Gods for that. You make your way to Kung Lao’s room with ease, however, you make a quick detour to the kitchen to grab some chips. You two play games and have snacks together often, so you know his favorite kind of treats.

You knock on the door, “Hey Lao, you in there? I have snacks.” You hope the snacks will get him to run to the door. Nothing. That’s weird. He never refuses snacks. You knock again, and after no response you think he must be asleep. You turn to leave, before you hear the door creek open. You turn around only to be met with a disheveled Lao.

Your face drops to worry and you open the door farther to see the mess his room is. “Lao? What’s wrong, what happened?” You put the bag of chips aside and move him back to sit on his bed. He wipes away the remnants of his tear streaked face. Sniffling, “You brought snacks?” You pause, that's what he wants after crying? Makes sense. You retrieve the chip bag and open it, leaning the bag toward him.

He takes a chip, and eats it. He stiffens as he feels your hand caress his back. “You can tell me what’s wrong. I want to help you.” He keeps his head low, not wanting to make eye contact. “I just– It’s that,” He calms himself with a deep breath. “I’m jealous of Raiden, and I hate that I feel this way because he’s my best friend.” You're shocked at his response. He is so carefree. You never thought anything got to him. “Can you tell me why you’re jealous?”

He looks at you like he might start crying again. “It’s because. . . he got the title of champion and I didn’t. I’m so happy and proud of him. But I just wish that it was me. I carry the name of the Great Kung Lao. How am I supposed to honor that name if I wasn’t even good enough to be champion?” Your heart breaks for your friend at his confession.

You rub circles into his back to give him some comfort. He pushes his face into his hands. “I’m such a horrible friend.” That takes you aback. He is nothing of the sort and you will let him know, right now. “Kung Lao, you are not a horrible friend. You’ve always been there when we needed you.”

He sniffles, “Really?” You smile, “Yes of course. And being jealous doesn’t make you a bad person. Everyone gets jealous, it’s a part of being human. What makes me so proud of you is that you can recognize those feelings, and not let them get the best of you. That takes being a great friend to do.”

You thought that he couldn’t hug you tighter in that moment than when you said, “Your ancestors would be proud of you Lao.” You probably felt a rib pop but this is fine. When he lets go he wipes the tears from his eyes.

He looks at you, “And what about you? You don’t feel jealous that Raiden is the champion and you didn’t get a chance to compete?” Your heart pounded. “You know I’ve waited almost my whole life for the tournament. Despite how badly I wanted to participate, I knew I wouldn’t be able to. I’m not from Earthrealm, but it is my home.”

“Does that not hurt?” “Of course it doesn’t, but I’ve made my peace with it. Regardless if I was born here or not, home is what we make it, not where we come from.”

“Thank you Y/N. You’re the best. Now. . . Are you gonna eat the rest of the chips?” You both burst out laughing at how he still thinks with his stomach. “No, you can have them. And if anyone asks I’ll blame Johnny. Now get some sleep, Champion of Friends, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Goodnight.” “Goodnight.”

He covers himself up with the blanket, but you still hear him crunching on his chips. He won’t be going to be soon. You chuckle to yourself at how many crumbs will be in his bed by morning.

You’re exhausted, but that doesn’t change how excited you are for the tournament tomorrow. You swear the moment you hit the bed you’ll pass out. And that you did. . .

#mortalkombat 1 #havik x reader #mk havik #mk1 havik #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat smut #mk smut #mk1 #kung Lao chapter

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mariaofdoranelle · 2 years ago

Text

Look at Us Now — Ch. 5

Fic Masterlist

Hi! *hides away*

Jokes. This chapter and the next are what made me start writing LAUN, so yes I’m pretty nervous to post 😅

Also thank you @renxzs for coming up with the name Doranelle White Hawks after I spent a whole day thinking of soccer team names HAHAH <33

Warnings: language, incarceration, mentions of drinking, mentions of injuries, Fenrys locked in a bathroom

Words: 5,2k (I’m coming to terms with my big chapters now)

Fenrys had been cackling for the last five minutes. Rowan was just staring at his friend with crossed arms, unamused.

“Dude. "His friend paused to catch his breath, wheezing. “You’re literally in horny jail."

Rowan flexed his jaw. Yeah, he supposed he were.

The worst part was, Rowan saw it coming. The entire time he hooked up with Aelin at his office, he knew it'd end with something like this.

It could've been worse, though. when Colonel Darrow told him, in a carefully controlled tone, that he knew everything and it'd be easier if Rowan assumed what he’d done, he knew he was fucked.

Rowan had to look into the eyes of the man who guided him through his first steps in the Air Force and tell him, in a more polished way, that he’s fucked his niece in every position imaginable the entire time she was his student. Inside base.

He had never felt more raw, unbridled shame.

He could still go to work, even though Rowan couldn’t, under any circumstance, leave his military base. Also, he wasn’t shackled, and he was in the guardhouse that looked like a cheap hotel, not the one that looked like jail. Any form of guardhouse was a huge punishment, but it had different degrees. In some twisted way, Darrow had been generous.

Because, for the first time in his life, Rowan Whitethorn had committed a military crime, and he was currently being locked up for it. Ten days. One for each week he committed improper sexual conduct.

"Dude, did you hit on Lorcan or something? He’d totally lock you up for that kind of shit.”

Fen’s breathing was more steady now. Good for him. Rowan couldn’t have picked a worse person to bring the essentials so he could survive this hell.

“Yes, Fenrys. I was hitting on Lorcan. I don’t know what’s more enticing to me, his wife or the fact that he has a newborn kid.”

“But you did hit on someone.” Fenrys had crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

“Nope.”

He didn’t. He had a very lawful one-night stand with Aelin, then she threw herself at him and he fell for it hook, line and sinker, because that woman is a fucking Venus flytrap.

"You hit on Darrow?"

"I would not, under any circumstance, hit on Colonel Darrow."

Fen snorted. "His niece?”

Rowan flexed his jaw.

Fenrys' eyes widened.

"You totally hit on his niece." His mouth opened to speak, but he didn’t because his jaw completely fell. "No, you fucked his niece. She’s the reason you've been getting home late, isn’t she?"

Rowan’s hands were balled into fists. Thinking about everything he did because of that girl made his limbs twitch.

“Holy Mala.” It took a few seconds for Fenrys to have a proper reaction. “Man, that girl is related to two people. A colonel and the Brigadier. She's the forbidden fruits' forbidden fruit. Not even I am that dumb, and you know I love forbidden fruit."

"I knew it then.” He gestured around his cell. "And I clearly know it now.”

"I can't believe I was the proper instructor this entire time.”

Rowan closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath as he tried to not snap at his friend.

"You weren’t, under any circumstance—“

“I totally was. I can even go by Lieutenant Goody Two-Shoes.”

“Fenrys, I know you let the newbies play with the guns while quoting James Bond—”

“You’re just pissed I out-goody-two-shooed you.” Fenrys crossed his arms, but held a glazed look on his face. “God, I didn’t even hit on Galathynius’ boyfriend, trying not to fuck up.”

Rowan glared. “Can we please not talk about her boyfri—“

“Shit, man. Sorry. I didn’t know you liked her.”

“I don’t,” he hissed.

“You sure? I can totally steal her man if it’ll make you feel better.”

Rowan checked the bag Fenrys brought him. Everything he needed was there.

“Thank you, Fenrys,” he hinted while looking him in the eye. A clear dismissal.

It wasn’t his friend’s fault, though. Maybe Rowan would laugh about this with him someday, but not today.

Today, his thoughts were on the fact that Aelin Galathynius was the worst mistake of his fucking life. And wanting to never see her again was definitely the reason she came through the same door Fenrys left seconds before, guided by a sergeant.

He held a finger up before she could seat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Aelin flinched, but sat anyway. “I need to talk to you.”

“Didn’t you talk enough with your uncles already?”

“About that…” Aelin scratched the back of her neck, cheeks flushing. “I did tell them we had a fling, why would you tell them the details?”

Rowan saw red. She knew damn well the reason that got him such bad punishment was the place it all happened, and there was no way she’d get to pretend she didn’t snitch him.

“Why would I lie to Darrow when he made it clear he knew everything? He’d just double my days here until I confessed.”

She slowly nodded, running both hands through her hair. “He told you he knew everything without telling you what everything means, showed you absolutely no proof of it, then you just confessed without questioning?”

“Yes.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Gods, Rowan, how can you be so stupid? You fell right into Darrow’s trap!”

“I thought you’d told him!”

“I didn’t tell him shit!”

Rowan rubbed his face and took a deep breath. “So how does he know?”

“About that.” Aelin’s face flushed, and she fidgeted with her fingers for a moment before continuing, “I didn’t get to do my exam last Friday, did you hear about that?”

Rowan nodded. “News ran fast. I thought you knew better than to be on drugs and in the military at the same time.”

It was easy to assume, since the tox screen is the main reason newbies don’t pass that stage. It was hard to believe Aelin would be so dumb, but he didn’t know her. After what happened today, Rowan came to the conclusion he didn’t know her at all.

“I don’t do drugs, I-“ she took a deep breath, and her vulnerable blue eyes worked like daggers pointed at him. “They didn’t let me do the physical exam because I’m pregnant.”

Objectively, this was a better reason than drugs. It didn’t feel like it, though.

She got rid of Rowan, got her dream job, and is starting a family while he got his career stained forever by this.

“Congratulations. Your boyfriend must be thrilled.”

Aelin flinched as if he’d slapped her, and that expression alone told him she didn’t know he knows she'd been dating someone while seeing him.

“Actually…” she swallowed. “Dorian has a vasectomy, and he wasn’t in town during the… possible conception days.” She cringed. “Biologically, you’re the father.”

Rowan’s eyes bulged, then his body froze completely.

Father.

He was going to be a father.

Time slowed down, and he couldn’t seem to believe his ears.

It was unexpected, of course, especially because of Aelin’s situation—

Wait a second.

“Did loverboy not want the baby? Is that why you’re here?”

Silence stretched for too long, and Rowan saw her surprised face morph into something else he hadn’t seen before on her.

“You know what, Rowan?” Aelin shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t need you for shit. I have my family’s support. I have money to raise a fuckton of children. If you’re waiting for me to crawl and beg you to do your fucking job, that’s not gonna happen.” She adjusted her purse around her shoulders and got up. “I’m having a baby. It has your genes. You can be as much of a dad you want, or not at all.”

Her words sent a new wave of heat through his body, making him stand as well to stop her.

Rowan would be a father to this kid, she would be sure of that. Even if he lived in an alternative universe where he didn’t want it, he would father the shit out of this kid just to piss Aelin off.

“Seriously? Do I look like some deadbeat dad to you?”

“I. Don’t. Know!” Aelin screamed. “I just got knocked up by a stranger!”

Rowan froze, letting that word sink in and start a riot inside his body.

Stranger? Stranger?

After seeking him out every goddamned evening for more than two months, she has the nerve to call him a stranger?

“What the fuck was this?” Rowan shouted. “Just a courtesy nod? Did you even expect anything from me before you came here?”

She didn’t answer.

Nowadays, it seemed like anything Aelin did made him ache. She had a point, though. They didn’t know each other very well. He still couldn’t believe she thought he’d abandon her in a situation like this.

“I don’t know!” Aelin groaned, pacing around the room and running both hands through her head. “I didn’t get much time to think. I thought maybe you’d want to see the kid every other weekend or—“

“Every other weekend?” He sneered. “Do I look like the every other weekend type to you?”

“Rowan, listen—“

“No, you listen. Don’t you come here telling me I’m becoming a father just to offer me every other weekend!” He crossed his arms, face flat. “I want to see your exams, all of them. I will be to every doctor appointment, I’ll make meal plans because I remember you telling me you survive on chocolate cake—“

“You don’t get to say a word about my chocolate cake!” She screamed, interrupting him. “Neither do you get to talk down to me! You don’t get to order me around, because I’m not a fucking surrogate mother you hired to bear your child!” Aelin paused, catching her breath while she leaned closer to him. “And whatever you decide, you’ll be lucky if I even tell you when the baby is due if you don’t treat me, the mother of your child, with respect. Do you hear me, Lieutenant?”

He did, but didn’t get to tell her so.

Aelin turned around and banged the door closed, leaving him alone to think about whatever the hell had just happened.

˜˜

“SAVE YOURSELF!” Maisie warned her best friend from the top of the playground tower as they played… something.

Like most weekends, Rowan and Lorcan took the kids to the playground in front of both of their houses, since their streets were perpendicular to one another. As much as he liked to pay attention to his daughter’s shenanigans, Rowan’s head was somewhere else today. The kids looked safe, and Lorcan was there watching them too. It would have to be enough for now.

"Am I supposed to give advice? Or just listen?"

Rowan sighed. He had just told Lorcan how he and Aelin were successfully doing that thing where they traumatized their daughter until she becomes an unruly teenager who drinks alcohol at school and smokes weed with a guitarist that pretends to be a feminist to make Rowan’s worst nightmares come true. No. This is stopping now.

Except that last Friday, when they left Maisie at Orlon’s to talk after that meeting, it was a shit show.

Rowan said it was her fault because she never listens to him. Aelin screamed that he is the one who never listens to her. Rowan replied, in a strident tone, that Maisie would be better off if he were only doing things his way like she claimed.

Things went extremely downhill from there. It was one of their most unproductive exchanges.

He dropped Maisie at Lorcan’s the next day to talk again, but she wasn’t home.

Now it was Sunday, and he could only hope Aelin would show up at the game watch party Aedion talked him into hosting.

"Advice.” Rowan was just that desperate.

Lorcan shrugged. "Ellie thinks family therapy would help. I agree with her."

"You always agree with her."

"She's always right, man."

Rowan sighed. Of course Elide would think that. She's a psychiatrist. These people think anything can be cured with a few hours of counseling.

"I think I'll stick to my initial plan."

"Your brilliant plan of not fighting?" Lorcan raised an eyebrow.

Rowan crossed his arms. "My brilliant plan of not provoking or letting myself be provoked. It's pure self-control.“ He shuffled his feet. ”I can do that."

"Your plan is shit."

"I don't need it to be perfect, I need it to work.”

“Okay.” Lorcan ran a hand through his hair. "But you think you'll manage to never have a fight with Aelin again after five years of unresolved shit?"

"Yes," Rowan said through gritted teeth. God, he was tired of explaining his perfectly laid-out plan.

He wasn’t saying it’d be easy. He knew he wouldn’t. But if refusing to fight didn’t work, Rowan had no idea what the fuck he’d do. Because the only other option would be to continue to hurt his little girl, and just the thought of it made his ribs close so tight it left a deep hollow inside him.

Just like clockwork, Aelin showed up at the playground holding a weird white thing. Maisie found her first, running her mother’s way and hugging her legs with a blissful smile on her face.

Aelin crouched to talk to the kids first, sending the adults a small wave from afar.

“Go.” Lorcan elbowed him. “I’ve got ‘em.”

Rowan nodded, rolled his shoulders and went their way. He couldn’t hear it from where he was initially at, but Maisie was telling her mom something.

“Is that right?” Aelin smiled. “Why do you love trees?”

“‘Cause they become toilet paper!” Her little limbs were excitedly waving in the air. “And if we didn’t have toilet paper, everyone would have dirty bums all the time.”

Rowan cleared his throat, and Maisie took a sharp turn his way.

“Daddy! I was teaching trees to mom.”

He clamped his lips together, since trying to look serious to his daughter was a skill he mastered a long time ago. Of course Maisie would learn something new at school and think she’s the only person in the world who knows that information.

“Yeah?” He swallowed, remembering what he needed to say. “Mais, why don’t you tell that to Uncle Lorcan while your mother and I talk for a second?”

Maisie’s limbs went limp by her side. Her little green eyes cautiously darted between the two of them.

Surprisingly enough, it was Lorcan’s kid who spoke on her behalf.

“I want to keep playing,” Charlie insisted, eyes furrowed.

“Yeah!” Maisie immediately backed him up, mirroring her best friend’s body language.

“Oh, but you will.” Aelin smiled at the kids’ protest. “Lorcan will stay here with you now, then you can play here until it’s time for the game.”

Maisie seemed content enough, but Lorcan’s son frowned. It was no secret that Charlie didn’t share his father’s love for sports.

“Dad and I already watched a game this week.”

“We’re watching another one,” Rowan explained.

Charlie huffed. “Who knows the ways of men?”

Rowan snorted, immediately recognizing the quote from Frozen 2.

The walk to his place was slower than it could’ve been if the reminder of what did and was about to happen wasn’t looming like a dark cloud above them.

“What’s that?” Rowan asked while fishing his keys out of his pocket.

“Oh.” Aelin’s eyebrow raised as if she’d just remembered she was carrying this white fabric all along. When she opened it, holding with both opened arms, it made even less sense.

“A table cloth?”

She grimaced. “I don’t have an actual white flag, and the napkin seemed too small for the occasion.”

Rowan felt a brittle patch of warmth underneath the whole turmoil he was feeling inside. This very literal white flag would probably be the closest thing to an apology he was ever getting, so he’d appreciate it.

After leading her to the kitchen, Rowan frowned at his table, considering his options, but handed her the cloth that was there.

“A light green flag?” Her eyebrows went up.

Rowan sighed. “My white cloths are either ruined or so far from Maisie’s reach I’ll need stairs to get them.”

Aelin snorted, a feeble smile on her face while she fumbled with his cloth, eyeing the juice stain in it from this morning.

“I went to your place yesterday.”

“Dorian and I threw a pity party. I would’ve stayed home if I knew you were coming, though.”

“It’s alright.” He bit the inside of his cheek and thinking of a good approach. “I figured out a plan to fix our… situation.”

“Go on.”

“We have to stop fighting.”

“I know.” Aelin gave him a firm nod “What’s your plan?”

“That’s it. We’ll stop fighting.”

“I—“ Aelin’s mouth closed. And opened. And closed again. “Rowan, you do realize how…” she trailed, carefully placing her words. “Flawed this plan is, right?”

“I think it’ll work.”

“Okay…” she ran a hand through her head, and Rowan worked to keep his breathing steady the long seconds she was just examining the walls and biting her lip. “Considering what you told me last Friday—“

“I said a lot of things I don’t mean last Friday.”

*I doubt that*, Aelin seemed to say with one wounded look she quickly concealed.

“You told me I don’t listen to you. I’ll try to get better at that.”

Rowan nodded, his eyes soft.

“We’ll try your plan, even if I don’t fully agree with it” she continued, “But if it doesn’t work, you’ll have to go along with my plan, okay?”

Aelin didn’t tell him what her plan was, but he agreed because there was no way it wouldn’t work. If neither of them provoked each other, there would be no fight. It was a logical thing, and it had already worked with them in the past.

His plan was foolproof.

“So it’s settled?”

“It’s settled.” Aelin said after a second of hesitancy. “We’ll restrain ourselves so we never have a fight again.”

“For Maisie.” Rowan extended a hand, and she shook it.

“For Maisie.”

They looked each other in the eye, holding each other’s hands for a little too long before she pulled it, reminding him of something.

“There’s this other thing I wanted to ask you.”

“Go on.”

“It’s about the wine thing. I’ve been thinking—”

She held a hand up to stop him. “Look, that meeting made it sound a lot worse than it actually is. It’s not a daily habit or anything. It’s just that…” Aelin pulled a chair and sat holding her head in one hand. She sighed. “Have you ever felt like you keep waiting your whole work day to end so you can be at home, but when you finally get home, you can’t stop thinking about work?”

Rowan frowned. He pulled another chair for himself and turned so he could face Aelin. Well, he used to feel like that. A lifetime ago, when he was working for the Air Force as an engineer. There was a reason he changed jobs, though. This week, the biggest headache he had was Lorcan getting pissed because one of the newbies was seen wearing regular sneakers at base.

“I thought you liked your job.”

“I do. I really do. I studied for almost a decade to be here, but sometimes I get home stressed out.” Aelin crossed her arms, not looking him in the eye. “Sometimes I’m just angry because a nurse did a shit job. Sometimes I have to tell a nineteen-year-old that just enlisted that they lost their leg while working. Sometimes I have to see some officer’s little kid completely fucked up because of some stupid shit and can’t stop thinking that it could’ve been Maisie.” Aelin’s voice broke in the end, so she stopped and looked at the ceiling. Taking deep breaths.

Rowan focused his whole being on every word she said, from the ache he felt to the pulse that seemed to beat on the rhythm of her words. He wanted to grasp every feeling she’d try to hide from him later. He wanted to ask her so many things. If any of this had been recent, why did she never mention any of it to him. He didn’t, though. He knew she wasn’t the type to open up easily, and he was scared to say anything that would shatter this fragile moment they were having.

“It’s never much, though.” Aelin continued, “And I’m never not present for Maisie. She was just extra interested because it’s the one thing in my kitchen she can’t have.”

“I still don’t know how I feel about this.” Rowan sighed. He wanted to at least sound more supportive after she opened up, but this conversation was still about their very little girl.

“That’s understandable.” Aelin slowly nodded, biting her lip and looking at a blank spot on the wall. “I can stop if it’s important to you.”

“Just on the days Maisie is with you,” he conceded. “Elide might have my head if you stop altogether.”

“Well, she already says you ruined her sex life. You can’t ruin Girls’ Night too.”

They let out a bittersweet chuckle, and something on Rowan’s chest eased to see Aelin in a slightly brighter mood. Also, to know they were having an actual conversation instead of screaming nonsense at each other.

“Can I ask you something too?”

“What?” He frowned.

“You asked me to stop drinking around Maisie. Now I want to ask you something too.”

“Oh…” Rowan trailed, scattering his brain for something he might’ve done wrong. “Go on.”

“I want you to take care of yourself,” Aelin’s tone was firm as she adjusted her posture and looked deep into his eyes.

Rowan’s mouth opened and closed before he spoke. “I take care of myself.”

“No, you keep yourself alive and take care of Maisie.” Aelin fidgeted with a beaded bracelet she made with their daughter. “I was hoping we could talk about what happened that other Friday.”

When he went to the hospital. Just mentioning it made his body temperature rise.

“That day was just a false alarm, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring this up again.”

Aelin looked as if he’d slapped her. Rowan would understand this reaction if he was truly denying something after she opened up to him, but that was not the case.

Honestly? He blamed Cortland for implying that Rowan had anxiety in front of Aelin. The doctor was just bitter after things ended with her, and said that to make him look bad. That was the only explanation.

Rowan doesn’t have a disorder. He’s just a concerned father who had an erratic heartbeat after a stressful moment. It’s merely being human.

“Okay…” Aelin nodded. “It’s not just about that day.” She took a deep breath and fully turned to him. “Remember that day when Maisie got sick and you called me asking how to give her the meds? Because you couldn’t read the leaflet?”

It had been three, maybe four months ago. Rowan crossed his arms. “What about it?”

“Did you go to the eye doctor?”

”I’m fine.” He crossed his arms. “That leaflet’s font was just too small.”

“Unlock your phone.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

He did it, letting her quickly examine his screen before she looked back at him with raised eyebrows.

“What?”

“The size of the text on your phone is so big I could read it from across the street. This is not a screen of someone who has good reading vision.”

Rowan gaped, not knowing what to say and wondering how she came up with this. Fuck, maybe Aelin was why Maisie was a smartie, as she liked to say herself.

His eyes widened with the realization of something.

“Do you think that’s why Maisie’s struggling to read? Because she need an eye doctor?”

Aelin’s jaw went slack. “Can you hear yourself?” Rowan blinked, not understanding, and she rolled her eyes. “You can’t focus on yourself for twenty seconds before making it about Maisie, Rowan. No, that’s not the reason she can’t read. The teacher said she can recognize letters, remember?”

“Yeah, she did.” He sighed, shoulders relaxing. “So it’s settled. You’ll stop drinking when Maisie is at your place. I’ll see the eye doctor.”

”Actually, the eye doctor was just an example.”

“Do you want me to go to the eye doctor or not?”

“It’s not about me wanting something, Rowan, you should…” she took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know what? Okay. No fights, no wine, you’ll go to the eye doctor.”

“We got this.” They firmly shook each other’s hands again to seal this new phase.

˜˜

The living room had seven adults, and the only way they could keep an eye on the children and watch the game at the same time was by placing the play mat between the couch and the TV.

He complained at first when Aedion invited the whole crew to watch the game at Rowan’s house, but he didn’t mind now. In fact, he even liked it. Not only it was a good distraction from this hellish weekend, but it was also entertaining to see Fenrys getting pissed because he missed a goal when he went to the kitchen.

Aedion suggested Fenrys brings bad luck to the game, since the only goal has been while he was away. No one disagreed.

While Charlie was there just to play and because his parents made him, Maisie had her attention divided between her friend and the game. As much attention as a four-year-old could have, actually.

Rowan didn’t know if Maisie actually liked soccer or if she just picked up on her family’s excitement every time an important game is on, but he loved it anyway. Today, he even asked Aelin to come earlier so she could braid Maisie’s hair with ribbons on the team’s color. Rowan sighed. Every time he learned a new hairstyle, his daughter came up with something even more elaborate. It took him almost a month to get the french braid right, but now Maisie wanted it with ribbons.

She looked so damn cute with it, though. He’d probably end up on another Youtube tutorial.

Besides, a smile crosses Rowan’s face every time she wears the Doranelle White Hawks jersey he buys whenever she grows out of one.

”NO!” Maisie screamed, dramatically raising her hands and surprising them all. “Keep your eye on the pie!”

“It’s prize, Munchkin,” Fenrys corrected around a smile, but his eyes were still glued to the TV.

“That’s what I said,” the little girl defended herself, eyes narrowed at her uncle.

Unable to restrain himself and respect his preschooler’s drive for independence, Rowan picked his daughter up and smacked a kiss on her cheek. Luckily, she just giggled and nestled in his lap.

“I’ll be right back,” Fenrys announced and left the room.

The second he closed the bathroom door shut, Athril seized the ball and started to run towards the goal.

“OH MY GOD,” Elide exclaimed, and Lorcan rubbed her upper arm without looking away from the TV.

“WHAT?” Fen screamed from the bathroom.

“DON’T LET HIM OUT!” Aedion roared, pointing a finger in the bathroom’s direction.

Rowan wasn’t one for sports superstition, but he wouldn’t object.

Dorian got up and went the bathroom’s way so fast he stumbled and almost fell, but never gave up. He stood there, holding the handle from one side while Fenrys banged on the door from the other.

“LET ME OUT! I WANT TO SEE THE GAME!” Fen screamed, but one one listened.

It was hard to pay attention on anything else than Athril dribbling each and every one of his opponents, showing off his skills until—

“GOOOOAL,” they screamed in unison, getting up from their seats to cheer.

Fenrys came back running, but instead of complaining, he lit up when he saw the goal’s replay. Picking Dorian up, he cheered alongside everyone else.

Maisie was screaming and twirling on the floor, and even little Charlie looked content. Also, Rowan didn’t miss it the way his daughter tugged on her mother’s leg, whispered something in her ear, and then Aelin left for the kitchen.

“What did Mais want?” He asked after following her.

“Just sandwiches for her and Charlie.”

Rowan nodded, pointed at the bread on his counter and opened the fridge to get the other ingredients.

“Why don’t you throw this away?”

Aelin was frowning at the bread pack. Her hand was going over the first slice of the loaf of bread, picking the other ones the kids would accept.

“What?”

“This crusty slice of bread.”

“Are you bothered by it?”

Sighing, she turned to him. “Actually, yes. It’s like this whole barrier I have to go through before getting to the slice of bread Maisie will eat.”

“Maybe I just don’t throw things away as easily as you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You just told me to throw away not one, but the two ends of the bread just because it looks too crusty to you.“ Rowan shrugged. ”I don’t like throwing food away just because.”

“But you won’t eat it!” Aelin’s tone was gradually rising. “You won’t eat the slice, you’ll just break it in crumbs as you go over it to reach for the other slices, and it’ll end up in the trash anyway!”

“Why do you hate the crusty slice so bad?” His jaw was already set by this point, eyes shooting daggers at her.

“Because I don’t like crusty bread!” Aelin screamed. “I like my bread fluffy and comfortable! Why in hell would I settle for crusty bread?”

Rowan felt his blood ringing in his ears. “Well, maybe I don’t want another slice of bread! Maybe I want my crusty bread because it’s mine! Flawed as it is.”

“You’re not even eating that fucking slice! You’re just stringing it along, inside your little bread pack, until it breaks completely and you inevitably throw it away.” Aelin was gesticulating each time more, coming closer to him as well.

Rowan crossed his arms. “I would never throw my slice of bread away. And if you think—“

“Oh, really? Then what did you do to all the other crusty slices from your other packs?”

“THEY’RE IN HIS MAMA’S ASS,” Elide interrupted, voice louder than any of them as she banged the kitchen’s door closed. “Are you two serious right now?”

Rowan’s frenetic heart seemed to sink into his stomach.

Their agreement to never fight ever again had lasted five hours.

He bowed his head, refusing to meet any of the women in the eye. He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking of something to say, even though he knew he should be apologizing.

“I’ll finish the sandwiches, you can—“

Elide crossed her arms. “No, I am making the sandwiches, because you are so busy screaming at each other you forgot to feed the kids.” She shook her head, cursing under her breath. “Now you two will go sit at opposite ends of the living room because I ain’t going anywhere before the White Hawks win, so you’ll have to behave for once. Understood?”

“Sure,” Aelin mumbled. Rowan still wouldn’t look at her.

He nodded.

After they went to the living room, everything seemed normal. Everyone acted like nothing had happened, but Rowan knew better.

No matter what the subject was, he always felt the same after fighting with Aelin. The heated skin, tense muscles, replaying arguments inside his head.

It felt different this time.

After this fight, he felt nothing but shame.

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass fic #throne of glass #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #look at us now

102 notes · View notes

apollodarling-writes · 2 years ago

Note

“if you don’t clean something to his liking, he’ll use it as an excuse to clean with you”

Imaging us scrubbing something and Levi doesn’t think we’re doing it good enough so he gets down and grabs the sponge and gets to work. But that’s not the interesting part it’s his back. That mf is arched without him knowing. Mf got that twink arch fr fr and that ass- anyway. Just imagining watching him and just make a comment like “Are you sure your not meant to be in a house cooking and cleaning like a cute little househusband?” Then we just snicker a little bit

OH MY GOD THIS IS PERFECT!!

“Oi, [Name]. You’re not doing it good enough.”

Levi had been watching you clean the baseboards for the last thirty minutes, consistently commenting that there was still dirt here and there was a scuff stain there. It was getting on your damn nerves.

“Yeah? Well how about you fuckin’ do it!” You snap. Levi is silent before he turns and grabs a sponge. For a moment there you thought you fucked up and he was going to kick your ass again.

“I’ll show you how to clean something right, ya damn brat.” With wide eyes, you watch as Levi sinks to his knees and begins to describe (in great detail) how to properly and efficiently clean a baseboard with the materials provided.

“-nd here you’ve gotta scrub at approximately seventy-five degrees-“

But you couldn’t focus on the god awful lecture he was giving you. The only thing you could focus on was how double cheeked up (apparently everyday of the week) Levi really was. How hadn’t you noticed? With that much cake surely you would’ve… right?

“…me]…. [ame]… [Name]…for fucks sake- OI BRAT!”

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you hurriedly meet his eyes. “Y-Yes Levi?”

You swallow thickly as he narrows his eyes. “What the hell were you so focused on?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“…tch, alright. Listen this time.” And with that, he continues to lecture you on cleaning the baseboards.

“-hen it comes to scuff marks, you’ve gotta-“

This time around, you notice the obscene arch in his back. It was like he was asking to be pegged. The arch was so good, so experienced, you thought he might’ve had some experience bottoming. Maybe the Captain was gay? Or at least a little fruity.

There was absolutely no way he hasn’t bottomed for some guys with that filthy, shameless, lewd ass arch in his back. He turns to you and asks you a question- you assume he’s asking if you’ve understood what he’s explained so you nod your head. He huffs and continues cleaning, you following suit, sneaking glances at his back every so often.

“Damn, Levi.” You mumble without your knowing. “You sure you’re not meant to be my malewife?”

His head snaps to you, eyes wide and pupils dilated. “W-What was that?”

“What-I didn’t-“

“You did! You just- You- Did you just- What the fuck?!”

He stands up faster than you’ve ever seen the short man move, pointing at you with shaking fingers.

“You just said I should be your ma-mA-MALEWIFE?!” His face flushed a shade of brilliant, eye-scorching red.

“First it was that I had a small p-penis! Which is perfectly average if you must know! And now you’re telling me that I should quit my job and be your stay at home husband?!”

You quickly stand too, stifling a laugh. “Levi- I mean, the arch in your back was-“

“The aRCH?! I DO NOT ARCH MY BACK!” He screeches.

“Yes, you do! I saw it with my own eyes!” You exclaim.

“I-“

“Levi.” You say with a seriousness that puts the man off kilter. He gulps audibly. “Have you… Have you been pegged?”

“WHAT?! I HAVE NOT!”

“WHY ARE YOU SO DEFENSIVE?! ARE YOU SECRETLY GAY?!”

“NO!”

“WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?”

“WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?!”

The Cadets two rooms over and the rest of the Survey Corps (including Hange) heard the whole thing, attempting to hold in their laughter. Connie and Sasha were the first ones to fail, everyone else following immediately after. You could hear Hange’s cackle from the kitchen and Jeans wheeze from down the hall; Eren’s broken-down-carriage-laugh and Armin’s quiet chuckling as well.

Levi was horrified. That day, all of the Cadets- unfortunately including you- were forced to run laps around the base until midnight.

152 notes · View notes

campbyler · 11 months ago

Note

BHDSDNSJDBKSJDK S OMFG OMFG I GIGGLED LIKE A MANIAC LIKE THE WHOLE TIME I WAS READING HOLY SHIT AHHHHHHHHHH THEY ARE SUCH STUPID IN LOVE IDIOTS "yes youre obsessed with me" HOLY SHIT THE SASS OH MY GODDDDDD I WAS LIKE WHAT IS HAPPENING IS MIKE TAKING HIM ON A DATE HOLY SHIT AND THEN HE WAS BUT I DONT THINK WILL KNOWS IT WAS A DATE SBDSKNKJS THE COOL COOL MOMENT SDBSHD JS BSFHBSJDBS WILL LIKES HOW MIKE DRIVES OMFGG THEY LIKE HOLDING EACH OTHERS HANDS IM LITERALLY GONNA START SQUEALING okay mike is so real for his oshawatt pin on his fanny pack also ngl i kinda forgor that will works at starbucks but also like of course he does i feel like thats just a fact that everyone should know OMFGGG THEY ARE BOTH THE MOST CLINGY BITCHES EVER NHJSBUBHJWSBJ "engaging in behavior usually reserved for amusement park queues" HELP WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS TRYING NOT TO LAUGH OUT LOUD SO BADLY THAT I GOT LIGHTHEADED AND ALMOST FELL OUT OF MY BED I AM NOT FUCKING KIDDING I WAS OUT OF BREATH AND WHEEZING FOR LIKE FIVE MINUTES AND HAD TO TAKE A BREAK FROM READING NHJBSHBDKS THEY ARE SO FUCKING CLINGY OH MY GOD the vulnerablility 🥺🥺 they are being do soft with each other 🥺🥺 mike is finally opening up 🥺🥺🥺🥺 i love his car shopping list and his reasons 🥺🥺🥺🥺 also jesus FUCKING christ ted is fucking crazy that makes me so angry that he would do that and that it made such a lasting impact on mike that all those years later he would be worried about that happening to him its not okay OMFG OF COURSE HIS PASSWORD IS KERMIT HE IS SO SILLY NSDSHBDSB BESBDNSNDDNKJSNDB HES GONNA TEACH WILL HOW TO DRIVE HIS CAR OMFG OMFG OMFG THAT IS PROBABLY SO INTIMATE FOR HIM TOO BECAUSE THE CAR IS SUPPOSED TO BE HIS BECAUSE NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO DRIVE HIS CAR AND NOW HES TEACHING WILL HOW TO DRIVE HIS CAR JUST SBHSBDKSNDIJNSFS

you fr knocked this one out of the fucking park thea like full on grand slam, everyone made it to home and the ball went so far we couldnt even see where it landed i am very thankful that you guys take the time to write these chapters so well anyway happy holidays 🫶 (and merry july in christmas lmao)

AHHHH OMGGGGG SUCH A LENGTHY REACTION I HAVE BEEN SO BLESSED!! LET ME TRY TO RESPOND PROPERLY (picture me cracking my knuckles without cracking them ty)

i am loving this play by play of everything!! i do need u to know that this has been Exactly what my brain has been doing on overdrive since likeeeee. february or march when we first drafted the concept for ch9 😭😭😭 i loveeeeed including the detail of mike's fanny pack and it's def most of the reason why i really want to draw their outfits!! i think will's starbucks job has either only been mentioned once or has only been mentioned on this blog, but it's a very important part of the universe #2 #me 💚 ALSO HELLLOOO I HOPE YOU ARE ALIVE AND OK AFTER ALMOST FALLING OUT OF YOUR BED???

i will sayyyy the ted story was definitely a bit of projection teehee (thanks #mom) but i did think it fit superrr well and was a really strong reason for why owning the car would be so important to him! i was so excited to be able to have him open up this chapter as well :')

i did have to debate between using snoopy and kermit for mike's passcode but kermit won out!! also YESSSS U ARE HITTING THE NAIL ON THE HEAAADDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!

ty so so so MUCHHH for your kind words and huge reaction, i'm so glad you enjoyed!! happy holidays and merry christmas in july!!!

#asks #ch09 #acswy spoilers #i keep saying YOU'VE HEARD OF CHRISTMAS IN JULY NOW GET READY FOR JULY IN CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!

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warnersister · 8 months ago

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Chapter 6 - A bargain with the executioner

The Highwayman Series | Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

“your ears broken, boy?” jake stopped in his tracks. He knew that infamous voice all to well. Especially when it was followed by a painfully wheezing cough, the man belching into a small rag. Sheriff Beau Simpson sat on the saloon chair, nursing a pint of beer he’d poured himself. “My ears aint broken, sir” Jake replies, surprisingly calm for a man doomed to death. “then why are you back, deadman?” He asked. “my friend needed a horse.” Jake replied simply. “Strangely enough, my lil girl’s field has gained three. Not lost one.” Beau tells him with a shrug. “Now don’t lie to me boy. She’s already lied, don’t you do it too. You’re dying either way.” Jake inhaled slowly “I was back because my friend needed a horse. I stayed because I had too.” “you had too?” the man raised his brows “not like your life depended on it.” The sheriff said with a grunt and jake slammed his fist on the bar “you know damn well Id’ve died that day if she wasn’t gonna be there. Do you know how much it hurt to leave her? Leave my girl behind?” “don’t call her your girl, boy-“ “no. no she is my girl, ive never looked... never touched another woman. Hell I have the diamond in my pocket I was gonna give her. I cant leave her again, and if y’want it to be in a casket then so be it. I aint hurting her again by leaving, y’aint gon make me again, sheriff.” Jake told him, standing his ground. “Who’s gon look after her when you’re dead?” Jake asks him “don’t talk about my death, boy” “what? Y’gonna leave her with no man? Alone? In this corner of the world?” Jake asked “because you live in a goddamn fantasy, sir. You're gonna die soon and she aint. She's gon' be here mourning at your damned grave” Jake told him and the man swallowed. “Maverick brought y’back. Didn’t he?” Jake nodded “damn man”

“But i'll be damned if my girl be with some highwayman” the sheriff told him “anything ive done on those trails I aint done nothing in Miramar. Never took a young maid’s baubles, aint never killed a soldier by my blade. Paid a good thirty for that ring and paid good money for the mare in that field. Hell, id give up the whole gig if she asked me too.” “that’s the problem boy, you’re too damn soft to that woman” “you aint soft enough” Jake said. “you’re lucky I don’t shoot ya now, boy” “if you were gonna shoot me, youd’ve done it by now.” The sheriff hums, appreciatively. “I’m gon give you another chance to run, boy” the man said and jake shrugged “ill live ‘nd die here sheriff, if it means I get five more minutes with her.” “I’m gonna hang ya on Sunday after this one, right after the service. I'll get the Reverend to bless your grave” Beau promised and Jake nodded “where’d y’wanna be buried, boy?” he asked “where she can see me from her window.” The sheriff held out his hand and jake shook it. “It’ll be dug by next Friday.” Jake walked past him “where’d y’think you’re going boy?” “to bed. Mav’s set us up for the time being.” “y’not scared boy?” “no sir, I aint livin’ without her anyway. Just survin’.” Jake took one look back at the sheriff. “Goodnight, Sheriff.” And he shut the door behind him.

“Y’actually going to kill him?” A croaked voice asked and Beau pivoted to look at the voice by the doors. “ice! What y’doing up at this hour?” he asked and the man shook his head “y’gon kill that girl before him” ice told him and Beau raised his eyebrows, “what? All I do is for that girl, after her momma died-“ “you nearly died of heartbreak, but y’ had her to keep you goin. Who’s she got to live for? He dies, she’ll follow. You’re lucky if it aint self-inflicted.” Ice shrugs, dragging himself around the bar to poor himself a drink “suicide? She wouldn’t” “the girl’s tied a noose before, whether for you or herself she still can.” Beau swallowed at the other man’s words.

“I think the reason she didn’t go the first time was cause she had y’to care for. To feed her lies.” Ice told him “I ain’t never lied” “yet Mav had to tell her tha’ she would’ve kicked the bucket?” Beau’s mouth ran dry “she knows?” Ice nods. “Look at yourself, Beau.” Ice wails, motioning for his younger companion to look into his reflection. His face was drooped from the stroke, pallor pale, hair grey and some parts even balding “y’think she’s gon' run into your arms when you kill him? Hm?” Beau stayed quiet.

Ice walked back around the bar and placed a warm hand on the other’s shoulder “she will always love her daddy, Beau. But she will still love him too” he promised, before leaving wordlessly, leaving the sheriff with his thoughts. He looked out from beyond the saloon doors, able to see your sleeping figure and your shoulders rising and falling as you lulled into a gentle slumber. Still that little girl he’d watch from the window when you’d sleep before the sun, giddily running into her daddy’s arms when he’d arrested another man.

You were no girl, you were a lady. A woman. But Beau couldn’t let his girl go. Not yet. That alone damn well might kill him.

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

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gryfflepuffinthetardis · 11 months ago

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True Colors (Sweet Jane Part Six) — Campbell Bain x Reader

Sweet Jane Episode One: Hey Jude

Sweet Jane Episode Two: Fly Like an Eagle

Sweet Jane Episode Three: You Always Hurt the One You Love

Sweet Jane Episode Four: Fool on the Hill

Sweet Jane Episode Five: Rainy Day in Georgia (But not Georgia Tennant.)

Sweet Jane Episode Six: Let It Be

“The amount of love I have for you will never be understood by others. From the way you touch me, to the look in your eyes. Through all these years you managed to captivate my heart. For this my soul will forever be your home. Mistakes happen, this I know. But the passion we both share erases the worst. Take my hand and come with me. Follow me to this path we both created. It may be unknown to most, but it sure is eternal for us.”

youtube

Campbell was trying to cheer up Francine with jokes by Y/N’s next to last day, “Okay, how about this one. A group of loonies go out on a day trip, and on the way back, they stop at a pub for a drink.”

“I think that's enough, Campbell, huh?” Eddie tried but Campbell ignored him.

“One of the loonies comes running up to the nurse saying, 'Nurse, nurse, that barmaid smiled at me!' So the nurse says, 'Well, smile back.' So the loony goes away, but he's back five minutes later, saying 'Nurse, nurse, that barmaid winked at me!' So the nurse says, 'Well, wink back.' So he's away again, but he's back ten minutes later saying ‘Nurse, nurse, that barmaid. she showed me her bosoms.’ So the nurse says, 'Well, show her your nuts!' So he's away again, straight up to the barmaid, and goes—” He made moose antlers on his head with his hands and screaming goofily in Francine’s face and wheezed with laughter but no one else did. “Do you not get it? The nurse says, 'Show her you're nuts', and he does!”

Still Francine had no reaction.

“All right, Campbell.” Eddie said, quietly and Campbell deflated. Then Eddie suggested, “Why don’t you help Y/N pack for tomorrow?”

Campbell nodded and walked to his girlfriend’s room.

“Have they found my kittens yet?” Francine asked.

“Francine, I told you. They were sick.” Eddie told her.

Y/N had been called to more lunch meetings with both River and Paula but she refused to tell Campbell what they discussed and since she as his girlfriend could easily distract him with kisses, though he had been a bit more clingy than usual, what with Y/N being discharged and his optimism that he would get a big DJ job, he feared whether or not they’d last but he never questioned the unconfessed love he had for her.

That evening, Eddie still wasn’t there so Campbell and Y/N took over the show. Eddie’s show.

“Well, that's about all we have time for tonight; don't forget to tune in tomorrow night for Campbell Bain's Looney Tunes Show!” He said and played the Looney Tunes jingle. Then Eddie entered, Campbell turned to him, taking his headphones off, “Eddie! Where the hell have you been?”

“Sorry I'm late.” Eddie mumbled.

"Late?" Campbell scoffed, “You've missed the whole bloody show!”

“I've been working. I don't have to catch every one of your shows fae start to finish, do I?”

Campbell and Y/N glared pointedly at Eddie and the soon to be discharged answered, “It was your show.” As Campbell bitterly tossed his headphones on the desk.

“...It was?” Eddie asked.

Campbell, Rosalie, and Y/N gave him pointed looks.

“Look, I'm sorry. I had a few bevvies; didnae want to drive.” Eddie apologized.

“‘A couple of bevvies’?” Campbell scoffed with a disbelieving chuckle and a glance at his girlfriend, “You look like you've been on a three-day binge!”

“Look, Campbell! I'm a salesman. That's what I get paid for. I don't get paid for coming here.” Eddie argued.

“Yeah, now that Francine’s been in a psychogenic coma of grief.” Y/N said, sharply.

Eddie glared at her, pointedly.

“Well, I don't think that's a very professional attitude.” Campbell said, casually, checking his fingernails.

“What do I need a professional attitude for?” Eddie asked, confused.

“For when you go to lunch with Paula Kinghorn.” Campbell said and grinned cheekily at Eddie, “She's been trying to get in touch with you for days!”

“Jesus.”

“I would’ve informed you if you’d been here the past week.” Y/N said.

Campbell got up and went to Eddie, excitedly, “Lunch, Eddie, lunch! And then she said,” He put his imitation of Paulaagain, “‘I probably shouldn't be saying this yet, but I think I'm gonna have good news for ya’.”

“I cannae. You go, Campbell.”

“He can’t.” Y/N said.

“Then you go.” Eddie told her.

“She’s had lunch with me three times. She specifically said she wanted to have lunch with you.” Y/N said.

“I cannae do it.”

“How no?!” Campbell exclaimed, his octaves going up.

“I've been waiting for this all my life. If I went intae lunch and came out with nothing, I don't know what I'd do.” Eddie said, clearly in shock.

“You'll not come out with nothing.” Campbell reassured him.

Aye. Just make sure she pays for lunch.” Rosalie said.

“And trust me, I’ve had lunch her thrice and her assistant six times.”

“Lunch.” Eddie mumbled.

Campbell turned to his girlfriend, "You've gone out with the assistant six times?"

“Campbell…” Y/N groaned that night, “Please, let me get dressed into my pajamas.”

“This is the last night for quite a while I’ll get to spend the night with you.” Campbell whined with his arms around her, pulling her flush against him with her back against his chest.

“Campbell, we’ll be fine. C/N moved in four days ago, she has the essentials unpacked, I’m a fifteen minute drive away. Five if you’re the one driving. It’ll be fine. I’ll visit you every day and by the time you get discharged you’ll have made a name for yourself and you won’t be forced to move to Perth.”

“Don’t go snogging any other boys?” He asked.

She chuckled, “I promise. And I’ve taken self-defense classes now so if another EX/N comes to me, I’ll destroy them.”

“Y/N… I… I…” He felt himself freeze from the inside so he just kissed her.

The next day, Campbell was helping Y/N pack as she was leaving after his show when they heard Eddie’s voice shout, “THIS IS MY RADIO STATION!”

They looked at each other and ran out towards the station as they saw Eddie get shoved out of the radio station.

“Eddie?” Campbell asked as they pushed through the doors.

“Bastards.” Eddie murmured.

“Eddie?!”

“Bastards!” Eddie screamed and the couple saw a man in the station.

“Who's he?” Campbell asked.

Eddie passed them as he stormed out, “I’m not having this. I'M NOT HAVING IT!

Y/N went to the door and banged on it but the man gave her a gesture that was rather rude.

“Okay.” She said, irritated and pulled a bobby pin she stole from her cousin out and started to pick the lock before slamming it open.

“Y/N, no…”

“I’m just saying you didn’t have to hit him.” Campbell told his girlfriend, some time later as they looked through the records.

“I didn’t hit him. I was… gesturing for emphasis.” She said.

“Well, you gestured him right in the face.” Campbell said but he was smiling at her. He leaned towards her and gave her a kiss, still grinning. She pulled back and he cupped her cheek, deepening the kiss.

“Oh, you beautiful doll, you great big beautiful doll...” Rosalie sang when she came in.

The couple broke apart and looked at her in surprise to see her with her hair curled and make up on her face.

“So. What do you think?" She asked.

"I'm speechless!" Campbell excliamed.

"I have had a complete makeover. Sylvia, in the flat next to mine, used to be a beautician. I'm living in a posh neighborhood now, so I thought I should make the effort."

“Well, are you not worried about chemicals and that?” Y/N asked.

“Sylvia is an obsessive-compulsive as well!” Rosalie said and the couple laughed, breathlessly at this. “If it's all right with her, then it's all right with me. She is a genius, so she is.”

“What have you got in the trolley?” Campbell asked, referring to the cart Rosalie was wheeling as he sat down, pulling Y/N down to sit in his lap.

“My shopping. Just a few things from the wee shop down the road. Take 'em home with me the night.”

“Have you not got shops in your new neighborhood?” Y/N frowned.

“Oh, aye.”

“But then would it not make sense to do your shopping in the local shops?” Campbell asked.

“Aye...” Rosalie sighed, “but they won't serve me.”

“What?!” Campbell and Y/N asked.

“They won't serve anybody from Hill Crest. Not the paper shop. Not the late night shop. Even the local GP's a bit frosty on account of him being chairman of the residents' committee for getting our planning commission reviewed.”

Campbell sighed and said, “Ye cannae stand for that, Rosalie. Ye've got'ae tell them:” He put on his bad American accent again, “You're not gonna take any more o' dis crapola.”

“What American films are you watching?” Y/N laughed and tried her (best) American accent, “You’re not gonna take any more of this crap.”

“Aye! That's what I told the man in the paper shop. But he told me to bugger off! He swore at me, Campbell, which I think was uncalled for.”

“You going to ask them to move you, then?” Y/N asked.

“Move me?! You're joking! I've got a bath and toilet in the same wee room, and a washing machine on the premises, and—a microwave! Do either of you know what a microwave is?” Campbell was about to speak when she cut him off, “You put your dinner in, and them microwaves make the wee molecules jiggle up and down. It's a bit like ECT.”

Then Eddie entered, rather numbly, “Eddie! What do you think?” Rosalie approached him, “Jim said I looked like a film star. One that had been in the Betty Ford clinic once too often, but a film star!”

“You look very nice.” Eddie said, flatly and continued passed Rosalie and then the couple.

“What's up with him?” Rosalie asked.

Eddie turned around to break the news to the three, “They're closing us down.”

Campbell and Y/N spoke in unison.

“How?!” Campbell gasped.

“What!?” Y/N said, getting to her feet.

“To turn this place into a treatment room. That's how the workman was in here. We've got a week to pack up and be out of here.” Eddie explained.

“You mean I'll not be station manager anymore?” Rosalie asked, softly.

“...No.”

Campbell got up and got in Eddie’s face. “What are you talking about? We're not going to lie down and play dead over this, are we? We've built something here, Eddie! When I go round the wards collecting requests, I'm a celebrity! And you know how? Because we give folks a voice! And now the hospital is telling us to shut up?!”

“Well, what can we do?

“We can declare UDI! We can turn ourselves into an independent charity, like most hospital radio stations in the country. Demand a site, and then run the station the way we want to! The only thing stopping us is lack of dosh.”

“That's also the only thing stopping me paying my milk bill.” Rosalie said.

“So we stage a fundraiser like we did before. Ehh... I've got it! A radiothon!”

“You mean like a telethon without any pictures.” Y/N asked.

“Aye.” Campbell said, “We'll broadcast from ten in the morning till ten at night, every day till we raise the dosh. We'll contact mental health charities, we'll enlist celebrity DJs, we'll ensure we get coverage in every newspaper in Glasgow.”

“Campbell, if my name appears in the papers again, I'm out of my job.” Eddie argued.

“Who cares. You're gonna go to lunch with Paula on Monday. You'll have another job.”

“We don't know that, Campbell!” Eddie shouted.

“She said she was going to have good news! Have some faith, Eddie! This is our moment!” Campbell encouraged.

Eddie: Then how do we need to save the station?” Eddie retorted.

Campbell’s smile fell and disappointment was etched over his face, he looked back at Rosalie and Y/N and then back at Eddie and he spoke a disappointed tone, “The station isn't just you and me, Eddie.”

“I cannae come in with you, Campbell.”

“...Aye…” Campbell stepped away from him Well. You with me, Rosalie?

“Aye, I'm with ya.”

Campbell turned to Y/N, “Y/N?”

“Of course. Just because I’m being discharged doesn’t mean I won’t be here to support you.”

He broke his loving gaze from his girlfriend to Eddie, giving him a look of disappointment and a little betrayal.

“Then we'll do it ourselves, Eddie. And I'll talk to Francine as well.” Campbell seemed to now be having a hard time looking at Eddie.

Eddie looked at Campbell for a long time before wishing him, “...Good luck.”

He exited, walking between Campbell, Y/N, and Rosalie. Campbell refused to look at him, shoving his hands in his pockets before Y/N got on her tip-toes and hugged him, he wrapped his arms around her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Y/N asked Campbell.

“No. I don’t want spend our last night together talking about Eddie.” He sighed, “Come here.” He kissed her, desperately but she pulled back, feeling wetness on his face and saw him trying not to cry. He rested his against her shoulder, sniffling.

“Oh, Campbell. I’m only going to be fifteen minutes away,”

“It’s not fair. Maybe if we could keep having nights like this. I like being there to help you stave off the nightmares. I like waking up from a memory of my dad’s lectures and knowing that you’re there with me lifts me higher than ever before. I like pretending like we’re not just a couple of teenagers in their first… well, healthy relationship. I like you… a lot. I’ve never had anyone who wanted to be around me as much as you do.”

“I like you too.” She dug her fingers into his light auburn hair, “for so long I thought I was broken. EX/N convinced me that I was broken. That I was unlovable, that I was alone in the darkness and I expected to spend the rest of my life in the darkness as more darkness, but then I met you and you shine brighter than the sun in summer.”

“You’re not broken.” He said and he kissed her passionately.

As Y/N finished packing up, Campbell hugged her from behind with his face snuggled into the crock of her neck with the occasional kiss to it. She chuckled and turned in his embrace, he immediately started to kiss her slowly.

“Campbell… I’ll be back in… like an hour.” She said in between his kisses.

“Mmm. Too long.” He shook his head.

“I think we’re moving from affectionate young love to clingy.”

“Mmm. I don’t care.”

“Y/N…” Came her cousin’s voice, knocking on the frame of the open door. “Uh, car’s ready.”

“Thanks, C/N. Campbell, I have to go. I’ll be back in an hour.” She said and kissed him before leaving the Saint Jude’s Hospital.

Three days later...

Y/N sat next to Campbell as he spoke into the microphone, “The time is two forty-five on day three, hour number twenty-nine of the Saint Jude's Hospital radiothon. In fifteen minutes, we're going to have another two hours of patients' party pieces, including Hector, who'll be doing a selection of his best juggling tricks.” A beat before he added with dry sarcasm, “Well, that should certainly be worth listening to. I'll be back again at five, so keep sending me your requests and dedications, but most of all, send us your dosh, and rescue our radio!”

He played Rescue Me (I don’t know who sings this. I can’t get a Shazam result off of it.) as Rosalie entered, wearing a bandage wrapped around her head, holding a piece of gauze to her face, over her eye.

“Sorry I'm late.” She told them, Y/n had turned around and her jaw was dropped in shock.

“So you should be! I've had…” Campbell started out angry but he cut himself off when saw the bandage and gauze and his eyes widened, “What happened to yeh?

“Ach, Jim came round and we had a... disagreement, but it's all sorted out now.”

“What!?” Y/N asked, outraged.

“Jim hit yeh?” Campbell asked in concern and some outrage.

“No!” Rosalie said quickly and explained, “Some wee boys came over the fence and one of them started making faces at me through the window, so I went out, and we disagreed about whether he was on my property, and then about whether I was a loony who should be locked up, and then he threw the stone, and we disagreed about whether I was gonna let Jim throttle him or not.”

“The kid threw a stone at yeh?” Campbell asked in disbelief.

“Aye, but I'm from Donegal—when a stone hits your head, it's the stone that's in trouble.” Rosalie said.

“Alright, who’s this kid? I’m going to find his parents and beat some sense into them with a bat until they learn to raise their kids right.” Y/N said with complete seriousness.

Then Billy knocked on the open door’s frame

“Hello, Billy.” Y/N said, brightly.

“Hello? I wanted to volunteer to do a party piece?” Billy said.

“Aye! What do you want to do?” Campbell said, positively, picking up the clipboard with all the times on it.

Billy held up a fiddle and proudly said, “I want to play my ukulele.”

“That's a fiddle.” Y/n said.

“...It is?”

Y/N nudged Campbell, ”But you're welcome to play it tomorrow at...” Campbell said, he paused to check for an unscheduled time slot for Billy, “quarter past six. Is that okay?”

“Aye, quarter past six!” Billy agreed.

“Don't forget your fiddle.” Y/N said.

“My what?” Billy asked.

Y/N sighed, giving up and said, “...Your ukulele.”

Billy, grinning, then exited.

“How's it been going, anyway?” Rosalie asked once Billy was gone.

“Desperate.” Campbell sighed, placing the clipboard down, “It's been like that,” He jabbed his thumb after Billy, “all day.” He ran his fingers over his face in exasperation, “Loads of volunteers to sing the Postman Pat theme in eleven different languages. But where's our celebrity DJs? Where's our star interviews? Where's the bloody press?”

“It’s kind of last minute, babe.” Y/N said, running her hand through his hair in the way she knew comforted him and he rested his head on her shoulder.

“But the contributions have been pouring in. They've been slipping them under the door. And a whole load have just arrived in with the post.” Rosalie said, holding up a stack of letters.

“How much have we got so far?” Campbell asked, lifting his head up with Y/N’s hand still in his hair.

“Ninety-seven pounds and twenty-seven pence.”

Campbell rolled his eyes and sighed before plopping his head back on Y/N’s shoulder, “We may have to do something drastic soon.”

Y/N drove Campbell to Eddie’s the next day and knocked on his apartment door.

Eddie, looking like he had woken up in a ditch that morning, opened the door.

“Eddie...?” Campbell asked. Eddie blinked from the light and nodded into his apartment, silently inviting them inside and opened the door. “You look terrible.”

“Aye... I had a few bevvies last night.”

“Uh… you mind if I make some coffee?” Y/N asked, figuring this is what Eddie needed at the moment.

“Aye, 's through there. 's nae milk, though.” He said.

Campbell rolled from the heels to the balls of his feet as Y/N filled a kettle with tap water. “The radiothon's dying on its feet.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Eddie said, dryly.

“The builders are supposed to be coming in at two o'clock tomorrow. And if we're not out of there by then, they're going to throwus out. So we've decided to occupy the station.” Campbell told Eddie.

“Campbell... have you finally really lost your mind?” Eddie asked, “Who's gonna occupy it?”

“Me, Y/N,” Campbell said, glancing behind him and jabbing his thumb at his girlfriend who had placed the kettle down and appeared in the doorframe, “and Rosalie. And you, I hope.”

“Nae chance.” Eddie scoffed as Campbell sat on the radiator.

“Eddie, I've thought it all out! It's the only way to save the station. I've told all the newspapers! They're all going to be there! We are going to turn this into a front page incident.”

“Campbell, I told you, I don't wantae make the front page. What I wantae dae is keep my job.” Eddie said, loudly.

“Eddie, you built that station from nothing! How can you let that slip away without a fight?” Campbell argued.

“Because I've got bills tae pay!” He got up and went through his mail stack of bills, “Electricity bill, gas bill, phone bill—which my dear grandmother managed to run into three figures before going off to Lithuania with every spare penny I had to give. And because, although I have lost more jobs in my life than you have had manic episodes, Campbell, I could make a lot of money now! I could get respect for the first time in my life!” He was now yelling, “You think I'm gonna give that all up for the dubious honor of going down with my ship?!” He walked over to the small balcony.

“Eddie, d'you no see that job's killing you?” Campbell asked.

“No, Campbell, my dreams!” Eddie argued before repeating softly, “My dreams are killing me.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him but bit back her comeback as Campbell walked to Eddie, leaned against the banister and asked, “So... what did Paula say, then?”

“She said there's a slot coming up and they want you to take it.”

Campbell’s eyes widened briefly, “You mean they want us to take it.”

“No, they see it as a solo slot.” Eddie clarified.

“And-and they want Campbell to take it? Only Campbell?” Y/N asked.

“I'm no gonna take it!” Campbell said at once.

“Campbell, take it.”

“We'll keep at it, Eddie, contact some other stations, do another demo—”

“Campbell, do you wantae end up like me?” Eddie asked, looking Campbell in the eyes, and then said, empathetically. “Take. The. Job. For yourself. For Fergus, eh?” He paused, “I promised Paula, I'd make you take it; I don't wantae break my word. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got tae go tae work.”

Campbell hesitated but left while Y/N stayed, waiting until he was out of earshot.

“By the way, it’s bullshit, Eddie. Your dreams aren’t killing you. Your boss’ expectations are killing you. Your grandmother’s expectations are killing you. Evelyn MacDonald’s killing you. That asshole from your work is killing you. Everyone who’s ever put you down is killing you because you’re letting them. Like how I let EX/N kill me every day. If you let your dreams go, you’re letting them kill you. You’ll end up like Fergus. Cold and alone in the ground with a rock with a birthday carved into it that I’m pretty sure is wrong and a funeral mostly full of people who before couldn’t even be bothered to remember your name before but come to convince themselves that they weren’t totally absorbed in their own lives to care about someone who’s now gone.”

For What It's Worth by Buffalo Springfield played as Campbell spoke into the microphone back at the studio. “This is Campbell Bain, and it's D-Day for Saint Jude's Hospital Radiothon. That's 'D' for Desperation Day, because we are still two thousand, eight hundred and fifty-six pounds and fifty-three pence short of our target. So this is it, loonies. If you've got a rich uncle, then today's the day to remind him of that filing clerk he once took to Blackpool, the name of the cheap hotel where they stayed, and the type of barnyard animal that was involved.” Y/N giggled into her sleeved hand as behind them, Rosalie stopped counting the meager donations and gave him a look like, what the hell? “We are here for you, loonies, and we're not going anywhere.”

Some time later, Campbell’s attention was brought through the window by the flashing of cameras and he spotted some men wearing hard hats.

“Y/N! Rosalie!” He shouted, bringing the girls’ attention to them.

Rosalie slammed the door shut and Y/N bolted the door shut.

“Ha! Now, not even the sonic screwdriver will get through that.” Y/N laughed with a triumph flourish and she gave the man a rude gesture through the window.

Rosalie and Y/N started to stack boxes and anything else they could find and move against the door as Campbell spoke on the radio.

“The loonies may not have taken over the asylum, but they've seized control of the radio station. “This is Campbell Bain reporting live from the hospital radio occupation, where we have locked ourselves into the station and have refused to stop broadcasting until our future is assured.”

Y/N spotted Stuart, Isabel, and another assistant enter the hallway from through the window.

“So talk to your friends, your relatives, your voices! Hospital radio must survive!”

Outside the station, the patients cheered.

Revolution played on the speakers as the patients danced. Y/N spotted Evelyn MacDonald pushed through the crowd towards Stuart, “Stuart! What are all these patients doing in the corridor? Get them out of here!”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Evelyn looked to see Y/N looking out through the window, knocking and then she waved with a fake smile before giving her an extremely rude gesture.

“Why are they still broadcasting? Can you not you cut their electricity?” She shouted at a workman and then she went to a reporter, “look, this is NHS property, and I’m going to have to ask you and your friends to leave immediately.”

A few minutes later Campbell announced, “That's exactly what this is, a revolution! Because even now the forces of sanity are massing outside the window, armed with the full weight of the Scottish Mental Health and the Criminal Trespass Act. But we can beat them, loonies! Because you know what we've got? Pride! We are loonies, and we are proud!”

Reach Out I'll Be There played as the police arrived and a policewoman announced through a megaphone to the reporters, “You are trespassing on NHS property. I must ask you to leave immediately.” Campbell looked absolutely delighted. “You are trespassing on National Health property. I must ask you to leave immediately.”

Campbell kissed Y/N on the cheek in triumph and defiantly slammed the fader on the mixer up as loud as it could go.

Then the station window started to open, making them turn to see Eddie opening the window from the outside and he climbed inside.

Grins appeared on the faces of Campbell, Rosalie, and Y/N’s faces.

“You are trespassing on National Health property. I must ask you to leave immediately. If you do not leave immediately, you will be arrested and charged.”

“We're gonna be arrested.” Campbell exclaimed, excitedly and he hugged ecstatically, “We're gonna be charged! This is the most glorious day of my life!!”

He turned to Y/N and placed his hands on her hips loosely, he opened his mouth but nothing came out other than, “I… I…” He didn’t want to scare her off and after her last “relationship”.

“I love you.” She said, putting her arms around his neck.

He blinked and then he grinned and said, “I love you too.” He kissed her when the police broke the station window with a fire extinguisher and opened the door, pushing the obstacles away.

They hauled, Campbell, Y/N, Eddie, and Rosalie out as the reporters took pictures as the patients booed them. Campbell beamed at the cameras before they passed a now awake from her psychological coma Francine.

A week later

Y/N beamed from the other side of the radio station glass of Radio Scotland as Campbell laughed at some hate mail as music played softly, “That was Hit the Road, Jack, a special dedication to me, wouldja believe, from an anonymous listener in Bishopbriggs, who writes: ‘I know what you are, and you should be locked up and have your balls cut off.’ So, Gold Boppers, write in to next week's mailbag and let me know what you think. Do you want me to be locked up, or just have my balls cut off, or do you want me to be locked up and have my balls cut off? This is Campbell Bain's Gold Show, so don't touch that dial, just let it be.”

He looked at Y/N through the glass and returned her smile, for the first time in a long time, both of them felt full and truly happy.

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